The New York Times recently published a piece about a recent study about marriage that left many queer people thinking, “Duh!” The study basically found that same-sex couples have happier marriages than straight couples.
The publication provocatively titled the article “How to Make Your Marriage Gayer” and used the findings from the study to offer heterosexual couples insight into how they can improve their own marriages. A key takeaway was that women who are married to men experience the most distress overall.
It was also noted that the deep emotional connections women form with one another can be a double-edged sword in relationships, which may be part of the reason why marriages between two men are statistically stronger than marriages between two women.
As someone in my first queer relationship, I’ve been thinking a lot about the differences between my relationship, and the relationships that I and other women close to me have had with men.
The more I think about it, the more I start to believe that maybe heterosexual love is nothing more than a construct meant to aid in procreation. Maybe this is a pessimistic view and maybe I sound like all of queer female Twitter, but I honestly think the biggest lie Disney ever sold me was that true love can exist between straight people.
Now that I am in love in a queer relationship, it baffles me that there hasn’t been a gay Disney couple because this love is the closest I think anyone can ever get to magical Disney-brand romance.
Maybe I just “haven’t found the right man” as Miley Cyrus would suggest, but I don’t care to. I could spend years searching, but why would I when a love that exceeds expectations of what I ever thought was possible exists for me in this current relationship?
I experience bisexual imposter syndrome a lot, because the truth is, even when I came out, I didn’t think too much about sex with women. It was the last thing on my mind. But the media has often portrayed coming out and “experimenting” with a same-sex relationship or hookup as something motivated by desire. It makes sense. Sex sells. It’s called SEX-uality for a reason.
But sex has been so secondary in my coming out journey. All I knew in the beginning, was that I could fall in love with anyone of any gender and that was mostly the extent of my thinking. I was thinking primarily about love.
If you want to get really technical, you might say I’m more biromantic than bisexual (but still bisexual, nonetheless).
Sexuality is a spectrum, yes, but that often makes me feel invalid and lost. Sometimes I feel as if I am not queer enough because I don’t actually find that many women attractive in a way that makes me want to kiss them.
Sex mattered more in straight relationships. It was of heightened importance. It was good most of the time but often left me feeling like something was missing, and more often than not, I felt unsettled after it happened.
Sex now is an afterthought, but somehow an even more euphoric experience.
I often forget my partner is someone I sleep with because I do not sexualize them in our relationship. PDA is sweet, not possessive or sexual. We have a distinct, full relationship that isn’t intertwined with our sex life.
Now that I have this new perspective as a bisexual woman, I see straight culture as settling. We are told to put up with so many things in men. We are told that sex is privileged over other forms of connection and that we should be lucky if our partner has any emotional intelligence or ability to communicate his feelings at all.
I never felt like a whole person in straight relationships. I felt like a person to come back to and fuck. Even things that were romantic seemed to part of a grand scheme to keep me coming back to bed. Maybe that was the result of emotional immaturity, but it was my reality.
If I hadn’t come out, if I hadn’t met my partner, I don’t know if I would have ever found love in this form. It feels like a movie. I didn’t know I could feel so much. It almost feels fabricated.
My bisexuality isn’t about choosing a side in terms of genders; it’s about choosing between what I value more: sex, or love and romance.
In my experience, straight sex hasn’t been worth it. I would rather be in a queer relationship where I feel seen and known, wholly in love, and sexually satisfied.
In queer relationships, natural procreation is not always an option. It usually can’t be an accidental side effect. There are no biological instincts driving me to fall for my partner and want to make a home with them.
There are no other motives. Just love. Love is first. Sex is second.
Queer people are sexualized at every turn, and my queerness never feels sexual enough. That’s why phrases like “Love is love” will always resonate with me more than queer thirst tweets about Saoirse Ronan ever will.
Yes, queer relationships can be sexual, but I believe we experience love in a way that straight couples cannot. So I would say, if you want to understand the ideal of true love, look to queer couples.