Post from Kim Aileen Zambellini from our community

For three months, I was simultaneously in a relationship with my husband and with a woman. During that time, as a bisexual woman, I felt complete in my sexuality for the very first time. And at the same time, bi-erasure became more tangible to me than ever before.

I had the privilege of not having to confront it for a long time. As a bisexual woman in a heterosexual relationship, I blend in—I benefit from the safety, normality, and freedom of not having to explain myself. But being invisible also means not being fully seen. I only understood that when both realities suddenly existed at once: the privilege and the obstacle, the visibility and the erasure.

When I Never Had to Question Anything

As a bisexual person in our heteronormative world, I spent a long time without questioning my sexuality. During school, I was happy exploring relationships with boys. I never actively had a crush on a girl, so I never had to wonder whether there was more to me than heterosexuality.

How could I? There wasn’t much time between relationships, and when I was in one, I never looked elsewhere. Being with a boy felt “normal” because it was what I saw modeled around me every day.

It wasn’t until university, when I began writing and my relationship had gradually shifted into a friendship, that I occasionally found myself thinking about women—not necessarily women in my everyday life, but women in books and stories. Along with those thoughts came the question: Was I really only attracted to men?

But because I was still in the long-term relationship I had started in school, I could only explore that question theoretically—in my mind and in my writing.

When I Still Needed Proof

Only after my post-graduate training took me to southern Germany, turning our relationship into a long-distance one, and after we finally accepted that we had become more best friends than romantic partners, did I get the chance to explore my sexuality anew.

Somehow, I needed proof before I could believe what I had been feeling internally for over a year.

And although I eventually “proved” to myself that I was truly bisexual—or pansexual, depending on how inclined I felt to explain my sexuality—I ultimately ended up with a man again. Not just any man, but my husband.

When I Started Erasing Myself

I entered our relationship openly discussing my sexuality, and I never hid the fact that I could imagine loving more than one person at a time. He was clear that he wanted a monogamous relationship, and I accepted that at the time. Our love was stronger than that difference.

At the beginning of our—factually heterosexual—relationship, I was still actively involved in queer advocacy through my work in publishing, never missing an opportunity to bring queer stories into publishing programs.

Then I became a mother, and suddenly my life revolved around being available for this tiny new human 24/7 while trying to adjust to an entirely new reality.

At the same time, I realized that I had not been living the life that was truly calling to me. While I was growing closer to myself in many ways, I was moving further and further away from my bisexuality. Unconsciously and unintentionally, I was erasing more and more of that part of myself—simply because I was no longer actively living or representing it.

When I Suddenly Lived Both Realities at Once

The fact that I could love multiple people at the same time came up about once a year in conversations with my husband—usually when my fear became overwhelming that I might accidentally fall in love with someone else, knowing it would hurt him.

Then came the day when not only I, but both of us, fell in love with a wonderful person—a woman.

Aside from trying to navigate a love that existed outside social norms and facing all the challenges it brought, I experienced something profound: for what felt like the first time, I was able to love a woman deeply and fully. After years of feeling disconnected from my bisexuality, it was beautiful.

Suddenly, I experienced both realities at once. I had the privilege of being with my husband in public without attracting attention or needing to explain myself. But I also experienced the stares of strangers when I kissed my girlfriend in public.

I had to actively come out again whenever I introduced my girlfriend, rather than automatically being assumed straight because people saw my husband. And our dreams of traveling together suddenly came with a bitter realization: our love was not legal everywhere in the world.

It was bittersweet and eye-opening all at once.

When I Felt Complete for the First Time

I needed this experience — even though it did not ultimately end the way I had hoped.

Being loved by both a woman and a man, while loving them in return, liberated me on levels I never thought possible. For the first time, I was no longer one thing or the other. I could embrace both aspects of my sexuality simultaneously.

It was not a “phase,” and I was not simply “unable to decide.”

I learned that love and sexual attraction toward a man and toward a woman can feel completely different—and that neither experience lacks anything. One connection was not stronger or weaker because it involved a different gender. Comparing them was nearly impossible.

And for me personally, that experience dismantled every stereotype and misconception that bisexual people are forced to confront.

What This Means for Me as a Bisexual Person — and What It Doesn’t

For me personally, this does not mean that I now need to be with both a woman and a man simultaneously in order to feel my bisexuality in its entirety.

I am just as bisexual, complete, and happy when I am “only” with my husband.

The difference is that now I choose that life freely.

And I know that I never want to let my bisexuality become invisible again.

I do not need to live polyamorously to make my bisexuality visible. I can do that by writing about it, by refusing to hide it or let it be erased, and by connecting with the community.

About the Author

Kim is a blogger who writes at liebeistnichtlinear.blog about self-love, communication, and love beyond social norms. She is bisexual and married, ambiamorous and monogamous, and convinced that love is rarely linear.