A short letter to Mom, (who thankfully doesn’t read my blog in part because she still thinks of the internet as magic.)

You rang yesterday mom. It was so great to hear from you. I miss you when I don’t see you for so long, but I will get down to see you soon I promise. I’m sorry your body is causing you so much grief at the moment, but maybe it’ll improve in time, and if not well you can always make a hobby out of seeing how miserable you can make the doctors who deal with you.

I’m writing because you laughed at me yesterday. I told you I was going on a date with a really special guy on Saturday evening, and you laughed. I told you he was handsome, charming, sweet, sexy, smart and that I’m excited about it, and you laughed.

I do get that almost everyone finds my discovery of my bisexuality amusing. But it’s becoming very old for me when people laugh at my sexuality, and I thought you at least would listen without laughing. I was wrong in that I guess. I know that in the past ten years I’ve gone from hating men, loathing them, to being indifferent, to now being open to the possibility that not all of them deserve to be dropped head first into the event horizon of a singularity. Worse that a few of them might even be worthy of trust, attraction…who knows maybe even love? I get that it’s a big change for you to take on board, but imagine what it’s like from my side? Just for a moment, please?

I’ve gone from decades of being absolutely certain of my sexuality, to not knowing what way is up, or down. I’ve gone from feeling safe in who I’m attracted to, to being attracted to a handful of members of a particular gender. You know the gender that my abusers were, that all of my bullies were…that gender. Yes, I know it’s unfair to tar all males with that brush, but you know that’s why it’s a phobia. It’s not rational, it’s not fair on them true, but it’s also not fair on me either.

But here I am all the same, excited to be going on a date with a handsome, charming, sweet, sexy, smart guy. And it’s so funny right? Amanda, the man-eating lesbian isn’t a dyke after all, get this she’s a bi-girl, and she’s interested in dating a guy, what a laugh. I needed support mom,

I’m excited yes, but I’m nervous. No scratch that, I’m scared.

This isn’t just a first date with a handsome, charming, sweet, sexy, smart guy. It’s my first date EVER with a guy, after 34 years of life on the planet. It’s the first time I’ve ever pursued something with a guy. It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted something to happen. But I’m so aware of how broken I am underneath all the mental armor I present to the world.

I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of him being hurt. Hell I’m scared of getting the bus home afterwards. After all, a gothic futagirl on Saturday night with Dublin Bus, what could go wrong there?

I didn’t need you to laugh at me. I’m fine with amusement. I’d be fine with teasing, I probably deserve a little. But this is my life, my sexuality, my excitement, my nerves, my fear. It’s not funny. It just isn’t.

Your loving and adoring daughter,
Amanda.

P.S. I’m not travelling to Cork to dog-sit for you when you get your new mutt. I don’t want my New Rocks puked into like last time.

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