L.A. Affairs

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Thanks to therapy, to the pandemic, to stillness, to time and unbearable loneliness, I am looking back on all the people that have entered my life over the years as gifts.

I was sitting in a bar with two friends and looking at my Tinder app. Edan’s nickname popped up. Wait. It couldn’t be my sixth-grade crush, could it?

The social media posts that bum me out? Sober birthdays or anniversaries by single guys. They deserve heart emojis, but my heart holds a deeper story.

I told my best friend that I wasn’t sure whether it was a date or just a casual meetup. When Andrew showed up at my house in a T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, I thought: ‘OK, not a date.’

I am the invisible “B” in LGBTQIA+ — and I deserve to be seen. “Bierasure” is one of the lesser known issues that plague the LGBTQIA+ community. It’s the tendency to ignore and falsify evidence of bisexuality and its existence, and it leads to painful reactions when someone comes out as bisexual.

It’s been one year with him. One year without my mom, who died shortly after we started dating. How do I love, when I carry this certainty that love is always lost?

“You can wear high heels,” he said in a voice that conveyed this would turn him on. “I don’t wear high heels anymore,” I responded. “They’re too uncomfortable.”

Look, I’m 37 and in a no-B.S. zone. What you see is what you get. I’m at the point in my life where I’d rather get everything out on the table on Day One so there are no unwanted surprises.

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I had been traveling the world and was about to head out for a new adventure — Australia. Then, someone mentioned her name: Laura.

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