In hindsight, I realize my attraction to females started around the same time adolescence started. I became just as uncomfortable around the pretty girls as I was around the cute boys. I rationalized it at the time by calling it envy.

I remember having a dream where I kissed a girl when I was about 14. I tried desperately to forget it. Of course, the more you try to forget something, the more you usually think about it.

But I found safety in the fact that I still very much liked boys. I found safety in the fact that I was most certainly not gay. It would be a few more years before the term “bisexual” was even introduced to my vocabulary.

I mentioned in a letter to Jared that I’ve never really “come out” because I’ve never really had to. I said that all of my serious relationships have been with men. I haven’t even dated many women, but then again, I haven’t dated many men either.

I met the man who would become my husband (and later my ex-husband) when I was 20 years old. I admitted to myself that I was bisexual when I was 21. The time between when my ex-husband and I separated and my relationship with my current boyfriend became serious was only 5 months. My daughter was 3 years old and she didn’t even know my boyfriend was my boyfriend until she was 4.

So in addition to not having to tell anyone else that I’m bisexual, I’ve never had to tell my daughter either. I’ve never had to say, “Hey honey, we need to talk. . . Mommy’s dating a woman now.” In many ways, that makes it easier for me. I have never been forced into that awkward position. In some ways (and this is largely related to my own anxiety issues), it’s more difficult because I’ve never been forced into that awkward position.

We hear the word “choice” a lot. I never chose to be bisexual, but I do have other choices that the L, G, and T parts of LGBT really don’t. As long as I am dating a man, I can choose who to tell, and more importantly who not to tell, without it affecting my day to day life.

Maybe it’s crazy, but I’m uncomfortable with that. I’m uncomfortable because I’m constantly questioning if and when and how . . . especially when it comes to telling my daughter.

She’s only 7 right now and I’ve had some of the most wonderful conversations with her. She knows that some people are straight and some people are gay. She even knows that some people don’t feel like the gender they were born and some of them take steps to change that. She does not know what a bisexual is and so she certainly doesn’t know that her mother is one.

It’s feasible that I could go through my entire life never telling her. If I stay in my current relationship (or if I don’t, but I never fall in love with a woman), I don’t have to tell my daughter anything. But I don’t think that’s right. I don’t think it would be respectful of her or me to just continue allowing her to believe that her mother is straight for the rest of her life.

I never want my daughter to feel like I’m holding back a part of who I am from her. She deserves to know me as I am. I also don’t think it gives the proper message. If I just don’t tell her, I think it silently portrays the idea that this part of me is less valid than any other part of me. And it’s not.

There are other reasons I think it’s important to tell my daughter regardless of who I am dating and what my relationship status is. Maybe it will be her some day and how wonderful for her if she realizes that and thinks, “This is okay. I’m okay. My mom’s like this too.”? Maybe that’s just me projecting because I wish I would have had someone in my life to let me know when I was 12 that it was okay to like boys and girls.

Maybe it won’t be her, but maybe one of her friends will come out to her and the lack of reaction in her facial expressions will tell her friend that being bi doesn’t make him or her a freak.

Maybe none of that will ever happen, but it will just help further my daughter’s understanding that this world is full of all kinds of people who feel all kinds of ways about other people and that none of that makes any of them “weird” and that everyone, no matter how they identify their gender or sexual orientation, is deserving of love and respect.

After answering the if, I’m still left with the when and how. Every serious conversation I’ve had with my daughter was started out of the blue (usually on a crowded bus or in line at the grocery store or just before a waiter takes our order). I’ve never once intentionally sat her down to talk to her about LGBT rights or death or homelessness or breastfeeding or violent crimes, but we’ve had conversations about all of those things because she brought them up. She’d hear something from a friend or she’d walk behind me while I was reading an article on the computer or she’d see something on TV that piqued her curiosity and then at some random point, she’d start asking questions.

And it would be awkward and I’d stutter . . . and then I’d compose myself and wing it and come out of it thoroughly impressed by how well my little girl understands the complexities of the world in such a simplistic, real, and untarnished way.

I think the conversation regarding her mother’s bisexuality will have to be very much the same. I don’t think I can plan it because I don’t want to force it, at least not now. Maybe in a few years if the conversation hasn’t already presented itself, I’ll figure something else out. But for now, I’ll wait until my daughter asks me some uncomfortable question in the most awkward of places (do all kids have a natural talent for that?) and I’ll wing it . . . just like I always have.