Why I Stopped Apologizing for My Bisexual Celebrity Crushes
For years, I treated my celebrity crushes like evidence that needed a defence. If I mentioned being attracted to an actress, singer, or fictional woman, I would quickly add that I was bisexual, that I had dated men, or that I was “probably just appreciating her beauty”. The attraction itself felt too exposed, especially when it existed alongside my attraction to men.
That reflex was never really about celebrities. It came from the pressure to make bisexuality understandable, tidy, and acceptable to everyone else. I am writing this from a coffee-fuelled, feminist corner of the internet where identity can be complicated and still valid. A crush does not require a courtroom argument, a dating history, or an apology.
The Apology Was Doing More Than I Realised
An apology can sound harmless. “Sorry, I have such a crush on her” might be a joking phrase, particularly in a group chat or while watching a music video. Yet my apologies carried a deeper message: I was acting as though my attraction to women was surprising, inconvenient, or less legitimate than my attraction to men.
I would soften the statement with nervous laughter. I might say I was “not actually gay” or explain that I had never met the celebrity, as if distance made the feeling less real. Sometimes I worried that friends would think I was performing queerness for attention. Other times, I feared that queer people would decide I was not bisexual enough.
That anxiety reflects a familiar form of bi erasure. People often treat bisexuality as a temporary phase, a fashionable label, or a half-way point before someone chooses a “real” sexuality. Celebrity crushes became another place where I tried to prove that I was sincere, even though sincerity has never depended on having the correct ratio of attraction.
Celebrity Desire Is Still Part of Identity
A crush is not a contract. It does not predict who I will date, whether I want a relationship, or how I understand my gender and sexuality. It can be playful, romantic, physical, aesthetic, aspirational, or all of those things at once. A person can admire a woman’s confidence, feel drawn to her beauty, and recognise a genuine queer spark without needing to turn the moment into a life plan.
Celebrity attraction also gives us room to notice ourselves safely. A song, film, interview, or television character can bring feelings into focus before we have language for them. I remember being captivated by women on screen long before I felt comfortable calling that attraction. The crush was not proof of anything by itself, but it was information about my inner life.
That information deserves curiosity rather than shame. I can enjoy a bisexual celebrity crush while recognising the limits of parasocial intimacy. I do not know the person behind the public image, and attraction should never become entitlement. Respecting that boundary makes the feeling healthier, not less genuine.
What I Was Really Trying to Prove
My apologies were often attempts to manage other people’s discomfort. I wanted straight friends to know I was not making a dramatic announcement. I wanted queer friends to know I understood the community. I wanted men not to interpret my attraction to women as entertainment arranged for their approval.
There is a particular pressure placed on bisexual women to make desire legible to a presumed male audience. A woman can be expected to be attractive to men while her attraction to women is treated as an accessory. That is why saying “I fancy her” sometimes felt politically loaded. I was not merely naming a crush; I was rejecting the idea that my desire existed for somebody else’s consumption.
Writing publicly has made me more aware of this pattern. The work of sharing personal stories is vulnerable, and the truth about blogging includes learning that honesty cannot be controlled once it leaves your screen. I cannot pre-empt every misunderstanding by explaining myself perfectly. I can choose language that feels accurate and let it stand.
Being Bi in Everyday Australian Life
Australian culture can be relaxed about teasing while still being uneasy about emotional honesty. In a Melbourne café, a Sydney share house, or a Brisbane group chat, a joke about a celebrity crush may pass quickly, but a sincere statement about bisexuality can make the atmosphere change. Many of us learn to disguise vulnerability as humour, especially when coffee, sarcasm, and “taking the piss” are everyday social habits.
Visibility also varies sharply across the country. Sydney’s Mardi Gras can make queer life highly visible, while someone in a regional town may have fewer affirming spaces or may rely on online communities for support. Even in cities with thriving LGBTQIA+ scenes, bisexual people can feel overlooked, particularly when public conversations focus on gay men or lesbians and treat bisexuality as an afterthought.
Australia has made important legal progress. The Marriage Amendment (Definition and Religious Freedoms) Act 2017 recognised marriage equality, and federal and state anti-discrimination protections can offer recourse in employment, education, and services. Those protections matter, but laws do not erase biphobia in families, workplaces, dating culture, or media representation. A legal right to exist is not the same as feeling unobserved while naming a crush.
The local media market adds another layer. Australian audiences consume Hollywood celebrities through streaming platforms, music tours, magazines, and social media, while local queer stories compete for space in a relatively small entertainment industry. When bisexual characters are reduced to stereotypes, real people absorb the message. Refusing to apologise for attraction becomes a small act of correcting that narrow script.
Practices That Made Honesty Easier
I did not stop apologising because I suddenly became fearless. I stopped by noticing the words that followed my attraction and asking whether they clarified anything. Usually, they were there to protect me from an imagined accusation. Removing them felt awkward at first, then ordinary.
A few practical shifts helped me separate attraction from shame:
- Say “I have a crush on her” without adding a disclaimer about past relationships.
- Notice whether a joke is helping me feel playful or hiding genuine discomfort.
- Treat bisexuality as a present identity rather than a prediction about future partners.
- Remember that celebrity attraction does not grant access to the person being admired.
- Let changing or mixed feelings exist without treating them as evidence of dishonesty.
I also became more selective about whose reactions deserved my energy. A trusted friend might respond with warmth, while someone committed to mocking bisexuality could turn any disclosure into an argument. I do not owe every person a detailed explanation of my sexuality. Privacy and shame are different things.
Personal growth can look surprisingly mundane. It may be typing a message without deleting the woman’s name, watching a film without pretending the female lead is “just gorgeous”, or allowing a bisexual character to be part of my identification rather than a debate. Those small choices build a more durable sense of self than a perfectly worded public statement.
What I Choose to Say Now
There is a difference between being open and being available for scrutiny. I can talk about attraction while keeping my private life private. I can enjoy a celebrity’s style, talent, or beauty without claiming that my response is a political performance. I can also acknowledge that my feelings are shaped by media industries that package beauty and desirability for public consumption.
When I look back at old conversations, I feel tenderness for the person who kept apologising. She was trying to avoid rejection with the tools she had. Shame often disguises itself as politeness, and I had mistaken self-erasure for consideration. The answer was never to become careless with other people’s boundaries; it was to stop treating my own identity as an inconvenience.
This is the distinction I now keep close:
| Old habit |
More honest approach |
| Apologising for finding a woman attractive |
Naming the attraction without a disclaimer |
| Using dating history as proof of bisexuality |
Understanding bisexuality as a valid present identity |
| Treating a crush as a public announcement |
Letting it be a feeling, not a demand |
| Expecting jokes to make everyone comfortable |
Choosing trusted people for vulnerable conversations |
| Assuming uncertainty means I am confused |
Allowing attraction to be varied and fluid |
I have learned plenty about myself through apparently random details, and random facts about me can hold more truth than a polished identity statement. The same is true of a crush. It may reveal what I find beautiful, what kind of confidence draws me in, or which stories make me feel recognised. It does not need to become evidence in a case against me.
A celebrity crush is a small feeling, but the shame attached to it can point towards much larger cultural expectations. I no longer want to make my bisexuality easier for other people by making it smaller for myself. The practical takeaway is simple: name the attraction honestly, respect the real person’s boundaries, and leave the apology out when no harm has been done.
