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And he brought his best friend from high school with him. In two sentences he let us each know how significant the other was in his life, and let Devon know I was only interested in friendship. We determined it was indeed our first meeting and decided it was just because we were both so close to our mutual friend.

It’s still hilarious, especially given the outcome. They convinced me to go with them to the party, and Devon and I spent the night in a corner by ourselves, talking, talking, talking.

I’d hear over and over that bisexuality isn’t really a thing—it’s either a stop on the way to gay town, or I was just a threesome-loving slut.

These were relatively safe, socially acceptable boxes with which one could identify in my progressive California life. We were considered confused at best, and deviant at worst.

From the outside it looked like the contradictions between us would make our relationship a quick fling at best. When people asked what the f*ck was going on, I simply said, “We’re happy.” My simple answer worked for a while.

A feminist, peace-and-love, outspoken “gay” girl with a tech geek, fresh-from-deployment Marine? In fact, our plainly visible happiness made it pretty easy for our friends to accept.

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