Two Different Worlds

Being bisexual can make some feel like they are hovering between two different worlds, the heterosexual and the homosexual.  Bisexuals not only face possible discrimination from one, but often both.  I’ve been very lucky, I haven’t really faced this (well not to my face), I’ve always had a solid group of friends since I’ve been out.  I may get an occasional sarky remark, but it’s usually in jest and not something I’d deem offensive.  Therefore, I havnt really experienced feeling torn between the two worlds.  That is, until I leave Brighton.

This weekend I was struck by the fact I live in two different worlds, one in which I have my family and one in which I have the rest of my life; my partner, my home, my friends and my writing.  Now this isn’t to say anyone has made me live a certain way in a particular place.  Far from it.  Its just as humans, you react to environments in different ways.

The two worlds..

One:  Surrey.  Grandparents house.  Bone china.  Roast Sunday lunch.  Green lawns.  Millionaire mansions. Money. Speaking ‘correctly.’ Being courteous.  Dressing smartly.

The other: Brighton. Home. 5 year old mugs.  Spud and hoops.  The Sea.  Tramps in parks.  Student housing.  Being skint.  Using slang.  Wink and a wave.  Dressing like a dyke.

I go back to this other world and feel like I stick out like a sore thumb.  Its like I have 'gay' tattooed across my forehead.  However much I try and fit in, I feel feel I dont.

I find it very bizarre both going home and visiting my grandparents.  Partly as they aren’t 100% supportive of my lifestyle and also because it’s like stepping back in time.  In my old room I still have my ex’s photo in a frame and it’s exactly like it was 6 years ago when I left home.  Not a single thing has changed.  The strangest thing is it somewhat feels like I’ve gone back to my old mind-set when I’ve been there a few days.  I go shopping and I buy different clothes to ones I’d buy in Brighton; straighter and more modest.  I also start eating things I haven’t eaten for years, things I haven’t even thought twice about since last being at home.  Salted peanuts.   Battenberg cake.  Sultana cookies.

It’s strange, going from one world to the next; the hour train journey between the two creates an effective buffer.  A buffer from gay to straight; straight to gay.  I am of course, overly dramatic but it’s true, others feel this too. 

It's not I dislike going home, far from it.  I enjoy going home, being pampered and spending time with my family.  Its just one of the few times in my life where I'm hugely conscious of who I am and where my life is heading.