Give It To Me Bi: Am I Doomed or Just Bad at Dating?

At this point, we're professional bisexuals. Give It To Me Bi is a bi-weekly advice column where your favorite Bisexual Killjoys answer all your questions about being bi+.

Q.

Dear Bailey & Jace,

I’m a bisexual man who has never been in a relationship. I’ve never really attempted dating either. I was bullied in high school, and I’ve had no one even attempt to date me after that. I’m currently at university and I’m struggling to even make friends. Dating feels like climbing Everest! I’m worried about what will happen when I finish university next year and enter the real world because of it all. I tried societies and they all felt cliquey, and when I tried to get to know people I’ve been told I’m “too nice” or “AI”. And my crushes on people (2 since I’ve started) have gone absolutely nowhere. Any advice on how to deal with this? Or any dating advice, really.

Sincerely,
Bi-Myself

A.

Dear Bi-Myself,

Before I get into this, I need you to know something that people do not say often enough: life gets so much better after college.

And then it gets even better, if still occasionally stupid, when your brain finishes forming in your mid-20s and you stop treating every awkward interaction like it has been entered into evidence at the International Court of Personal Failure.

That’s not me trying to patronize you with, “Baby, just hold on, it gets better.” People told me that shit when I was 20 and it made me want to eat cedar chips and foam at the mouth. What you’re feeling is real. Loneliness is real. Being bullied changes the way you move through the world. Being treated like you are unwanted or strange at an age when everyone is already a raw nerve wearing deodorant is not something you just shrug off because you got a student email address.

So I’m not going to tell you this is all in your head. I am going to tell you that your head may have become an untrue narrative because of what happened to you.

When you have been bullied, ignored, rejected, or socially punished for existing, you start walking into every room already braced for impact. But the truth is: You are not doomed. You are inexperienced. Those are different things.

And I want to underline that because people are very weird about dating experiences. But dating is not a language some people are born speaking. It is a skill. You can learn a skill.

So here’s where I’d start:

Stop treating rejection like a verdict.

When you’ve been bullied, every new rejection feels like it is confirming the original wound. Someone doesn’t text back, and suddenly it’s not, “This person is busy.” It becomes, “See? I knew it. I am fundamentally undesirable.”

That is the old bullying talking. And I mean this with love: that bitch is a liar.

If someone doesn’t want to date you, that tells you they are not available to you in “that way.” That’s it. It does not tell you that you are ugly. It does not tell you that everyone will feel the same. It does not mean you should retreat forever.

People tell me no all the time (I know, shocking. Have you seen my lipstick?). I pitch things. I flirt. I try. I get ignored. I get rejected. I get left on read. It hurts for a second, because I have feelings. Then I remember, “Well, if they don’t want me, why the fuck should I care?” Not in a bitter way. More like: my people will want me. If someone doesn’t, that is useful information. It frees me to keep moving.

Work on being less “nice” and more real.

When people, especially men, are told they are “too nice,” it usually doesn’t mean, “You are too kind, generous, and moral, and we simply cannot bear the radiance of your ethical splendor.” It often means the way you are communicating feels too ingratiating, too formal, too complimentary, and/or too eager to please.

And listen: That is more often a trauma response than not.

A lot of people who were bullied learn to fawn. You become pleasant. You become accommodating. You try to make yourself harmless. You over-explain. You compliment too much. You become so careful not to offend anyone that you sand down all your edges until there is no texture left for someone else to connect with.

You may be thinking, “But, Bailey, I mean what I say! I’m being sincere!”

I know, honey. I believe you. But sometimes sincerity without…grounding can feel like performance. If someone barely knows you and you’re giving them paragraph-long compliments or responding like a customer service chatbot that has recently discovered empathy, they may not know what to do with that. They may feel like you’re trying to win their approval rather than be present with them.

That might be where “AI” is coming from. Not because you are a haunted toaster, but because your communication may feel too agreeable.

Practice having preferences out loud. Not controversial political takes in the middle of someone’s birthday party. Don’t become That Guy. But small preferences like:

• “I actually hated that movie.”

• “I love this band, but their last album was a crime.”

• “I’m not a club person, but I’ll go anywhere with good fries.”

• “I like board games, but Monopoly makes me sick.”

• “I’m trying to get better at meeting people, so I’m forcing myself outside like a Victorian child with rickets.”

Texture. Specificity. A little humor. A little self-knowledge. That’s what makes you feel like a person instead of a Google Home.

Stop trying to break into cliquey spaces. Find activity-based spaces instead.

Fuck societies. Okay, maybe not all societies. Some societies are great. Some are full of nerds sharing biscuits under fluorescent lighting. But if you have tried societies and they felt cliquey, stop trying to force yourself through that door.

University societies can become weird little social kingdoms where everyone is pretending not to care while desperately trying to be seen as valuable. Instead of chasing friendship in places organized around status, go to places organized around activity.

Board games. Video games. Film screenings. Book clubs. Climbing. Running groups. Language exchanges. Volunteering. Queer meetups. Life drawing. Dungeons & Dragons (seriously, that one). Community gardens. Whatever makes you think, “I would probably enjoy this even if I didn’t meet the love of my life there.”

Do not go into every social space scanning for romance. Go because you want to build a life. Dating is much easier when it is one part of a full life rather than the only door through which you believe happiness can enter.

Friendship is not a consolation prize for romance. Friendship is the ecosystem that makes romance less terrifying. And yes, I know you said you are struggling to make friends too. So here is an annoying but true thing: making friends requires consistency more than chemistry. You can’t go to one event, feel weird, decide everyone hates you, and then disappear forever.

You have to become a recurring character.

Show up to the same thing several times. Let people get used to your face. Say hello to the same people. Ask low-stakes questions. Remember one detail and bring it up next time. “How did that assignment go?” “Did you ever finish that game?” “You said you were looking for a new flat…any luck?” Friendship is built out of tiny acts of recognition.

Lower the stakes around dating without lowering your standards.

Dating feels like Everest because you are looking at the summit instead of the next step.

You are not trying to find The One by Friday. You are trying to learn how to talk to people you find interesting. That’s it. Start there.

Also, a date is not a marriage audition. A crush is not a quest. It is information and a chance to learn what you like, what you don’t like, and what kind of people make you feel more like yourself.

Try apps if you want, but treat them like a tool. Put effort into your profile. Use photos where you look like a real person who goes outside at least quarterly. Write prompts that show specificity. Not “I like music and movies.” Everyone likes music and movies.

Go with something like:

• “I will defend this terrible album until the day I die.”

• “Looking for someone who wants to find the best dumplings in the city.”

• “Currently trying to become the kind of person who has a favorite museum.”

• “I’m great at pub quizzes except for sports. Can you help?”

Give people something to respond to.

And when you message people, don’t open with a worship ceremony. No “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen and your eyes contain the sorrow of the moon.” Save that for your gothic novella. Start with something simple but specific from their profile. Ask a question. Make a joke. Keep it light.

Also, think about texting as a medium. Some people are not good on paper. Some texters sound like they are either filing taxes or being held hostage. If that’s you, don’t try to become a digital flirt overnight. Move toward in-person connection when appropriate.

“I’m enjoying talking to you. Want to grab coffee this week?”

Build confidence with practice.

I know everyone tells lonely people to “just be confident,” which is the least helpful advice in the world. It is like telling someone with a broken ankle to “make the hobble hot.”

Confidence is not something you summon because a podcast host with good eyeliner told you to. Confidence is built through evidence. You need to start collecting evidence that you can survive discomfort.

That means practicing rejection. Not because rejection is fun. Rejection is ass. Rejection makes your nervous system behave like you are being hunted for sport. But rejection is also survivable, and the only way your body learns that is through repetition.

Start small. Ask someone from class if they want to grab coffee after a lecture. Ask someone at an event what got them interested in the topic. Message someone from a hobby group and say, “Hey, I’m trying to get out more. Would you want to check out this thing next week?”

Some people will say yes. Some people will say no. Some people will say, “Yeah, definitely!” and then vanish into the mist. That last group is very popular. Try not to take it personally.

The point is not to become immune to rejection. The point is to stop letting rejection run your life like a tiny tyrant in a little hat.

Date yourself first. I know. I’m sorry.

I hate when people say “date yourself” because it sounds like something written in pink cursive (yeah, yeah, our whole season has been about this). But unfortunately, the advice is good.

I’m not convinced you would date yourself right now. Not because you are undateable, but because I don’t think you are seeing yourself clearly.

So take yourself on dates. Go to the café. See the film. Visit the museum. Cook yourself something that didn’t come from a packet. Wear clothes that make you feel like a person you respect. Move your body in a way that feels good. Get a haircut if you want one. Learn what you enjoy when you are not auditioning for approval.

You need a relationship with yourself that is not built entirely around critique. Because if you don’t know what you like, what you value, what makes you feel good, what kind of life you want, and what kind of person you are becoming, then dating becomes less about connection and more about begging someone to validate your existence.

That is too much pressure to put on another person. Also, it attracts the wrong people.

You want to approach dating from a place of, “I am building a life, and I’d like to share parts of it with someone,” not, “Please rescue me from the burning building of my self-esteem.”

Get support for the bullying wound.

Therapy would probably help. I know that is the most predictable advice in the world, but predictable doesn’t mean wrong.

People who were bullied often carry that trauma much longer than they realize. You may have learned to expect rejection before connection has a chance to form. You may be interpreting neutral social signals as negative ones. You may be trying so hard to seem safe that you disappear yourself.

You deserve support with that.

A support group could help, too, especially one for bi+ people or bi+ men. You deserve to be around people who understand the particular weirdness of being a bi man in a world that often treats y’all as either invisible, suspicious, secretly gay, not queer enough, or some other exhausting nonsense from the clearance bin of biphobia.

You deserve mirrors. You deserve peers. You deserve to hear other people say, “Oh, yeah, I’ve felt that too,” and realize you are not uniquely broken. You are having a human experience under shitty conditions.

And generally, go to bi+ events. If you’re in the UK (and maybe I’m making mad assumptions from your letter), there are bi+ organizations and community spaces there, including Biscuit. Look for local LGBTQ+ centers, bi+ meetups, queer book clubs, online communities, and events that are specifically for bi+ people rather than just vaguely queer spaces.

Remember that university is not the whole world.

The good thing about leaving university is that you are no longer trapped inside a social aquarium with people whose brains are still buffering. After university, you can build a life around your actual interests, values, politics, routines, and communities. You can meet people who are not all the same age, not all in the same weird institutional pressure cooker, and not all trying to become president of the Cheese Appreciation Society for résumé reasons (though, I’d be a proud, card-carrying member).

You may find that you do better outside university. Some of us are not built for those environments. Some of us bloom in spaces where people have jobs, rent, hobbies, and enough life experience to stop treating differences like a rash.

But you don’t have to wait until graduation to begin. You do not need to become a social butterfly. You need to become someone who can keep showing up, keep practicing, and keep believing that your life is not over because it has not started in the way you expected.

Beloved, you are not behind. You are beginning.

Beginning can feel like everyone else is watching, even though most people are too busy thinking about their own hair, debt, crush, dissertation, etc. Beginning means being clumsy. It means asking someone out and fumbling the wording. It means going to an event and standing there with a drink like a socially awkward lamp post. It means trying again after your body screams, “Absolutely not, we have already experienced embarrassment and I would like to retire.”

But beginning is how you get a life.

Not a perfect life. A real life. One with friends you did not know you would meet, dates that go nowhere but teach you something, dates that go somewhere, rooms where you feel less strange, and eventually people who like you not because you performed “normal” well enough, but because you became more fully yourself.

You are not unlovable. You are under-practiced, under-supported, and probably much harder on yourself than you deserve.

Dating is Everest only if you think you have to reach the summit today, right this very second. You don’t. Today, you just need to put on your boots and take one step.

Get yourself out there,
Bailey

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