I went on a work trip – and realised I’m bisexual

‘I already know,’ my husband said with a smile.

My nerves melted away instantly in the warm glow of his acceptance after I told him I was bisexual five years into our marriage.

A big coming out was never in my plans, yet the moment I understood that I was bisexual, at 28, I told the person I trusted the most, not knowing he was already fully aware.

But that realisation didn’t happen overnight – the pieces started to come together on my first visit to Europe. Three years before that fateful conversation.

Growing up, I thought there were two options: straight or lesbian. I didn’t really have any queer role models in my life, so I mirrored what I saw around me. 

So, because I was attracted to men, I assumed that meant I was straight. 

It wasn’t until meeting other bisexual women in my university years that I realised sexuality isn’t a simple tick box; there’s an entire spectrum. 

That understanding began to take shape during a German work trip. 

I was at a new job, surrounded by new colleagues, traveling to Europe for the first time. The workdays were long, hot, and confined to an overcrowded indoor space. 

It was a perfect July day; green, warm and alive, when, on an outing to escape the office, I wandered into one of the biggest Pride events in Europe.

That was Berlin Pride, which was the scene of an appalling attack last week, and seeing that just brought home how important the event was.

Because this moment launched my journey towards embracing my sexual identity. 

From then, I followed queer creators on social media, attended community events, and had open discussions with people close to me. It all gave me the confidence to explore a deeper understanding of who I have always been. 

And so, I finally found who I was.

But now, when I share with people that I’m bisexual, and that I came out after I was married, it’s often followed with: ‘but you’re married to a man?’

I chose my husband as my partner in this life 13 years ago because of who he is as a human, regardless of gender. Thankfully, he chose me too. 

Even before I was out, I never felt something was missing between us – only that there was something missing within me.

After hearing ‘I already know’ from my husband, we chatted about how I came to this realisation and how he could support me in this journey.

The answer was immediate: Pride. 

I wanted to experience it rather than accidentally observing. 

But in the USA, attending Pride didn’t feel safe. 

Pride events in the US are often targets for harassment or worse, and the fact that LGBTQ+ people are five times more likely to be victims of violent crime in the US made the idea of attending more overwhelming than exciting.

I was also worried about being judged professionally or how it might change people’s perception of me.

At my job, my superiors had previously joked about pansexuality and bisexuality being trends and that they’re ‘just a phase’ – so, I stayed under the radar and was out to my closest friends and family, living my not-so-secret-but-plausibly-deniable bisexual life. 

But everything changed when my husband and I moved to Portugal, three years after I came out, to start our own business. 

From the moment we arrived, something felt different – there was less pressure, less expectation. People lived more openly. I saw couples of all genders holding hands and showing each other affection in the streets.

And for the first time, I was meeting people as my full self – a bisexual woman.

Within weeks, I got involved with local Pride events: supporting my new friends’ performances at queer open mic nights and working with local queer tour guides to promote gay-friendly bars and clubs. 

This year at my first official Pride – Lagos Pride, in Portugal – I showed up fully. 

With rainbow freckles painted across my cheeks, vibrant purple hair, a bisexual flag proudly trailing behind me, I walked with my pride, and even had my husband and best friend cheering me on. 

I remember feeling something I’d never felt before: uninhibited authenticity. 

We danced along the Algarve coast on a Pride boat cruise and even saw dolphins. It was a truly magical experience. 

But what stood out the most was that there was no anxiety about being judged, and no pressure to explain myself.

One thing I’ve learned throughout my journey is when living as only part of myself, it was far more exhausting than I realised. Stepping into my full identity brought me a kind of joy that changed everything.

And sometimes, a new start in a new place can give you the space to finally become the person you’ve always been.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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