I Came Out to My Boyfriend as Bisexual, and Our Sex Life Has Never Been Better

"Nick, I'm gay," I said to the ceiling as my boyfriend rolled over in bed to face me. At the time, I didn't have the word "bisexual" or "queer" in my vocabulary. I only knew that I was attracted to more than one gender, and the world had led me to believe this was something I should be ashamed of — and you know what gets in the way of good sex? Shame.

We had been living together for a year when I came out to my boyfriend. It was a 120-degree summer day in Arizona, and we had kicked all the bedsheets off the bed during sex. The air conditioner was whining from the effort to keep us cool. Yet I still felt gross — sweaty from the heat and sex and knowing what I knew. (The whole "being gay" thing.) I'm still unsure why I picked this moment to tell him I was attracted to women.

Wait, that's a lie. I told Nick after sex because while I was lying on that sweaty mattress, I realised we both deserved better. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't "unsatisfied" with our sex life. But despite being closeted, I knew keeping this part of myself a secret wasn't doing me any favours. It felt like I had reached a point in our relationship where staying silent about it became inherently a lie. How could I expect intimacy without sharing the most intimate parts of who I am?

Coming out as bisexual to my opposite-gendered partner was the best thing I could've done for my sex life. Now that I wasn't holding something back, it allowed me to want what I wanted. It helped break down all of the preconceived notions I had about sex, especially when it came to gender performance. It brought to the surface all of the subconscious stuff that only comes up when you have to look at it directly and ask, "Wait, why do we do it like this?" We could simply exist instead of acting out a part of "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" as if we lived on some sitcom set.

Also, it gave me access to a queer relationship — something I secretly coveted. I worried that being in a "straight-passing" relationship would keep me from experiencing a true queer community. Now I know as a bisexual person, all of my relationships are queer relationships. I love my queerness the same way I love my sense of humour or any other parts that make up my identity. I deserve to feel comfortable with myself within my relationship. And I deserve to be with someone who considers my queerness another reason to love me.

Nick has proven that time and time again, whether it's listening to me recap my night out with new queer friends at a gay bar, being thrilled for me that I got the queer haircut of my dreams, or letting me borrow his clothes when I have gender dysphoria. Learning and better understanding your sexuality within a relationship is tricky, but it is a growth opportunity not everyone has the chance to experience. Instead of seeing it as a roadblock, it got us thinking creatively about what truly drives our desires and how to meet each other where we're at. Also, it taught me that love shouldn't come with conditions (something I wish Disney had taught me sooner).

When I eventually decided to come out to everyone else in my life, Nick fielded questions from family so I could focus on the joy of being my authentic self. After one particular phone call with a relative who had invasive questions about the current state of our relationship, I couldn't stop myself from apologising for making our life together more challenging. His response? "Your existence in the world isn't just to be pleasant and agreeable." And boy, did we have hot sex after that. There's nothing sexier than your partner defending your right to take up space.

So yes, coming out as bisexual to my boyfriend led to better sex, but ironically, it wasn't about the sex at all. It was watching myself trust someone and them trusting me back. It was exploring something new and exciting together. It was embracing my true self, trusting him to love every part of me. Everything in the relationship felt more honest, which meant sex was less stressful and more fun. And honestly, that's pretty hot.