“The answer is simple. I didn’t leave. I dated a woman for a long time, and then I started dating a man. That’s all.

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Sofa connoisseurs, whom for some reason at that time I considered friends, immediately began to speak out that I had finally become normal, my parents could not hold back tears of happiness, some of my homosexual friends considered me a traitor, and I was just trying to understand that how it has changed and why the world around suddenly went crazy.


They told me that I was a “broken dyke”, they asked how it happened that I changed my orientation.

I didn’t change my orientation. On the Kinsey scale, I have always had a B: “predominant homosexuality, non-random manifestations of heterosexuality.” My current relationship with a man is that very non-random manifestation of heterosexuality.

At the age of thirteen, I began to be interested in sex, but in a very abstract way. At fourteen I had my first kiss. With a girl. By the way, we are still best friends. A couple of months later, other kisses began: with both girls and boys. At the age of fifteen I fell in love with a boy, and at sixteen I fell in love with a girl, and it is the relationship with the girl that I consider the very first love. We still have a very warm relationship with her.


I have always liked both boys and girls. The girls are just a little bigger. But I think it has to do with the culture I grew up in. Chauvinistic jokes did not add points to the opposite sex.


I also always wanted to learn more about gender and sexual identity. That’s why I read a lot. And the more I read, the more I understood that the mechanism of orientation formation is very little studied. And all the more strange to me seemed the conviction of some people that they understand exactly how human sexuality works. They ignore references to scientific articles and condescendingly declare that they live in society and understand everything themselves, why bother to research anything at all?

For some reason, they do not argue about the reliability of the Copenhagen interpretation or gravitational waves. Too difficult. And when it comes to a person and society, everyone knows everything.


And everyone knows that the relationship of a woman with a woman is not serious, because none of them have a penis. It would seem that we live in the twenty-first century, and phallocentrism is at the level of an agricultural civilization.

I grew up in a cozy (this is not sarcasm) company of anime and role players. This small community supported any relationship, any identity, any sexuality. We had a safe environment where people accepted each other for who they are.

But at some point something went wrong. The girls suddenly began to leave one by one for the guys, in which there was nothing wrong. The bad thing was that they began to haughtily declare that now they understood everything about life, and the rest simply hadn’t played enough yet.


They got married, arranged absolutely gender stereotypical weddings with vulgar contests, bad hosts, homophobic jokes, which made me horrified in half with disgust.

Where did the people I knew before go?

Apparently they played.

After all, now they had real men with real members.

When I also began dating a man, I was afraid that they would perceive me the same way. Perhaps that is why I began to defend the rights of LGBT people more actively than before. Before, I was afraid to speak out in defense of homosexuals: what if they understand everything about me? Now I’m not afraid.

By the way, about the members. Some of my girls, who position themselves as bisexual, smiled conspiratorially and half-asked, half-asserted:



– Well, you must admit that it is better with a penis.

What exactly is better? I do not live with a member, but with a person. I prefer oral sex, and who makes me cunnilingus – there is no difference. And I don’t care if I do blowjob or cunnilingus, because I want to please my partner, and this is the most important thing.

Yes, I started dating a man after dating a woman for a long time. It came as a surprise not only to others, but also to me. After breaking up with my girlfriend, I was not going to start a relationship – I just wanted non-committal sex. It didn’t work out.

But long before sex, friendship began. This is the hardest thing to write about, because this friendship began before my previous relationship ended. My ex-lover thought that I traded her for a better option. We talked a lot, I tried to explain that I didn’t change anyone for anyone. I hope it worked out.


It’s not that he’s a “better option”, but that we’re more suited to each other. With my former love, we could talk for hours about books, people and characters, which was great, but it was difficult for us to agree on something less abstract. We were completely different. Many people think it’s good that different people complement each other, but we had too many differences.

With my new partner, we are very similar and therefore it is easier for us to understand each other. We are both graduate students, we love the natural sciences and we don’t like xenophobia. On the first evening we met, we discussed the Laplace demon, sustainable development, the evolution of insects, watched Kung Fury and listened to Horrible Histories songs.

He likes, probably, all my friends. Several times I was told that I met the most ordinary girl, but I found a guy. Two-meter blond with good biceps and just cute. But no matter how handsome a person is, it would not work for me if he turned out to be, for example, a homophobe or a chauvinist. I think that the fact that he is European and grew up in the very decaying environment that teaches liberality and freedom of choice played a big role.



In fact, his origins offended some of the men I knew. A former colleague said that I need a normal man who, on occasion, will bang his fist on the table, and knock unnecessary feminism out of me. Another asked why I need a tolerant.

So it’s not enough just to be a man. You have to be a Russian man, not a gay man. Although as recently as yesterday, my gay tolerant brought out of the Moscow metro car a giant drunken subject molesting girls. Real Russian men just sat and averted their eyes.

After I entered into a relationship with a man, it became much more difficult for me to react to the homophobia of others. Some of them I just cut off contact with. With others there were long discussions and even disputes.


These same people who immediately think of men having anal sex when they hear the word “gay” say that there is no such thing as friendship between a man and a woman. And gays, apparently, do not have friendship with other men. And bisexuals don’t have friends at all.

My father did the best.

I asked him not to bring up this topic, I tried to explain this terrible word “bisexuality”, but he continued and continued to press. For example, he demanded to admit that the nonsense has finally disappeared from my head and now I am ready for a Real Serious Relationship. It turns out that for nine years I toiled with foolishness. Joint life, a ton of moves, buying a dog is just nonsense.

He also advised me not to tell my current partner that I was dating a woman. And then suddenly a man from this will be uncomfortable. It turns out that I have to cross out a quarter of my life for someone to be comfortable.


My partner, of course, does not share such positions. However, I wouldn’t date anyone else.

The funniest (sadest) thing is that many have changed their attitude towards me, while everything has remained the same for me. Yes, now I love a person with a Y chromosome, but that does not make me someone else. I remained myself.

This summer I was told that I shouldn’t be the leader in relationships. That I should let my man lead and be wise—sometimes appear weaker and dumber. And then I realized that the right person was next to me.

I don’t need to appear dumber or weaker, because to my partner I am more than just my genitals. As is he for me.

I don’t care if the person has a vagina or a dick. What matters is what’s in his head. I know that my partner does not perceive me as an incomprehensible, but nice little creature from another planet, does not think that a woman should be a mystery, but simply asks and listens. As do I. I know that he will hold the door for me, as I do for him. I know he won’t joke about blondes, women driving or women in science. I know that we have common goals and visions for the future. I also know that he accepts me for who I am.

It just so happened that my non-random manifestation of heterosexuality turned into love.