At the latest When I saw Hiram Keller in Federico Fellini’s masterpiece *Satyricon* in early 1995, it dawned on me: yes, I suppose I do like boys. I was fourteen at the time. Not long after, in January 1996, I saw Tori Amos on the cover of her album *Boys for Pele* for the first time and knew: I fancy women too. I was fifteen at the time. In my early twenties, being „not straight“ meant not knowing whether I’d rather go on a date with Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt. I fancied both of them. Now, in my mid-40s, the only thing that matters to me is whether I feel an attraction to someone – a connection based primarily on humour and life experience, which is completely detached from the other person’s gender. Although, of course, it helps if the person is good-looking.
Let’s see how I’ll feel when I’m sixty and in my mid-eighties. But first things first.
Hiram Keller and Tori Amos may have been the final signs of my broad sexual interests, but before them there were already plenty of other beautiful people who had caught my teenage eye. Be it Jason Orange, whom I saw topless and with that face (!) in the summer of 1993 in the music video for „Pray“ by Take That on MTV (great song… and what a handsome man), the young Arnaud Boetsch (a mediocre tennis player… and what a handsome man), Grace Jones (a true icon… and what a beautiful woman) or Gates McFadden (a decent actress and… yes, what a beautiful woman). There were plenty of signs. Interestingly, however, the realisations mentioned above regarding my sexuality were completely unspectacular and devoid of drama. And that meant I didn’t really think about my sexuality for a long time, nor did I need to.
At this point, I must make a fundamental observation: as I get older, I realise just how little I actually know about life. Despite my mind still being very sharp, I cannot deny that our world has become a truly fast-paced one. Or, to put it another way: I don’t always have time to reflect on all the things that really matter – and yet I find myself thinking about them all the time.
Be it local and global politics, thoughts on important discussions and processes in my profession, or even trivial matters such as music, sport, films… not to mention my relationship, all my other social contacts and, last but not least, my relationship with myself. There’s a great deal that goes through my mind between waking up and going to bed. It’s, as it were, the physically connoted potential energy of my inner world of thoughts, before it comes to fruition. They remain in a state of anticipation, waiting for me to take the time – either of my own accord or because I am compelled to – to engage with a particular topic.
And now this post for IWWIT is suddenly forcing me not only to ask myself the question, but also to answer it: where do I actually stand on my own sexuality? How bi am I? Am I perhaps more poly- or even pansexual? Under which umbrella term do I feel most comfortable? Is there ever any going back, or could my sexuality still develop in a different direction? How often a year – or a decade – do I need to have sex with people of different genders to credibly claim the label of a diverse sexuality? And how does such a definition really define my own sexuality? Do I actually need such a specific definition for myself personally – or does it merely help other people to categorise me and make me (more) tangible?
Questions that, upon even brief reflection, lie hidden behind the essentially trivial statement: „I am neither homosexual nor heterosexual.“ Various aspects that deserve closer examination: how do I see myself? How does my husband see me? How do those around me see me, and where does this issue stand in society’s perception?
The Of course, I’m no stranger to questions about my own sexuality. However, as casual as it sounds, that’s exactly how it actually was in my life. At some point, it dawned on me that I like men. Cool! A bit later, I realised that I also find women attractive. Groovy! At some point, it dawned on me that gender has no bearing on whether I find someone attractive. Yeah! Each time, I was able to come to terms with it easily and without any conflict. Perhaps it helped that, from an early age, I was very consciously consuming media that portrayed this topic in a relatively relaxed way:
The film *Satyricon*, mentioned earlier, is based on a fantastic literary work from the first century AD. The poet Titus Petronius Arbiter wrote what is today the oldest surviving prose work in Latin literature. It is an often satirical portrayal of life during the reign of Emperor Nero, in which virtually all the characters are constantly either debating, eating or having sex. The latter takes place with people of all genders, a fact which no one in the book questions. I found the treatment of sexuality in many songs during my youth to be similarly uninhibited. Madonna (the video for „Human Nature“), the Pet Shop Boys (the video for „Se A Vida E“) or Ricky Martin (who wasn’t at all choosy about who he let touch him lasciviously in the video for „She Bangs“), all of whom played rather openly with cross-gender sexuality. If you just look closely enough.
Films and TV series were also exploring this theme decades ago. Fortunately, even after more than 50 years, Tim Curry’s portrayal of Dr Frank N. Furter remains unforgettable. And even *Star Trek: The Next Generation* featured, in the fifth season’s episode „The Outcast“, which featured a budding romantic relationship between Commander Riker – typically a heartthrob – and a member of an androgynous species for whom the expression of a distinct gender is seen as an act of sexual perversion. Perhaps not entirely convincing in terms of plot, but certainly progressive. Furthermore, as a child and teenager, I was fortunate enough to be surrounded for years by family friends, many of whom would probably describe themselves as queer today, but who back then were simply being true to themselves. At least in my perception as a child and teenager.
When I take the time to look back on the people I’ve found sexually attractive over the course of my life, I can hardly make out a pattern. Bi my Guest: The only consistent factors are a sense of humour (preferably offbeat), life experience – aka „someone with a story to tell“ – likeability, and an intriguing face that I can’t get enough of. Everything else is volatile, fluctuating, fluid. Neither gender nor ethnic background – and, to a limited extent, age – are decisive factors for me.
To me, this realisation is both astonishing and simple. Astonishing because it means there are around 5.6 billion adults in the world to whom I could, in theory, feel sexually attracted simply by virtue of their existence – whilst at the same time I know how rare it actually is for me to find anyone sexually attractive. And at the same time, it’s simple because: well, why on earth should basic physical attributes such as breasts, a penis, chest hair or a vagina dictate when I’m allowed to find someone sexually (un)attractive from the outset? There’s simply no reason for that. All the attributes mentioned are beautiful and, in individual cases, attractive too.
My personal conclusion so far is therefore this: I don’t need a definitive or defining label for myself to describe what my sexuality „is called“. I live it to the full and have been welcoming all its developments and changes with open arms for over 30 years.
How But what about the people around me? A couple of points to note here: I am a cis man and married to a gay cis man. We have a relationship that, emotionally speaking, exists solely between the two of us, but which is also „sexually open“. Early on in our relationship, we talked about what interests and attracts each of us sexually. At the start, I probably underestimated that it can be a hurdle for a gay man to be in a relationship with a bi-/poly-/pan-/whatever-sexual man. Fortunately, this difference has never really affected us, though it has certainly been on our minds.
The most important insight we both gained following intensive and honest discussions was this: as a gay man and as a pansexual, I can find many other men – or people – attractive alongside my partner. The question, however, is whether I can and want to commit emotionally to a single person in the long term. If the answer here is an honest „yes“ from both sides, there’s hardly any need to worry about the rest. Then it simply doesn’t matter whether there are 5.6 billion other sexually active people in the world, or just 2.8 billion sexually active men or women.
Fortunately, for many years now, we have both been able – and willing – to commit emotionally to one another and no one else. The not-so-surprising magic words here are respect, openness (in communicating and understanding) and trust. Without these pillars as a foundation, it becomes difficult to maintain a relationship – and, to be honest, this is true regardless of the partners’ sexual preferences in that particular relationship.
Stay the people around me: friends and the grey, ominous mass that is „society“. I’m leaving out my birth family, as they play hardly any role in my life. In short, my friends love the fact that they can talk to me about sexual escapades in almost any form, and I can very often nod knowingly and always, at the very least, sympathetically. I don’t think any of them are bothered in the slightest that I’m sexually attracted to a wide range of people – most of them probably don’t even care, in the most positive sense. I have absolutely no recollection of ever having a conflict with anyone simply because I’m not sexually fixated on just one gender.
But despite the depictions already mentioned in art forms such as music, literature, film and television, the representation of bi-, poly- and pansexuality in everyday life remains, of course, sporadic at best and far too limited. To a certain extent, I can even understand why this is the case. As an insurance company, political party or children’s clothing manufacturer, for example, I can easily advertise using a heterosexual or homosexual family image. A woman, man and child, or two women and a child, are easily recognisable in an advert. But how do I clearly and precisely convey that the man in the first example is not heterosexual but bisexual, and that one of the women in the second example is pansexual? Presumably impossible. By the way: jokes about lesbians and gay men are, in my view, just as quick to tell and just as readily available as jokes about blondes, driving a Manta or viola players. Jokes about bisexuals, on the other hand, confusingly enough, usually tend to stand alone.
The new IWWIT campaign has come at just the right time. Bi-, poly- and pansexuality deserve the same platform as traditional sexual orientations. We’re also represented within the LGBTIQ+ spectrum, even if the terminology isn’t quite spot on. But I can overlook that if it means I’ll get to hear a good joke about us at some point in the future. Alternatively, I’d be delighted to see a great series of parties organised just for us.
In order to To round things off, let’s complete the linguistic circular argument: still both of them. But Brad Pitt only when he was young, and Angelina Jolie at any time.
