sex, sex, sex (what else is new?)
Sep. 8th, 2002 02:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hiddenmuseNot everyone knows about my sexuality. My family doesn't know, co-workers don't know, people I go to church with don't know. It's probably better that way.
My family would disown me. My employer would fire me - as it's still possible to discriminate against people for their sexual orientation. My church would have me excommunicated immediately. Those are things I don't want to deal with, and thankfully, people around me understand, and don't pressure me about coming out to the world.
Church and employer you can understand severing ties with me - but family you don't understand, you say? I'll explain it:
I didn't realize that I was "different" (as I thought of it) until I was almost out of high school. I didn't get a chance to really discover whether or not I was truly different until college (as is sometimes the case for many girls).
My parents sensed that something was going on, but they didn't have any real concrete evidence until they'd intercepted a letter I wanted mailed to my girlfriend at the time. Then, they intercepted another bit of correspondence from someone - which had my mom asking me if I was "turning funny on them", as though I were deli meat or something. I sat there and cried as I admitted that yes, I thought I might be gay. I was told that they didn't tolerate this kind of thing, that they'd still love me, but wouldn't want me bringing a girlfriend around. (Basically, coming perilously close to disownment) I was banned from staying overnight with any female friends - because they couldn't trust me anymore. My dad was blamed for my sexuality - because he'd abandoned the family and all. My lesbian friends were accused of having corrupted me somehow - that it was their fault that I would "choose" to be a part of that "lifestyle".
By the fall, I wasn't seeing anyone, and when I was interested in dating, I was looking for a boyfriend. Not as a "beard" (a term used to describe a guy that a lesbian is seen in public with, to disguise her sexuality), per se, but as someone to actually date and have an involvement with. I told my mom that I must've been going through a bit of confusion, a phase or something - essentially de-dyking myself. They were glad to hear that I wasn't gay, and said that their trust in me was still going to be a bit shaky for a while - and that if I did get involved with a guy, they didn't want me to go very far with him or anything.
Unfortunately, the guy I chose to go out with ended up being a first-class asshole. He was only interested in me for sex, was emotionally and verbally abusive, cheated on me ... and I was oblivious to it. In my mind, I was happy that someone wanted to date me, my self-esteem having been kicked to the curb so often by others growing up - I was willing to accept someone treating me like this, because it was attention. I didn't realize that I was being abused until the relationship had ended. Once my mind was cleared, I became painfully aware of things I took to being his "sarcasm" were actually his jabs at me, or others around him. He'd be incredibly rude and assholian to his mom, sister, and as I'd find out - other girlfriends. Nothing was ever good enough for him. He told me that he was glad he didn't fuck me, because he was "afraid that I'd become insatiable". (As though *that* would be a bad thing?!?)
I made the mistake of getting into another relationship about 2 months after that one ended. It was a typical rebound relationship - very quick everything. Rush into sex, get engaged 4 months into the relationship because we thought we were in love, break off the engagement 6 months later, when reality surfaced, and we were getting into major disagreements over things like whether or not to have children (I was starting to reach a point where I wanted them - he was adamant against having kids, but equally adamant about not getting a vasectomy, because he was "afraid of the pain"), where to live (I wanted us to have a place of our own, he wanted to buy his mom's place - where he lived at the time - and we'd live there) ... eventually, it got to where he said, "let's not get married. We can just live together." I wasn't going to do that, I don't feel comfortable with the idea of living with someone like that. The engagement broke off, as you could guess. For several months, people asked me about it, and I had to tell them that the engagement broke off due to personal differences. Better to have it end before it started, you know?
About a month later, I'd gotten together with a guy friend. Someone that I'd had some feelings for - and he'd returned the feeling. We hooked up one Saturday afternoon, and discovered that our expectations of each other sexually were over-inflated. And that communicating preferences is a very good idea. After that day in June 1997, I came to realize that I was having sex for the entirely wrong reasons. And that began a long spell of celibacy for me.
In the interim, I had my eye on guys, but never really dated anyone. Maybe it was an aura of desperation ... or perhaps I had grown geniunely uninterested in dating anyone, uninterested in sex.
I didn't think much of my sexuality, considering myself to be "sexual" - because I didn't think I was full-on heterosexual, but I couldn't see myself in a relationship of any sort with a girl. Boy, did that idea get knocked on its ass last fall.
Right about the time I was openly saying that I didn't see myself getting into a relationship of any kind with a girl - outside of maybe something purely physical - I met Nicole, and dated her for a little while. Even though she had a boyfriend, and I was in effect, taking part in some warped version of "Henry and June" where Anaïs Nin had nothing to do with Henry Miller. That relationship was quite short-lived, and I haven't talked to Nicole in several months now - maybe it's best that way.
I've been dating Kellie for a while now (I'm horrible with dates and couldn't tell you when exactly we became involved ... talk about a bad girlfriend!!), and I'm happy. I don't see myself settling into some forever thing (there's my fear of committment right there), and I'm taking things day by day - because right now, that's how it's easiest for me to take them.
And before you get the idea that my crush on Steven Page is about as genuine as Rosie O'Donnell's crush on Tom Cruise ... guess again. Unlike her, I'm not using a celebrity crush as a front, running around being all swanny and fan-girl in public while being 'Pussy Exclusive' in private. Oh no ... I'd take him if I could (yeah, like I'd go in and be a homewrecker ... upending someone's happy home and marriage. Riiiggghhhttt) - and I'd want my gal to be there, too. Not for some pervy voyeuristic "watch the lesbians get it on" thing either. I'll spare the details, except to say that we both like Steve. A lot. >:) Just that I may like him more than she likes him ... hehe.
My family would disown me. My employer would fire me - as it's still possible to discriminate against people for their sexual orientation. My church would have me excommunicated immediately. Those are things I don't want to deal with, and thankfully, people around me understand, and don't pressure me about coming out to the world.
Church and employer you can understand severing ties with me - but family you don't understand, you say? I'll explain it:
I didn't realize that I was "different" (as I thought of it) until I was almost out of high school. I didn't get a chance to really discover whether or not I was truly different until college (as is sometimes the case for many girls).
My parents sensed that something was going on, but they didn't have any real concrete evidence until they'd intercepted a letter I wanted mailed to my girlfriend at the time. Then, they intercepted another bit of correspondence from someone - which had my mom asking me if I was "turning funny on them", as though I were deli meat or something. I sat there and cried as I admitted that yes, I thought I might be gay. I was told that they didn't tolerate this kind of thing, that they'd still love me, but wouldn't want me bringing a girlfriend around. (Basically, coming perilously close to disownment) I was banned from staying overnight with any female friends - because they couldn't trust me anymore. My dad was blamed for my sexuality - because he'd abandoned the family and all. My lesbian friends were accused of having corrupted me somehow - that it was their fault that I would "choose" to be a part of that "lifestyle".
By the fall, I wasn't seeing anyone, and when I was interested in dating, I was looking for a boyfriend. Not as a "beard" (a term used to describe a guy that a lesbian is seen in public with, to disguise her sexuality), per se, but as someone to actually date and have an involvement with. I told my mom that I must've been going through a bit of confusion, a phase or something - essentially de-dyking myself. They were glad to hear that I wasn't gay, and said that their trust in me was still going to be a bit shaky for a while - and that if I did get involved with a guy, they didn't want me to go very far with him or anything.
Unfortunately, the guy I chose to go out with ended up being a first-class asshole. He was only interested in me for sex, was emotionally and verbally abusive, cheated on me ... and I was oblivious to it. In my mind, I was happy that someone wanted to date me, my self-esteem having been kicked to the curb so often by others growing up - I was willing to accept someone treating me like this, because it was attention. I didn't realize that I was being abused until the relationship had ended. Once my mind was cleared, I became painfully aware of things I took to being his "sarcasm" were actually his jabs at me, or others around him. He'd be incredibly rude and assholian to his mom, sister, and as I'd find out - other girlfriends. Nothing was ever good enough for him. He told me that he was glad he didn't fuck me, because he was "afraid that I'd become insatiable". (As though *that* would be a bad thing?!?)
I made the mistake of getting into another relationship about 2 months after that one ended. It was a typical rebound relationship - very quick everything. Rush into sex, get engaged 4 months into the relationship because we thought we were in love, break off the engagement 6 months later, when reality surfaced, and we were getting into major disagreements over things like whether or not to have children (I was starting to reach a point where I wanted them - he was adamant against having kids, but equally adamant about not getting a vasectomy, because he was "afraid of the pain"), where to live (I wanted us to have a place of our own, he wanted to buy his mom's place - where he lived at the time - and we'd live there) ... eventually, it got to where he said, "let's not get married. We can just live together." I wasn't going to do that, I don't feel comfortable with the idea of living with someone like that. The engagement broke off, as you could guess. For several months, people asked me about it, and I had to tell them that the engagement broke off due to personal differences. Better to have it end before it started, you know?
About a month later, I'd gotten together with a guy friend. Someone that I'd had some feelings for - and he'd returned the feeling. We hooked up one Saturday afternoon, and discovered that our expectations of each other sexually were over-inflated. And that communicating preferences is a very good idea. After that day in June 1997, I came to realize that I was having sex for the entirely wrong reasons. And that began a long spell of celibacy for me.
In the interim, I had my eye on guys, but never really dated anyone. Maybe it was an aura of desperation ... or perhaps I had grown geniunely uninterested in dating anyone, uninterested in sex.
I didn't think much of my sexuality, considering myself to be "sexual" - because I didn't think I was full-on heterosexual, but I couldn't see myself in a relationship of any sort with a girl. Boy, did that idea get knocked on its ass last fall.
Right about the time I was openly saying that I didn't see myself getting into a relationship of any kind with a girl - outside of maybe something purely physical - I met Nicole, and dated her for a little while. Even though she had a boyfriend, and I was in effect, taking part in some warped version of "Henry and June" where Anaïs Nin had nothing to do with Henry Miller. That relationship was quite short-lived, and I haven't talked to Nicole in several months now - maybe it's best that way.
I've been dating Kellie for a while now (I'm horrible with dates and couldn't tell you when exactly we became involved ... talk about a bad girlfriend!!), and I'm happy. I don't see myself settling into some forever thing (there's my fear of committment right there), and I'm taking things day by day - because right now, that's how it's easiest for me to take them.
And before you get the idea that my crush on Steven Page is about as genuine as Rosie O'Donnell's crush on Tom Cruise ... guess again. Unlike her, I'm not using a celebrity crush as a front, running around being all swanny and fan-girl in public while being 'Pussy Exclusive' in private. Oh no ... I'd take him if I could (yeah, like I'd go in and be a homewrecker ... upending someone's happy home and marriage. Riiiggghhhttt) - and I'd want my gal to be there, too. Not for some pervy voyeuristic "watch the lesbians get it on" thing either. I'll spare the details, except to say that we both like Steve. A lot. >:) Just that I may like him more than she likes him ... hehe.
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no subject
Date: 2002-09-08 04:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-09-09 04:36 am (UTC)And I wish you well!!!
no subject
Date: 2002-09-09 10:51 pm (UTC)