"But I thought you were boy wild!"

They weren't my grandma's exact words. Her exact words were "boy crazy" but I don't like that word or it's connotations and so I choose to use "wild" in its stead.

I laughed so hard as the words left my grandma's lips in Oklahoma and hit my ears in Australia. I understood exactly what she was saying. Her response was warranted and didn’t catch me off guard at all.

I calmly explained to her the things I came to realise about myself and how the religion I grew up in played a huge part in the way my beliefs around relationships and what was “right“ were formed. It’s funny to me that I am sitting here, trying to recall all the indoctrination that went into me dating boys but the question my girlfriend asked me a couple years ago is stuck in my head. 

“If you are clearly so gay, why did you only date boys?”

The movies I grew up watching and relationship examples I had in the 90's and early 2000's played a big part in my conditioning and like I mentioned before, my upbringing in the church was the biggest part in this. Because although (almost) all of my childhood crushes were girls, my brain couldn’t reconcile what I had been taught and for the longest time I believed that this was how all women felt.

None of us were actually attracted to a man, right?

I was taught that only men were visual and had attractions that way but if that were true then why couldn’t I stop thinking about a woman, about her curves and about how her soft kisses would taste? I excused that too. My brain, again, trying to sort left from right, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I eventually settled it, I must be bisexual. I must just like both, but deep down the nagging continued. 

As a child growing up in the 90’s, the worst thing you could do was disappoint your parents.

This hugely contributed to me pushing my true feelings down and walking the path I did.

Even heading into motherhood I felt so reliant on them, longing for their approval even though I felt like time after time I disappointed them and didn’t live up to their standards for me and my life.

Was I actually wild about boys growing up or was I seeking love, acceptance and validation in an acceptable way to my parents?

I remember the day the realisation hit me that I would rather live the life I desire and disappoint my parents than to give up on myself, my life and love so easily. 

It wasn't all at once but a slow recognition that unfolded over years and took me longer than it should have to be honest about.