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·260 words·2 mins
Family of Origin

I came out about my sexual orientation to my mother today.

It started when we were talking about one of my friends from college. “You knew she was gay, right?” I said.

Mom said, “I think so. I barely remember her.”

“You know, Mom,” I continued. “I have A LOT of gay friends.”

“Seems it,” she said.

“I’d say more than half actually, especially if you count the bisexuals.”

She didn’t say anything.

“You know, people who can love either men or women?”

“I’ve heard of that,” she said.

“I think a lot of people are in the middle,” I said. “A lot of people are bisexual and just get passed off as straight. Because they’re married, and no one asks.” I paused. “Like me, for example.”


“You okay, Mom?” I asked.

“I’m not really surprised,” she said. “I always kind of knew there was something going on with you and _____.”

“I think it’s more that I care about body parts less than other people,” I continued. “Like, I’m more into the friendships and the personalities and stuff.”

She sighed. “You talk way too much about your friends, religion, and sex. I don’t care about that stuff. Let’s just stick to talking about dieting, food, and your marriage from now on.”

“Fair enough,” I replied.


No drama. No wild emotion. Even though I prefer “pansexual/omnisexual” and it’s a closer label to what I truly am, I figured my mom would have a better chance of understanding “bisexual.”

I am out. It’s a huge weight off my shoulders.


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Family of Origin