I Couldn’t Let Myself Love a Girl

I’ll never know what could have been

I was young when I met Hailey.

Every summer, my parents would camp down by the beach. She lived nearby.

While my parents sat by the water, working their way through cases of beer, I would spend a lot of time with her.

We played basketball, hung out, listened to music — whatever helped us get through the long summers.

Being with Hailey saved me from wasting my entire summer with grownups. But I genuinely liked her company and I loved having her as a friend.

I didn’t think I could like her any more than that. But then we got older and everything changed.

I Loved Her Touch

Hailey was very affectionate with me — way more than any other friend I had.

We would cuddle. We would hug. We’d have tickle fights.

As I got older, I realized that I liked being touched by her — a lot. I liked touching her, too. It wasn’t just playful and sweet. It made us feel close in a way that I found really appealing.

The summer after grade 9 is when everything changed.

I always liked Hailey. But now I realized that I liked liked her.

That should have been exciting, but it made me very uncomfortable.

Hailey liked me, too, and she showed it.

She always sat really close to me. Even when we had a wide open field all to ourselves, she made sure our thighs were touching.

She held my hand a few times, and I knew that she would have held on as long as she could have if my anxiety-riddled self didn’t shyly pull my hand away.

She complimented my appearance. She told me she loved me. She said it more often than my other friends did and she sounded a lot less casual about it, too.

I tried to rationalize away all her behavior. I told myself she was just being friendly.

Looking back now, I know I wasn’t the only with a crush.

The things she did set my heart fluttering. But those flutters threw me into a panic. I was feeling some really big feelings and I didn’t know how to handle them.

Talking Myself Out of Loving Her

I should have followed my desires.

I should have returned her affection.

I should have said “I love you too” and touched her the way she touched me.

Instead, I tried to talk myself out of my feelings.

I couldn’t deny having a crush on her. But I thought I could convince myself I was just confused.

I spent hours having conversations with myself, trying to sort through everything.

“I can’t be a lesbian. I like boys. Lesbians don’t like boys. That settles it — I’m just confused.”

Everyone talked about sexual orientation like it was binary. You’re either straight or you’re gay. Clear cut. No shades in between.

I had some straight-like behavior and feelings. Ergo, there was no way I could actually like a girl. Not like that.

Bisexuality didn’t even occur to me — and I was years away from learning about pansexuality.

“Besides, you don’t need the trouble. High school is hard enough without this!”

I tried to imagine coming out to my parents and it freaked me out. I wasn’t exactly sure how they would react, but probably not in a loving, understanding, and supportive way.

All I could picture were anger, disappointment, and maybe some bawling.

I worried about my friends even more. They meant more to me than my parents, and I had never heard a kind word for anyone or anything queer come from their lips.

If I moved things forward with Hailey, see how far it went, find out if it was a summer crush or the start of a fairy tale romance, it would be at the expense of every other relationship I already had.

“Why go through all that? If I just pursue boys, I’ll save myself a lot of trouble.”

I pushed it out of my mind. I was straight. This was a stupid crush. That was it.

Then I started 10th grade.

Making a Mess of Everything

Hailey lived in a different part of the city. But she was done middle school now and we’d bus in to the same high school.

On the first day, I was talking with some friends in the hall and I heard her shout my name. She ran toward me with open arms.

I wanted to run to her, too. I missed her hugs. I missed her.

I took a few steps in her direction but stopped myself as soon as I noticed. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me.

I was sure everyone would think I was gay if I ran to embrace her. (And I had already convinced myself I was super straight.)

I stiffened up. Hailey’s face fell. Her smile stopped straining her cheeks and I could see that she felt confused and embarrassed by the cool reception I gave her.

She hugged me, but not as tightly as she usually did. I introduced her to my friends as quickly as I could and then made up and excuse so I could leave.

I didn’t want to stay near her for too long. If I did, I worried my friends could tell how I really felt about her. It wouldn’t be long before they’d start calling me a dyke and stop inviting me to hang out on weekends.

That moment changed everything between us. She stopped trying to get close to me. I kept distancing myself from her.

I convinced myself and my friends that I was straight, but only at the expense of my friendship with someone I liked and who really cared about me.

Coming to My Senses Too Late

A year after I ruined things with Hailey, she came out and started dating her best friend.

It bothered a lot of my peers. There was a grand total of three openly gay students at our school, and they took a lot of shit for it.

Seeing her public displays of affection bothered me, too, but for a different reason.

It bothered me because it made me jealous.

When I saw her kissing her girlfriend, I wished it was my lips pressing against hers.

I couldn’t deny those feelings anymore, but I still couldn’t confess them to anyone. I heard all the judgement, gossip, and outright hateful comments directed at Hailey. There was no sense in making myself a target, too.

I kept dating and hooking up with guys. As it turns out, a lot of that was probably worse than whatever shit I would’ve gotten for dating Hailey. But I eventually found a good one and settled down with him.

I learned a lot about myself once I moved in with him. I finally admitted that, yes, I like girls. Yes, I’m bisexual.

And yes, I royally fucked up with Hailey.

Embracing my sexuality felt liberating. I could express all of my feelings without being riddled with confusion or anxiety. I had a safe space to be myself.

But it was also kind of sad. It took me so long come to terms with who I am and I grieved the fact that I only realized it when I was in a committed relationship.

I felt the urge to explore that aspect of myself before I settled down for good. I wanted to know what it was like to date women. I wanted to form a connection with someone who wasn’t a man. I wanted to see where all of it would take me.

But it never happened. I wasn’t willing to risk everything I had to do that.

I even had the perfect opportunity. My boyfriend was polyamorous, though he agreed to stay monogamous to be with me.

If I could’ve just talked to him about it. If I could have gotten over my insecurities and stopped worrying about his, we could have opened up our relationship a lot sooner than we have.

I was tempted. Seriously tempted. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It didn’t feel fair, not if I insisted that he remains faithfully monogamous.

I got drunk and made out with straight girls at parties.

We had a threesome with a friend of mine on my birthday. I got to find out what it’s like to fondle breasts, to eat pussy, and to have a woman’s fingers and tongue all over mine.

And that was it. Now I’m settled, still painfully shy, and I sometimes struggle to have conversations with people I see in public.

I love flirting with women, but I have a hard time initiating. I’m open to exploring something more, but I only ever end up crushing at a distance.

I’ve come to terms with my romantic and sexual attraction to women. But now I just have a lot of “what ifs” that I’m not sure I’ll ever get to answer.

Silence Speaks Volumes

My mother wasn’t explicitly homophobic, but she was silent on the subject. That silence spoke volumes.

Instead of being told about homosexuality, bisexuality, and everything else on that big spectrum, I was left to figure it out on my own.

On my own meant through TV and my friends at school. Arguably, that was far worse than being left entirely to my own devices.

We had a family friend who was a lesbian, but it was never discussed. My parents referred to her girlfriend as “her roommate.” I guess my mom just hoped I would never ask why they only had one bedroom.

All that silence taught me that being a lesbian was one of two things. It was either horrible and worthy of hate and ridicule, or it was taboo and shameful, something to be shunned, not celebrated.

So, when I felt attracted to a girl, I ran from those feelings.

I chose fear over love, and I still regret it to this day.

Hailey was a great, caring, sweet girl. Being in a relationship with her might have taught me that I was worthy of love and respect.

Instead, I pushed her away and dated a guy who constantly pressured me to have sex and made fun of me when I stood my ground.

After that, it was a string of jerks who somehow had me believing that I deserved the shit they put me through.

I have no idea what else I missed out on. If not Hailey, then who else could I have met? Who could I have been with, grown with, and learned from? I have no idea how many potential girlfriends I missed out on.

I met and married a wonderful man. We have a happy life together. It worked out great for me in the end. But I can’t help but wonder how different things could have been if I had just been honest with myself instead of spending years kissing frogs (asshole frogs at that) looking for my prince.

I fucked up. I hurt someone I really liked because I didn’t have the concepts to understand how I felt and the love to reassure me that I would be okay.

I don’t think my mother meant to hurt me with her silence. She probably didn’t know how to broach the subject.

I can sympathize with that. But I can also do better.

Even when it’s awkward, I never pass up an opportunity to challenge heteronormativity. I want my kids to know that no matter what, they can and should choose love over fear. And when they do, I won’t just tolerate or accept it — I’ll celebrate it and embrace who they are.

I didn’t follow my heart. I never want them to make that same mistake.

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