I had a "date" yesterday with a perfectly good straight boy (divorced) and his 11 year old daughter. We went to see "Happy Feet" after which Mr. Y invited me to his place for a home-cooked meal with he and his child.
I have the kind of face that people like to open up to. Mr. Y likes to confide in me (and, indeed, I like it when he does). The 11 year-old and I totally relate. We read the same novels (the "Eragon" series). Mr. Y can't get over how I relate to kids.
Mr. Y is not the first str8 boy in my life, nor will he probably be the last. I have had a succession of str8 boyz in my life, stretching back to my navy days, who love to emote with me and wind up putting me in the very, very uncomfortable position of having to decide when it would be an "opportune time" to casually mention that I'm gay.
I hate this. It makes me very uncomfortable. Not always, but only if I find them attractive. Because then I wonder, "Have I waited too long? Does that look suspicious on my part? Does it imply ulterior motives?
I never have this problem with people I'm not attracted to. I never have a problem blurting out that I'm gay if I don't feel there might be consequences to be suffered for it. It's only when I fear losing that intimacy that I fear coming out.
It's all about my feelings of rejection from childhood, of course. I know that now. It's silly. These people aren't THOSE people!!! Are they? Yet all those feelings of angst and nausea and, well, FEAR, come roaring back the minute I feel as though I HAVE to tell them this one thing about myself. I don't have those same feelings over blurting out that I'm Catholic, or Irish/Welsh/English/Scots. I don't agonize over revealing that I prefer Streisand to Madonna.
You'd think that in this day and age, revealing that one is gay wouldn't be such a big deal. Yet I feel it IS a big deal because, well, because they've opened themselves up to me, made themselves vulnerable and, by revealing that I'm gay to them, they might feel somehow threatened by that.
Silly, isn't it?
I'm off to Manhattan today for a day of hairstyling and B'way Shows (matinee: "The Drowsy Chaperone", evening: "The Little Dog Laughed"). I'm glad to have this period of "enforced" separation from Mr. Y. It'll give me a chance to think about this and to discuss it with my old college roommate. We're having dinner this afternoon. He's always good for bad advice, having successfully avoided having a loving relationship for at least 30 years.
But I'll be back tomorrow. And I'll just suck it up, grab Mr. Y by the nape of the neck, drag him off into some corner, and tell him that I'm gay.
Or, maybe I'll wait until Sunday.