Coming Out and Writing

[apple_pathways]

So, originalfic_las, a Last Author Standing competition for writers of original fiction, has started. The prompt for the first challenge is "change". I was hoping for something a little more detailed, but I can work with this. I'm getting a few ideas rattling around my brain, I'm just waiting for them the gel into something writable.

ETA: I meant to mention that if you wanted to sign up for this challenge, you still have until Wednesday to do so!

I just want to make it through the first few rounds, get some idea of where I stand and what I'm up against, and then who knows? I'll blunt my ambitions until I have a better feel for the competition.

I know a couple folks from my flist (like lovely ladylovelace) are signed up for the competition--holla back if you're one of them so we can commisserate and cheer each other on!

I'm also in the midst of writing something for she_is_to_me's latest challenge. It's an AU challenge, and I'm REALLY excited about my idea, but I still don't know exactly where I'm going with the story. I also have to write my entry for the dark!fic challenge at thegameison_sh. It's amazing how these commitments tend to snowball, isn't it?

And now, in honor of National Coming Out Day (October 11 in the US, 12 October in the UK), here is my coming out story:



This entry was posted on April 5, 2005; the events in question took place a few months before that.

My mother is really into jewelry and gem stones. She spends a good deal of her free time searching EBay and watching Jewelry Television looking for bargains. Some of the jewelry she re-sells for a profit, some of it she gives as gifts, and some of it she keeps for herself. There’s always a steady stream of jewelry running through our house.

So I was at home for a visit, and she was sharing with me some of her recent purchases. I oohed and aahed with her over the collection of gemstones and chains when we finally came to a pendant of a cross set with diamond chips. "Isn't it pretty?" she asks.

"Beautiful," I agree.

"I was thinking of how it would look beautiful with a wedding dress, but I know you'd never wear it."

At this point I figure she's gearing up for another argument about me being an atheist. She likes to do that every now and again, if she feels we've been getting along too well and she wants to introduce some tension in our relationship. I happen to be sick of this particular debate, and have passed the 'agree to disagree' phase long ago. So I decide that, instead of having this same boring argument we've had a million times, I'm going to head her off at the pass and introduce a new topic for us to fight about.

"No," I say, "And besides, I'm never getting married."

You see, it was around this time that I'd started having political feelings about marriage: it's discriminatory against gays and lesbians, as well as un-married parents and partners who are co-habitating, the government shouldn't be allowed to legislate who can build a life together, etc. I'm all set to explain this to her when she fixes me with a funny look and says, "Oh. I think I know why."

Now this is interesting. I can think of plenty of reasons why someone else would think I’m not the marrying sort (my fiercely independent nature, my lackluster dating history, my general inability to get along with the opposite sex for any extended period of time, etc.) but my mother has always been one to ignore these negative traits and press on with cheerful delusions of wedding dresses and grandchildren.

I sort of half-smile and give her a look. "Why?" I ask.

"You tell me why," she counters.

"No," I insist, incredibly curious now, "I want to hear why you think I'm never getting married."

There are tears forming in her eyes when she looks at me and almost whispers, "Because you're gay."

Now, I know that laughter is an inappropriate response to the emotional moment she's experiencing, but I really can't help myself. She's not the first person to mistake me for a lesbian, so it doesn’t come as that big of a shock. What I found hilarious was that this is a direct result of something my mother is always doing: obsessing about misinterpreted cues from those around her and overreacting to create an exaggerated sense of their importance. The fact that this habit of hers has finally come back to bite her in the ass is just too wonderful.

"Mom," I say between giggles, "I'm not a lesbian."

"Oh God!" she exclaims. She's really starting to cry now. "I'm so sorry! I've offended you!"

"No, Mom," I assure her, "you haven't offended me. I don't think it's offensive to be gay."

"Well, neither do I!" she says, "I was just thinking of how hard it would be for you. Don't you have a friend who's gay, and isn't it hard for him?"

First of all, I have about 50 friends who are gay. I am, as one of them has dubbed me, a 'fruit fly.' Secondly, yes, it most certainly is difficult in many ways for them, but not as difficult as pretending to be someone they’re not.

While I'm pondering this, she says something even more odd. "Don't tell your father!"

Don't tell my father what? I think. Don't tell him that I'm not a lesbian, or that you thought I was one?

I leave that conundrum alone, and move onto another issue. "Why did you think I was gay?" I'm expecting her to cite my refusal to wear lipstick to family gatherings, or the fact that I've never introduced her to a boyfriend, or even my staunch and extremely vocal defense of gay rights, but once again she manages to surprise me.

"You never talk about boys, it just seems that you're always hanging out with your girlfriends."

This gives me pause. Is it really that odd for a woman to have mostly female friends? Does she imagine we're having big girly orgies, or naked tickle fights with each other? I wonder which one of my friends she thinks I’m dating. I should have asked her that. I'm sure Kelly, or Jessica, or Fai, or whichever one of them she picked would have been amused to hear it.

I asked her how long she'd been thinking I was gay, and she said, "only for the last year or so." Only for the last year or so! It's incredibly amusing that she thought I was a lesbian for an entire year and never mentioned it. Finally, an issue in my life she's not willing to stick her nose into!

Anyway, I got everything straightened out (get it?) with her, and after that I made more of a conscious effort to discuss my dating life (whatever little of it there is) and my dealings with boys with her. Just to reassure her that not only am I not a lesbian, I'm not completely asexual either. The downside of this is that she now bothers me constantly about it. Every boy I mention, she wants to know why I'm not marrying him. I wonder if it's too late to go back to being a lesbian?





Truth be told, I'm not completely straight, but since appropriative faux-bisexuality is en vogue right now (and a bit annoying), I don't make a big deal about it. But that's a story for another day. ;)

Comments

[rachel2205.livejournal.com]

lol! My dad asked my brother if he was gay when Dom was in his late teens... Dom was all "...what?" But actually we think it's kinda cool that my dad - who is not at ALL good about discussing feelings or whatever - decided to broach it with Dom. He had decided Dom might be gay because Dom spent much of his teen years being super emotional and ANGRY. Which apparently translated to maybe gay in my dad's mind?

Sometimes I wonder if I hadn't been in a series of relationships from my teens onward - I have been a serial monogamist - if I might have been less straight. Certainly I would term myself as heteroflexible. I think sexuality is very complex, and whilst a large part is innate, I do think some is socially learned and we can move back and forth along the spectrum during our lives. If I hadn't spent most of my life dating men, maybe I would have been interested in more women. I'm a lot more in touch with the side of myself that can find women attractive, though I don't think I'd identify as bi.

[apple-pathways.livejournal.com]

Yes, teen angst is almost always a sign of homosexuality! Your poor brother. But like you said, at least your dad was up to the conversation!

For me, relationships and romance have never been an important part of my life. I've dated people, but I've never had a serious boyfriend (or girlfriend). I was a ridiculously shy and awkward child, and didn't start coming out of my shell until my late teens. It took me forever to even think of myself as a sexual person! My first couple years at university, I was notorious for being completely oblivious to male attention: I'd have no idea a guy was flirting with me until his tongue was in my mouth. (And then I'd make some lame excuse and run off to my friends.)

Romantic relationships are usually the last thing on my mind. I think if I'd been a more open person, and more flirtatious, I might have acted more on my attraction to women.

If I identify as anything, it's "mostly straight". One of these days I'll get around to writing a little essay about all the blemishes on my record of staunch heterosexuality. ;)

[rachel2205.livejournal.com]

Haha, I look forward to hearing about the blemishes. ;)

I am a very flirtatious person, and I flirt with really ANYONE who is a fun person and responds to my charming ways XD I get a lot out of it whether they're male, female, straight, gay, whatever. I've kissed quite a lot of girls but not really done more than that with them... But it was fun!