Blonde or dark, sporty or nerdy, broad or petite? However youâd describe your type, gender would be an expected part of that list. Your sexual attraction summarised into one convenient little word and neatly folded away like a pair of socks: men, women or, at its messiest, bi.
Only, is anyoneâs sock drawer ever neat? Maybe Marie Kondoâs. But aside from the worldâs no.1 tidiness guru, our socks â like our sex â are a complicated tangle, sometimes with holes in unexpected places and joined in pairs that donât look like any others. Proof? When YouGov asked 18-24 year olds to place themselves on the Kinsey Scale â a sexuality measure where 0 is exclusively heterosexual and 6 exclusively homosexual â almost half (43%) said they fell somewhere between 1 and 5.
Then there are Tinder users swinging â well, swiping â both ways. Straight women attending all-female play parties or âskirt clubsâ, where they can kiss/ touch/ pleasure other curious women. And the men signed up to BRO, a meet-up app for guys â including straight men interested in male sex. Just three examples of modern sexual behaviours that make traditional labels feel like something only your gran would use. As Lily-Rose Depp recently told NYLON, âSo many kids these days are not labelling their sexuality and I think thatâs so cool. Just like food, you could think peanut butter is your favourite food for 5,000 years and then be like, âI actually like burgers betterâ.â
Thanks to other label-resistant celebrities, such as Miley, Cara and Kristen, âsexual fluidityâ â attraction that disregards gender, sexual orientation or your previous sexual choices â has done for millennial sexual freedom what the 'rabbit' sex toy did for late-90sâ orgasms. âI think more and more people are adopting it out of frustration,â shares Anna, 31. âWeâre told that sexuality is an entirely static trait that wonât change as we age â even though all our other characteristics, from music taste to confidence, do. My desires at 16 or 20 or 25 were so different to my desires at 31, but you feel lost when your sexuality isnât constant like the answer to a maths question.â For reassurance, 63% of Glamour.com readers believe that sexual orientation definitely can change.
But the meaning of being fluid is, well, just that. For some, itâs an attempt to define the indefinable. âI don't even really understand my sexuality,â admits Louise, 26. âI get pressure from lesbian and straight friends to decide, but a million things come to mind before the gender of the people Iâm attracted to.â For others, itâs about the variety of sex involved: âMy idea of sexual fluidity is being able to switch back and forth between less vanilla activities (role play, restraints, threesomes) and the ânormâ of missionary,â describes Beth, 29. While for Victoria, 24, fluidity is simply enjoying sex for sexâs sake. âSome people just like to have sex,â she laughs. âItâs not about sexual orientation, itâs about enjoying hook-up culture â whoever that might be with.â
And this is the crux of fluidity: itâs about exposing sexâs complexity. Itâs about doing sex your way. Once, women were pressured into fluidity in order to service menâs desires: kissing another girl in a club, being the âcool girlâ who goes to strip clubs. Today, you can be as fluid â or as rigid â as you like.
Any sexual label, should you choose to wear one, is entirely your own.
Have a sex question or topic you'd like to know more about? Gemma would love to hear from you. Email her at glamoursexeditor@condenast.co.uk.

