I’m gay. This is the term I’m comfortable with. Queer works too. Labels make me uncomfortable, but I’m also a writer, so words make me comfortable. I want to express who I am with words, but also I hate being defined because the moment labels enter there’s connotation, expectation, stereotypes, and all that jazz.
The labels for my sexual identity have shifted drastically over the years. The first label I ever tried on was gay. It’s also the most recent one I’ve been wearing. I never told anyone when I wrote “I think I’m gay” in my diary at twelve before burning it because privacy didn’t exist in my childhood home. In recent years, I’ve used pansexual because it feels inclusive of my past. I have only ever been in relationships with men. I’m not mad about it because those men have made me who I am today. For the good and the bad. Some of them literally saved my life. I am trauma bound to all men and yet one specific man for so many reasons. In my adulthood, I have had amazing taste in men. They are going to go on and be fantastic partners to hopefully equally incredible women. I’m not that woman. If I could be, I would. But I’m not. Those relationships didn’t work for a lot of reasons. Very valid reasons. Some incredibly painful reasons. Even if those relationships were perfect—not that there is such a thing—I would have left eventually.
There’s one man I truly imagined a future with. But it was one of those very hazy, hypothetical, willing it to happen imaginings. We talked about all of the possible futures we could have. Engagement, wedding, marriage, children, retirement. Amazing human. Just the best. It would have been an amazing adventure of a life. But even in the absolute height of being in love with him, something deep inside told me it wasn’t quite right. I always brushed it away because being in love doesn’t usually go hand in hand with rationality. I never gave voice to the internal unease. I never told him or anyone my feelings; I’m incredibly private to begin with, but if I said it out loud or even thought it, then it would be real. He and I would never end up together. At one point the idea of not being with him was soul crushing. The bond we shared because of trauma and just a decade of history has made it so hard to let go of that hazy imagining no matter how much I needed to for myself and him. There was a bigger reason I always knew it wouldn’t work. Even very recently, I didn’t want to confront it. I was trying to force false realities into truths, make my life fit his, and create hypothetical worlds where my gayness could exist in tandem with a straight life. I tried and tried and could never make myself see the house, the kids, the full life with him. So I said I didn’t want those things. Convinced myself I didn’t in the hopes that he wouldn’t want me. Because it was easier to completely cancel that future with him and everyone than admit the reality. I was pushing away my reality, my dreams, and ultimately my identity because I loved him so deeply, knowing it wouldn’t work in the furthest corners of my soul. In a way, I don’t. I don’t want those things…. with a man. But with a wife. It doesn’t feel like a terrifying trap.
This is not a reflection on him. He will be an amazing father and husband, but not with me. It is also not a reflection on how I feel about being gay. I am so proud to be gay. It is not an identity I have hid from, but it is an identity that has hid behind love, trauma, abuse, and survival. Now I exist in a safe and settled home where I can be all of the things that I am all at once.
I am so gay.
Writing has always been equal parts cathartic and painful. Finally writing these things down. Owning the fact that I don’t want a heterosexual future. I don’t want to marry a man. I don’t want to have children with a man. I don’t want to raise a family and grow old with a man. It is all so relieving to admit. Before it was: I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to have children. I don’t want to grow old with anyone. I have no fucking clue what the future has to hold. I may never have any of these things. But I know if I get married, have children, and grow old in a romantic relationship it will be with a woman. I may not actively pursue these things right now or ever, but oh my god, it feels like something I may actually want one day. As I type, I can actually feel my heart loosen its grip on the things it held on to so fiercely out of love, loyalty, and self-preservation.
One day, I will probably be comfortable with the label: lesbian. It’s accurate. Or at least the closest thing to accurate. (I would try dick again with Taron Egerton. He is a phenom and a gift to the world, but even him… I just don’t see it working out long term. Sorry Taron. I know there’s a real chance there. *eye roll*) I’ve been saying “No new dick.” for over a year. The truth is… no dick. I don’t want dick. I want a woman. Wearing lesbian on my sleeve feels like an erasure of the awesome men in my life, past, and ultimately the love I once had. Intellectually, this does not make any sense at all. I’m aware. There are lots of lesbians who once loved men, were in relationships with men, had children with men, so on and so forth. What makes sense and makes me comfortable do not always have to be in alignment. Acknowledging the dissonance right now works for me.
Identity is always shifting; although, I’m never shifting straight. That’s just a big nope. Ten years ago, I was telling people I was attracted to women. Five years ago, I was telling people I wasn’t straight while in a straight passing relationship. Three years ago, I was proudly pan. They’ve all tasted strange in my mouth and in my heart. A year and a half ago, I tried on queer, which I very much like. It’s been in the last year that I started using gay, which is short and sweet. I like it. I like the way it catches people off guard. I like the way it makes me feel. I like that it’s a synonym for happy. It may always be my preferred identifier; it may not. I know one day I will take on lesbian. Maybe next month. Maybe after I have 2.5 children and a white picket fence with a woman I have yet to meet. Maybe before I die completely alone. The future is all up in the air at this point in time.
BUT AT LEAST I WON’T DIE STRAIGHT.
