On labelling sexuality...

First off, apologies for being a bit MIA blog-wise lately, but life gets in the way sometimes and I've not been having the best week but I'm back with what is likely to be a weird ramble that probably makes very little sense to anyone other than myself.

I've never been a fan of 'labels' that are handed out to people; when I was in secondary school, I wore Paramore t-shirts and straightened my fringe so that it sat just so over my left eye, and sometimes I attached chains to my jeans. I hung around with boys who didn't wash their long hair and I went to rock concerts, often coming back with some sort of injury but that's not totally relevant. If I had a pound for every "mish mosh get a wash!" that was thrown in my direction, I could probably retire before I leave uni. Seriously though, I was branded a 'mosher' for most of my high-school days, which was irritating although not particularly offensive. Labelling sexuality, and especially other peoples' sexuality, is a different thing.

When I had my first relationship with a girl, I didn't tell the majority of my friends because I didn't know how they would react, and when I told my parents (albeit drunkenly) I didn't label myself; I simply told them that I was in a relationship with another girl and that was that. My dad said I could do whatever made me happy, except cocaine, and we didn't really talk much about it again. Until that relationship fizzled out, and a few months later I got a boyfriend. Nothing serious, but suddenly I was STRAIGHT AGAIN OMG. No, I wasn't, because shortly after I decided we were completely wrong for each other, and I got into a relationship with another girl.

I told my best friends at this point, mainly because they saw me kiss her at a party and demanded to know what was going on. "So you're bi?" they asked, and at the time I told them yes because I assumed that must be the case, given that I like girls and boys. Time went by, and I moved to uni while still in a same-sex relationship. All my new house mates were thrilled to have a token "lesbian mate", and asked all those ridiculous questions that people think they're entitled to ask despite the fact that Google is most definitely a thing.

I was treated like rubbish in that relationship, and broke it off a couple of weeks into my degree. A few weeks later I kissed a boy in a club and somehow a photo of that ended up on Facebook. One of my house mates said (jokingly I imagine, but really who knows) "When your mum sees it she'll be thrilled that you're not gay any more!" I laughed it off because I was hungover, embarrassed, and probably stuffing my face with spaghetti hoops but I still think about how it was an odd thing to say. Similar comments emerged when I got with my next boyfriend, and everyone demanded to know whether I was going to disclose my sexuality to him.

This is a weird one for me; I don't feel like I had to do so, although I do wish I had done. I spent a whole 10 months worrying that he would find out from somebody else and break up with me because of it, but although he knew I'd slept with girls before, I never felt comfortable enough to tell him about my "sexuality" - which I guess says a lot about our relationship, huh. Sexuality is a weird one; nobody is expected to announce to each other that they're straight, but if you're anything other than heterosexual it's automatically a big deal.

I don't know what to label myself as; I am attracted to both girls and boys, girls more so, but I wholeheartedly believe that sexuality is a fluid spectrum. Things change as time goes on. I've had nasty comments made towards me, people telling me that I'm greedy and an attention seeker, but in my opinion, you can't help who you fall for. You don't love a whole gender, you love one person at one time (if you're monogamous) and they just happen to be of whatever gender they happen to be.

Literally, gold star if you made it to the end of the post - sorry it's so long! Happy Easter one and all.