Signs That I Was Obviously a Lesbian
By: Jenna Mcrae
Tags: LGBT, Self-awareness, Sexuality, LGBTQ, Lesbian

Signs That I Was Obviously a Lesbian

And just didn’t realize it

Picture by Sam Manns on Unsplash

Compulsory heterosexuality is a very real thing. When I was growing up, being gay or lesbian wasn’t even talked about.

The first time I ever heard the word “gay” was when I was seven years old on the bus to school, when a kid used that word to make fun of me. I asked my parents what “gay” meant when I got home, and they told me it meant “happy.” The next day, when that kid called me gay again, I was completely unbothered by it, thinking it was a compliment. He stopped bothering me after that.

Growing up surrounded by heteronormative entertainment and expectations, hearing things such as “You’re going to meet a great man one day,” “Do you have a crush on him?” and “You two would make a cute couple,” made it very difficult for me to understand my own feelings. If I was supposed to be with a man and have a husband, then no matter how wrong it felt, I should just accept that was how it was supposed to feel, right? What other option was there?

When I first heard about what “gay” and “lesbian” actually meant, I was in middle school, and I did not believe it described me. After all, I had already pictured my future as being with a man and having at least five children. It didn’t sound too terrible.. except for the sex part.

Over time, I began to realize that I did, in fact, fall under the description of “lesbian.” Although it was comforting to know I wasn’t alone — that others shared these feelings about the same sex — it was also a scary revelation.

Even after I realized I was a lesbian, it took me years to actually accept myself.

Looking back, I am amazed I didn’t notice the signs it earlier. If only I knew what to look for — that lesbianism existed — it would have saved me a lot of time and confusion.

Without further ado, here are some of the early signs that I was obviously gay:

In the late hours of the night, long after I should have been sleeping, I could be found hiding under the blanket on my Nintendo DS, creating stories on Pictochat about two girls doing romantic and sexual things together.

The Paper Bag Princess was my favorite book to read in kindergarten because of the artwork.

There was a cute girl who, when she walked by me every morning, my heart would beat really fast and my cheeks would get hot. In an attempt to get her attention, I would write her name with sticks and put them on her path (I was in grade 3, I know I lacked game).

I often imagined myself as being the “man” in a romantic relationship.

I can remember one of my first real crushes, Emily. I did not realize it was a crush at the time, however, but after reading my diary entries from when I was nine, it should have been obvious (please note that I cannot talk to girls):

December 2005

Yesterday, Emily tried to talk to me (I’m shy of her), so I didn’t answer. Later that day I signed up for the washroom on the board. Emily signed up, too. In the washroom I went in a stall that didn’t have a lock on it, and when I walked out, Emily was in front of me! I covered my face with my hands. She tried to get me to talk to her .. I ran out the door. December 2005

Today, my desk was moved next to Emily’s. She tried to talk to me but I didn’t answer. Now she probably hates me. I have no problem talking to her younger sister.. there’s just something about Emily. I hope I can talk to her before she ignores me (if I’m brave enough). December 2005

I did it! Today I finally talked to Emily! It took a lot of courage though.

I had no interest in guys beyond finding them cute. I thought that’s all a crush was at the time; finding someone physically attractive. But I never fantasized about holding their hand, dating them, kissing them, or getting emotionally close with them. In fact, I was always amazed when other girls told me how excited they were to kiss a guy, wondering to myself, “is it really that great, or are we just supposed to pretend it is?”

In fact, I was always amazed when other girls told me how excited they were to kiss a guy, wondering to myself, “is it really that great, or are we just supposed to pretend it is?” I got fuzzy feelings inside every time two girls in movies or books got close together, even though it was always in a platonic way.

In a movie I watched, there was a bathing scene with two girls that I replayed over and over again in my head at night, and there were a few scenes in The Twilight Saga where Alice and Bella were.. close.. which were my favorite parts to read, and which made me quite sweaty.

In essence, a small physical encounter between two women did a lot more for me than Edward and Bella having sex on their honeymoon.

In a movie I watched, there was a bathing scene with two girls that I replayed over and over again in my head at night, and there were a few scenes in The Twilight Saga where Alice and Bella were.. close.. which were my favorite parts to read, and which made me quite sweaty. In essence, a small physical encounter between two women did a lot more for me than Edward and Bella having sex on their honeymoon. I fantasized about girls when I was in time-out. I would lay in my bed for an hour (a long time to an eight-year-old) and imagine myself being intimate with a woman. I would usually pull scenarios from movies I watched, and since there was hardly any LGBTQ+ content in the 2000s, I had to imagine myself as the guy in the scenarios.

The men I did like were always fictional: Peter Pan, Troy Bolton from High School Musical, Harry Potter, Oliver Twist, Link from the Legend of Zelda..

But, as it turns out, I didn’t want to be with them, I wanted to be them.

I was always trying to impress girls.

Was I good at it? Absolutely not (did I really think the perfect somersault or cartwheel would get me anywhere?)

With boys, I didn’t care what they thought, which made me a lot more confident and comfortable with them. I could walk up to a guy and ask for their number — get rejected — and move on with my life.

With a girl, I couldn’t even manage a simple “hello.”

Was I good at it? Absolutely not (did I really think the perfect somersault or cartwheel would get me anywhere?) With boys, I didn’t care what they thought, which made me a lot more confident and comfortable with them. I could walk up to a guy and ask for their number — get rejected — and move on with my life. With a girl, I couldn’t even manage a simple “hello.” I got hot and bothered when a girl slammed me against the lockers.

Looking away from girls in the change room.

I got a little bit too close to my close female friends, if you know what I mean. They had so much control over my emotions and I didn’t know why.

It’s really funny to look back on your younger self with a new perspective on things; to see the things that should have been obvious, but which were, at the time, shrouded by a lack of knowledge.

It’s clear to me now that I have always been a lesbian, and that the men I convinced myself — and others — that I had a crush on, were not based on genuine feelings, but on outside expectations.

I do not regret not knowing then what I know now, nor the journey it took me to get to where I am today. If anything, I am so grateful that I don’t need to pretend to be someone I’m not anymore, even though I didn’t fully realize that is what I was doing. I am thankful that I, too, can enjoy every aspect of a relationship, even if it’s not what I originally believed a relationship to be. I am fortunate to have this newfound self-awareness that allows me to be in a fulfilling partnership with someone I truly love.