What I’ve Learned Dating Multiple Genders

By Amy Henderson

It took me an entire lockdown to finally accept that I was not 100% straight. I put this revelation down to too much time alone with my thoughts.

Lockdown crawled by. Eventually, I went back to university. In other words, to a big, anonymous city with thousands of young, cabin-fevered people within easy swiping access. I took the plunge and set my dating preferences to ‘everyone’.

What, you might ask, did I learn along the way? The answer is much more than I could have anticipated.

Get comfortable with being uncomfortable

For me, dating threw up a whole slew of unconscious biases (assumptions about a labelled group without actually knowing the individuals who make up the group) that I didn’t realise I had; for example, it is easy to believe that if someone has a specific life experience, they must believe the current narrative mainstream media portrays them to have.

One woman that I dated was trans, and she specifically agreed with the ban on transgender athletes in certain sports categories. My oh-so-woke left-wing third-year student self was shocked she could possibly think this. Didn’t she recognise how she had been brainwashed into self-hatred by the mainstream media?

‘Think about it,’ she said calmly. ‘The way I see it is, I can’t lose what muscle strength and power I gained as a teenager. If I went into boxing, I would put myself in the men’s category; I don’t think it’s fair otherwise.’ Who am I, a cis woman, to say that her lived experience is wrong? Granted, she does not represent an entire community’s views, but some things do not need my inexperienced voice adding to the conversation.

It is uncomfortable to see yourself in a new light that you didn’t know you could be seen in, to know that you are equally judging and being judged. However, knowledge is power. Learning more about yourself is never a bad thing – if anything, it is liberating.

Women will fuck you over

Remember those unconscious biases I was discovering existed within myself?

It is reasonably common knowledge that in patriarchal societies, women especially are held to a higher moral standard. Women are ‘angels’, caring creatures who do no wrong or harm, meaning that we have further to fall should we ever fail to live up to these ridiculous standards. I had previously believed that I was a critical individual who could spot these inconsistent morals in others and learn to avoid them. Too late – they were already within me, inches below the surface!

It was only going to lead to me getting hurt to learn this lesson: a woman can be just as much of a fuckboy as a stereotypical jock from a noughties romcom. I dated women with fragile egos looking for someone to ‘fix’ them, women professing love after four weeks with wild, over-the-top declarations and promises, then saying three weeks after that, ‘I’m just not able to commit to the relationship you want right now.’ Over text. It is honestly laughable now, but I realised how much I had fallen victim to holding women to a different standard in my own dating life.

I had assumed that because the men I had dated in the past had treated me poorly, and because ALL women who have dated men have a shared experience of this, these women would know what they were doing and not hurt women in the way men had hurt them. Now, whenever my straight friends complain about the men in their lives and say that old washed-up phrase, ‘Fuck it, I’ll just start dating women. It’ll be so much easier,’ I snort and respond with the perfectly appropriate, ‘Sure.’

People are complicated

Previously, I had always assumed that when it came to sex, men had the fragile egos. They refused to try anything other than missionary – maybe doggy if they wanted to be ‘kinky’ – and absolutely no toys because ‘it’s not me making you cum’. Then, I dated a cis man who couldn’t care less and was up for trying anything I was comfortable with, and who made me feel confident and safe.

I also discovered a whole host of shaming around using sex toys from cis women, which made me frustrated and insecure, especially when one of them told me that they had never had an orgasm. The apparent reversal of gender stereotypes baffled me; everything I thought I knew about dating one type of personality or one gender was irrelevant.

We are raised with labels because labels are useful: with a label comes identity. I once heard someone say, ‘You wouldn’t buy a tin if you didn’t know what was in it.’ Whilst I appreciate the witticism, people aren’t objects that can be narrowed down in the same way as a soup can. People may fit a label; they do not always fit the assumptions that go with it.

People are complicated. I hate that phrase, as it is usually used to excuse bigoted behaviour or intolerance, but nevertheless, it is true. It is easy to make both positive and negative assumptions about a group that just aren’t true for the individuals within; all gay men do not dress well, and all cis straight white men are not wilfully ignorant about their privileges. Yes, we must acknowledge systemic issues that lead to the benefit of some groups at the detriment of others. But it is important to remember that they are not complete definitions of people.

Dating is strange when you think about it. The cynic in me sees it as using people and casting them off if they are not a good fit, like clothes to landfill. The hopeful in me tries to see each date as a privilege; you are being allowed into someone’s intimate life for a short space of time. My advice is to enjoy it. Enjoy the discovery, enjoy getting to know someone on such a level, and try to leave the labels at the door.