When I was a young adult, it seemed like I was bombarded with messages that sex with one person was boring.

Promiscuity and casual hookups were celebrated, while long-term monogamy was seen as lame. I tried to fit in with my peers, casually fucking my way through college.

One-night stands and short-term relationships blur together in my memories now, but it was basically years of strangers fumbling to find my clit if I was lucky, or essentially using me as a human sex doll on the unluckier days. I never once got off during one of those random hookups, but I faked it dozens of times just to get them to finish. I thought there was something wrong with me.

But it turns out there’s nothing wrong with me — I’d just never stopped to question whether I was into women or men.

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