The Brief Evolution of My Sexuality: A Poem

By: Anonymous

“Maybe you just admire her, you’re not like that,“ my mother said.

For weeks I had been grappling with confused, excited, and upset feelings.
I was wildly drawn to this person,
unlike any connection I had with someone before.

She was covered in tattoos.

A weightlifting enthusiast.
No, a weightlifting junkie with an undercut.

Outwardly, we were nothing alike.


I was wasting away in the monotony of
weekend binge drinking.
My life had drawn the same pattern year after year.
And I felt I had made no progress in my personal life.
I felt the weight of my age should have steered me toward a more wholesome lifestyle by then.
I threw myself into my work.

Being a workaholic and a weekend socialite made for tough Mondays.


We were both women.
And to me,
that should have propelled us apart.

but we were magnetic.

And strangely enough,
my mother was the first person I called after I slept with Ashley.

My attraction to all people was something I never hid from her and I carried my affinity for a spectrum of people with pride, but it also never came up.

I had only ever brought home boys.

For my family, my sexual transition was seamless
which was very touching and reminded me of where I came from;
an accepting and loving family.


When we got engaged, my mother gushed, “I feel like I’m gaining a daughter.”
She couldn’t be more proud of Ashley.
Truth is, I think she identifies closely with her.

I’m marrying my mother.

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