coming out to your first crush

day 6. the midnight confession

As an extroverted people-pleaser, the concept of striking up a conversation is what I thrive on.

And with a handful of days to decompress and regain human function since that goodbye touch, I was OK…until I saw her again.

My fucking brain broke. I idly stood there, trying to remember any damn basic question I could ask her to keep the conversation going. All my words stumbled out, so I awkwardly ended it with a nervous laugh and peace sign. I walked away sweaty and nauseous. Fuck, this crush is real.

I got stuck in a time warp, like I was 31 going on 13. I thought I outgrew puberty.

But let me tell you baby bi, THIS IS A SECOND PUBERTY AND EVERYTHING YOU THINK YOU KNOW WILL NOT HELP YOU. ARE YOU SURE YOU LIKE WOMEN TOO?!

All I wanted to do was scream and talk about my new realization. I laid upside down on my couch, waiting for gravity to pull my thoughts and emotions out of my head.

By 8 PM, I had lost control of every sense, mostly my common sense.

By 12 AM, I was consumed by this “AHA” meta intense urgency. Literally no one could have changed my mind. So, I did it.

I confessed my crush to her.

In a 5-part Instagram DM. At. 1. AM.

—

Hey *****

This is going to be a weird DM haha, so if you make it to the end of this message, I applaud you.

I know we don’t know each other well. But, I am going to share something super vulnerable and raw with you. It scares me, honestly. And from the collective 20 mins we probably have had together, I feel like I can trust you. I’m literally shooting in the dark, so here it goes.

Phew, so I don’t even know how to start this. It’s simple, in theory. Yet complex, because of, well my history with men…

Anyway, here is my unedited, well edited version of these new feelings and thoughts that I’ve been having.

After we met, I felt like this overwhelming, kinda soul-crushing ache in my chest, kinda like a magnet meets butterflies? I’m an Empath (not sure if you believe in that), but my emotional gut was ringing every damn alarm that it was kind of hard to ignore — I left that night thinking I had to get to know you more. You seem like a cool person, and that we met for some certain reason. I don’t know what that reason is yet. But, it scares me. It makes me fucking anxious. Because it wasn’t like a girl crush where I wanted to just be friends with you or even be like you, it was a new kind of physical attraction that I haven’t felt for another woman before. My heart is racing just typing this. But my heart is also sinking bc I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to actually send this. I can’t describe it, but maybe you know this feeling more than I do.

You are a beautiful woman. I don’t know if I am telling you all this because I feel like you can help me sort these feelings out. I don’t know if I am ready to act on any of this. I don’t know what your relationship situation is. Maybe it’s all of it. I do know that I have this crush on you, and I don’t know how to move forward with it. And it’s kind of overwhelming. I’m 31 and have only been in relationships with men. But, I can’t ignore it. Whatever the outcome of this is (beyond excruciating embarrassment on my part for pouring all my feels into this super long INSTAGRAM message and probs hiding), I feel like before we could be better friends, I had to let you know before it eats me up alive.

So, in short, can we have drinks soon? I promise to be slightly chiller than what I am conveying in this fucking long text.

I know that I already feel 100% better that I wrote this out. Anyway, here it fucking goes. Lol. I will probs shrivel up after I send this.

Goodnight goodnight,

Jaimee

—

After I pressed send, I may have very well shriveled up and died. In fact, I’m just a gay ghost now writing from lesbo limbo.

I did not sleep one minute.

day 7. the embarrassing unchill me

If you ever wanted to meet the uncool, not calm, and severely uncollected version of me, I showed up in fucking strides the next day.

Sweaty. Nauseous. Nervous. Physical chest pain. Wild, fast-paced thoughts. Tears held in. Wanting to scream. Fists clenched. Eyes darting to check my phone. I was not myself. My mind and my heart felt like exploding. All because I was waiting to see if she GOT THE DAMN MESSAGE.

While running to my next meeting, I quickly glanced and saw the tiniest, most savage notification to have ever been invented in message history: read.

I became unwound. I paced in circles. I couldn’t breathe. I retreated to the wellness room.

I asked myself what’s the worst that could happen?

• She could ignore me and not respond. And it would be a high school nightmare where I just handed my most vulnerable secret to a complete stranger.

The rest I was OK with.

• She could respond and not feel the same way and that is that. Civil.
• She could respond and feel the same way. I would be lying if I said that this was even a valid option in my fucking head. I absolutely DID NOT think she would reciprocate. It was not even on my radar. And I say this with absolute love, but I wouldn’t have liked me back. Not that version of me anyway. I was truly putting the BI in bambi, I was not fucking chill at all.

Then my phone buzzed.

I looked down to see a message from an unsaved number.

She responded.

I read it.

And then I read it again.

I teared up.

Her response was warm, understanding, empathetic, and kind.

It was the first time my tiny baby bi heart felt seen and heard.

My queerness felt real?

It felt real.

—

Again, this story isn’t about her, nor us.

Yes, we grabbed drinks. The friendly kind.

We talked about the scary, unfamiliar feelings of realizing one’s queerness, the power in coming out (and the ongoing journey of coming out over and over again with their respective highs and lows), the importance of queer friendships, and…the bravery she recognized in my message.

I was taken aback when she said that THAT was brave.

I was scared shitless, I had and still have no idea what I’m doing.

But, in the paralysis of the crush, I felt alive in stepping through.

In speaking my truth, I shot my shot.

In shooting my shot, I knew that I could.

And in knowing I could, I felt free.

I still cringe at my sloppy, overly-dramatic, Pisces(rising)-ridden message. But, losing my common sense was the only thing that made absolute sense. It finally allowed my soul to shine through, to be validated, and to feel like I wasn’t making any of this shit up.

Was that brave?

I guess so.

I took my first step…out.

—

This is essay 2 in my coming out series.