In the eighth grade, I “came out” as gay when I professed my love for Billy H. in an invitation to be my date to our homecoming dance. My girl friends celebrated their new gay friend, excited by the prospect of adding a fashionista to their clique; despite owning a closet of jeans and ratty t-shirts, being “gay” evidently meant a lot more than kissing boys. In the tenth grade, I discovered (or rather, finally admitted to myself) that I was also into the female form, breasts no longer simply fun pillows at girls’ night sleepovers. I waited until senior year to come out (again), this time as bisexual.

As a wrestler at 6’4’’, 230 pounds, I don’t conform to mainstream conceptions of the gay/queer/non-straight male. Bisexuals are stereotyped as fence-sitters, straddling the divide between queer and straight culture; instead of trying to pass between the two, I too often clash them together (I love blasting Lady Gaga while practicing my shot with a .222 in the Arizona desert). Bisexuality is about contradictions, simultaneously orthodox and heterodox in its practice of sexuality. I, however, find myself bisexual in most every aspect of my identity: a Democrat in the National Rifle Association, a sexually liberal moral traditionalist, a Christian Darwinist, a romantic sybarite caught between intellectualism and frisson’s appeal. For me, bisexuality is about more than a sexual identity – bisexuality is a philosophy, a method of thought that characterizes how I approach the world and the way in which I lead my life.