Of all the birthdays I have experienced so far, I’d have to say 30 came with the most revelations — some expected, others entirely unforeseen. Regardless of whether you are LGBT or straight, 30 is considered a milestone in which new and often exciting developments begin to unfold. As a bi man, I’m regularly exposed to the social expectations of what a successful 30-year-old looks like, and while this noise was initially overwhelming, it ultimately highlighted an inspiring lesson to take into this new decade of life. All of the rules and expectations determined by society of what “success” looks like are arbitrary, subjective, and rarely advanced by people who have your best interests at heart. I’m 30 for god’s sake; I’m old enough to embrace what brings happiness and fulfillment to my life without being relentlessly shamed by society’s self-declared arbiters of success.
However, when I first hit double digits with the big 1-0, I had my entire life mapped out before me with nary a deviation from what those in the wider community had done for generations. I would find a woman to marry, secure a stable job with good benefits, buy a house with strong return on investment potential, start a family, and then slowly fade into my golden years with a languid smile of contentment on my face. Of course, there is nothing wrong with this path: finding love and building a life with someone in a community that brings you satisfaction is incredible, and I respect those who can find happiness in this approach. However, once I realized I was bi, a thought I had never dared to consider popped to the forefront of my mind: perhaps I could blaze a new path for myself, one with more room for deviation and exploration of the unknown. One in which the rules were not yet written.
When 20 finally rolled around, I knew the life 10-year-old me had so meticulously planned out was likely never going to materialize. Though I wasn’t out at the time, I had long questioned the basic tenants of the overwhelmingly heterosexual and traditional lifestyles I grew up surrounded by and knew deep down they weren’t right for me. Though I’m sure I could have faked my way through this type of life, I know I would have ultimately looked back on it with regret. Up to that point, I had spent my entire existence constrained by the tethers of society’s expectations; it wasn’t until I made the choice to cut them loose that I truly began to see how full life could be.
To me, the day I came out as bi was the day I severed those ties. It was my point of no return; once shared, those words could not be taken back. Even now, after almost seven years, it feels as if an electric current is thrumming throughout my body as I remember the thrill and terror of hitting the publish button on my coming out article. Often, when I am feeling sad or disappointed, I remember that moment. It remains one of the few instances in life where I felt truly free and alive, and it reminds me of what is possible if I embrace the power to dictate my own path instead of following the pre-fabricated one initially laid out for me.
Spending a large chunk of my 20s as an out and proud bi man opened up life in both exciting and challenging ways. I was no longer restricting myself to what I perceived as suffocating societal standards, but I was constantly defending my choices from individuals inside both the queer and heterosexual communities. To this day, there are still those who do not consider me worthy enough for either, simply because I believe I know myself better than they do. Why my refusal to fall in line with their ideals of how a person “should be” causes so much animosity is baffling to me — especially considering my support for the gay and straight communities — but their discontentment pales in comparison to the positives of living authentically as a bi man. I will never shrink away from their attacks, but I will also not play into their games. I am who I am, and no one will ever know me better than I know myself. It’s disappointing when my word as a bi man isn’t good enough for them — especially when it comes from friends or family — but I refuse to surround myself with those who cannot accept me and what makes me unique. I have come too far and worked too hard to ever let those tethers constrain me again.
Of course, even now at 30 there are still days where I find myself overwhelmed, upset, and disappointed that after all these years of work there are still people in my life who doubt that bisexuality is real; it often feels as if they’re discrediting me not just as a bi man, but as a person overall. It transports me back to the many nights of my teens and 20s spent staring up at my bedroom ceiling, wishing for time to speed me forward to a future where I didn’t feel so alone, confused, and depressed. While I don’t languish in these moments, I do not block them out either; they help give me perspective on how far I have come, and show me how much power I hold when it comes to developing a life that brings me true joy and adventure.
As I look forward from 30, I am filled with the same excitement I had when I came out all those years ago. I am no longer wishing my life away, but instead trying my best to relish every second. I am healthy, happy, surrounded by loving, supportive friends and family, and a bi community that makes me feel anything but alone. I know I still have much to learn about the world and myself, but one thing is for sure; that scared, closeted kid who felt so frightened to be himself could have never imagined the reality I am living in now. That alone gives me an incredible amount of hope for what the future has in store for me.
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