FRIDAY OPEN THREAD: When Did You First Know You Were Gay?

Hey there rockstars, you made it to the end of another week! I am so proud of you!! Not all weeks are easy to make it to the end of, you know? But, you did it! You are here! I am ready to celebrate you!

While we’re here together, celebrating and getting to know each other, I’d love to ask you a fun question: Looking back on it, when should you have first known know you were gay?

Last week I had the unbelievable good fortune of going out to a bar with our very own Valerie Anne and Heather Hogan! We drank good craft beers and laughed at our our pre-gay selves. Did you know that my high school boyfriend was a “sensitive” theatre geek, like me, who also grew up to be gay? Well, now you do! We used to go to Rocky Horror Picture Show every month! We both painted our nails. We sang RENT’s soundtrack at the top of our lungs while hanging out in his car after school! HA! And now I know why!

Sometimes we like to think of our “coming out” in terms of “before” and “after” – and I get it! It’s linear, and easy to digest. Today I want to talk about something a little messier: What are those times in the “before” that are now completely different than how we first remember them? What are the funny stories of your pre-gay childhood? Your complicated college years? Were you like Emily Fields in Pretty Little Liars and loved Beyoncé a little too much in middle school? (Trick Question! There is no such thing as loving Beyoncé too much!) Were you smack dab in the middle of your high school’s softball team drama? Really, isn’t all “softball team drama” dyke drama anyway?

When I was a wee ‘tween, I loved Angelina Jolie. Lots of girls loved Angelina Jolie, but… ahem… not the way I did (wink wink). Gia Angelina Jolie. Girl, Interrupted Angelina Jolie. Everyone else was putting boy band posters on the wall, and I was daydreaming about Angelina’s pillowy lips! Of course I didn’t think anything of it at the time. All girls admire female celebrities and their Cosmo covers? Right? Riiiiiiight.

I’m not alone! Nearly a decade ago, Autostraddle ran a three part roundtable series, “When I Knew I Was Gay.” Our dear editors followed that gem up with, “Top Ten ‘90s Movies Beloved by Girls Who Turned Out Gay” (in case you were wondering, I ranked 7/10 on that little list. #NowAndThenFOREVER!). Last year, Kayla bared her soul with “The 25 Gayest Things I Did When I Still Thought I Was Straight” AND “The Gayest Friendship Fights I Had as a Closeted Baby Lesbian”!

“Logan was in the middle school yearbook club, and I was the editor in chief, so she would suck up to me in order to get good assignments. So I asked her to french braid my hair every day in yearbook class, and she did.” – Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya, girl this is so real.

Tell me! What are your most cherished, funny, awkward gay stories from before you knew you were gay? What’s that one moment you look back on, shake your head at your former self, and go “Ohhh, honey!”? Who were your secret crushes? Your favorite obviously gay movies? Friends that you desperately wanted to be more than friends with? SUPER GAY HOBBIES that you pretended weren’t gay at all?

I bet you have some great tales to spin! I can’t wait to laugh and cry and reminisce along with you!

Let’s keep the ball rolling! How was the rest of your week? Did you finally get that iced latte you’ve been craving? A hard day at work? Did you catch up on your sleep? Oh! Did you have a Reese’s Cup?? I love Reese’s Cups!

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My Life In Concerts, Or How I Realised I Loved Women With Guitars

I’ve been going to concerts and gigs since I was a kid- mainly because my mother felt it was important I was “cultured” and believed exposing me to live music was a brilliant way of nurturing my imagination and creativity. Because of this, I was lucky enough to never be one of those girls at school whose parents made sure all concerts were chaperoned by a parent who would stand in the moshpit with ear plugs and their arms folded, whacking away any elbow that came within a 4km radius of our angelic little heads.

As long as I was dropped off and picked up at least 100m from the gates of the venue, I was all good to go. Some of my earliest memories of concerts include Australian manufactured ‘Popstars’ group Bardot, who I got to meet after the show- except I was such a lanky teenager, I had to duck down in front of Sophie Monk and Belinda Chapple so that they could be seen in the photo, Kylie Minogue, whose extravaganza I witnessed through squinted eyes because I was too embarrassed to whip out my glasses- they didn’t match my faux leather mini-skirt and one shouldered fuchsia tank top, and Destiny’s Child, who were so dazzling I started hysterically screaming and crying during their opening number because I was just so excited and overwhelmed with it all.

Other highlights have included Christina Aguilera (when she was still her hot, slutty and pants-less alter ego, X-Tina) and Simple Plan, where I took my wrist cuffs, NOFX t-shirt and teenage angst and stood in line for hours before getting slammed up at the front of the moshpit (if you could call it that) and fainting. I ended up needing to be yanked to safety by a burly security guard and doused by plastic cups of water- all before the No Pads, No Helmets…Just Balls boys had even hit the stage.

More recently however, it has come to my attention that by documenting the gigs that I have attended over the last 10 years, the list could also read as a guide to my sexuality and the realisation that I am insanely attracted to women, especially ones with guitars. I have seen the following perform on one sticky stage or another in Sydney:

Tegan & Sara: Enough said.

Washington: Megan Washington is somebody I would like to take home to my mother. She twiddles about on stage in pretty dresses like a small fairy I found near my backyard pond and I just want to put her in my pocket and stroke her hair.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Karen O is a Goddess unlike no other. There are no words for her.

Crystal Castles: Alice Glass is so screamy and sexy, dripping in smudged mascara and leather, she makes you want to get so fucked up on drugs you forget your own name.

Little Birdy: “After Dark” was a song my ex and I would put on whenever the other wanted a little somethin’ somethin’. I once bought us tickets to a gig of hers and then as an added surprise, rolled up in a skirt without underwear. ‘After Dark’ was not required that night.

Florence & The Machine: I saw her perform at Splendour in the Grass last year and a few of my friends and I ended up being locked out of the front of the auditorium. There was no other option but to risk being thrown out of the entire festival by jumping not one, but two sets of fences. We ended up being chased by security, grabbing the tips of our hoodies but lost them in the crowd. It was worth it. She had that crowd eating out of the palms of her hands- she was the cult leader and we were her evangelists.

The Grates: Patience is like a newer, younger, less experienced Karen O. When she is thrashing about on stage, you cannot help but have a smile as big as the : D emoticon slapped across that ugly mug of yours.

An Horse: Despite there being some technical difficulties on the night of the show, there were enough lesbians in the crowd to make it feel as if you’d thrown your own house party, invited all of your closest friends and had somehow convinced An Horse to do a private show just for you.

Sarah Blasko: See ‘Washington’.

The Jezabels: My friends and I went from having Hayley, the lead singer, serve us beers at our local pub to drooling over her on stage. No one can pull off those high-wasted shiny American Apparel pants like Hayley.

Metric: Somebody once said that if I were to ever take my amazing (read: non-existent) vocal talents on the road, I’d look and act a little something like Emily Haines on stage. This is equally flattering and confusing. Flattering because she’s a mega babe and confusing because she’s a mega babe who I’d like to slip one to. Explain that one to me, Freud!

Warpaint: A band that contains that many attractive girls deserves to be mentioned. Also, Shannyn Sossamon was once a part of the group and that’s a reason in itself to mention the band. You can fuck me with an orchid all you want Shannyn and I won’t even be disappointed.

Regina Spektor: See ‘Washington’.

Katy Perry: Love or hate what she’s doing for the lesbian and gay community, my point is, she has a great rack.

And most recently, Kimbra: Those soft pillowy lips. Those bouncy curls. You’d croon me to sleep when I was too drunk to close my eyes wouldn’t you Kimbra? Wouldn’t you?

Did I mention that I saw Kylie, the Queen of the Gays, perform as a child? What chance did I have!

So how about you? Tell us about the concerts that made you realise.

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Special Note: Autostraddle’s “First Person” personal essays do not necessarily reflect the ideals of Autostraddle or its editors, nor do any First Person writers intend to speak on behalf of anyone other than themselves. First Person writers are simply speaking honestly from their own hearts.

When I Knew I Was a Boy

A while back, Autostraddle did a “When I Knew I Was a Lesbian/Bisexual/Queer/Girl Who Likes Girls” feature. And it was awesome. A lot of women had some really clear moments in time when they knew – they had “gay-iversaries.” Knowing I was a boy was WAY more roundabout for me.

I knew I was a boy when I was three years-old. Then I forgot. Or learned otherwise. By age four, I knew I was at least supposed to be a boy. Then I forgot that, too. Some years later, I knew I was not a stereotypical girl. At 16, I thought I was a lesbian. At 21 I knew I wasn’t.

And it was right around my 22nd birthday that I remembered I was a guy.

So we’ll take a quick jump through time to Sebastian circa 1991. The coolest kid in Montessori. Back then my name was Sarah. My best friend was Nick. I refused to wear pink. I didn’t understand the confusion when I stood in the boys’ line. I didn’t understand why Nick could pee standing up and I couldn’t (despite a few failed attempts). When we played house I was the older brother.

According to my queer studies and developmental psychology courses, children can differentiate between two genders (male and female) from a very young age and actually start to develop their own gender identity by age three or four. I essentially was developing as a typical male, in terms of identity formation. Except of course, I was female assigned at birth, had two X chromosomes, was physically developing as a typical female, and would be entering female puberty in 10 years.

I was a boy who people thought was a girl and I had all this figured out when I was three. But at such an impressionable age, it didn’t take much of people laughing and reminding me I was really a girl for me to get the picture.

Before long, me telling people I was “a boy on the inside” or that I was supposed to be a boy until “the man in my mom’s belly changed his mind at the last minute” were just cute stories about my childhood. My parents assumed I’d be a lesbian and taught me about stereotypes and how I could be “a girl who was like a boy.”

Until I hit puberty, I basically looked like a boy 65% of the time and got kicks out of shocked looks in the girls’ bathroom.

Post-puberty, I embraced my non-conformity and surprisingly moved through adolescence without much more awkwardness than the average teenager, though I was treated for anxiety and dysthymia. At 16, I realized I was attracted to women – my only light bulb moment in any of this; I was watching the scene in But I’m A Cheerleader when they sit Megan down and tell her that not everyone thinks that way about women. I think we both said, “I’m a homosexual” at the same time. It’s funny to look back at that moment (knowing what I know now) as me actually coming out as a heterosexual… my straight-iversary.

I never really identified as a lesbian – I couldn’t explain it, but I didn’t connect with that identity. I just talked about being attracted to women and squirmed when people referred to me with the l word.

When I went to college, I started to really struggle with my lack of a label that fit. I read Ellison’s Invisible Man and was pretty into stripping away the labels/expectations/identities that society and other people imposed on me and getting to my true core, and yet I was really lost and couldn’t quite get to that core. Some dark weeks and parental intervention later, I transferred to a women’s school in Western Mass and felt very much at home.

I was comfortable. I was an androgynous hipster DJ with sceneboy hair who successfully pursued straight girls and secretly thought heterosexual couples were cute.

One day a friend of mine asked me what I thought I was going to be like after college, “you know, when you can’t wear skinny jeans anymore and like settle down.” It really shook me. I couldn’t picture myself in the future at all. It wasn’t just that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life; I couldn’t even imagine what I would look like. I knew I wanted a family and a wife, but I couldn’t imagine my wedding. What would I wear to work? I despised looking “dykey” in a way that I could not yet communicate, but couldn’t escape it when I wore anything but skinny jeans and a tee.

When I was 21, I moved to Seattle for a summer. (Side note: Seattle is amazing. Go there.) I subleased a one-bedroom apartment without cable or Internet. I listened to a lot of KEXP and read a lot of Rumi (the real tenants had an awesome library). I wrote a lot, too. I knew one person in Seattle when I got there. I was in this queer bubble where no one had preconceived notions of who I was or who they wanted me to be. I had a tabula rasa. And I took advantage of it.

I bought my first binder, without being able to communicate why I wanted it. I started compressing my chest and it looked so right that I decided to take it a step further and I cut my hair short. I told my friend I was experimenting with “queering my gender” and we came up with a gender ambiguous name to use when we went out together. I’m not sure if people read me as male very often, but I wasn’t automatically assumed to be female and it felt really good and natural. I got this surge of excitement when someone said “sir” that reminded me of how I felt as a kid when waiters said “buddy” and people told me to use the boys’ bathroom.

So that’s when I knew I wasn’t female. Then I embarked on a three month obsession with the online trans community, watching youtube video after youtube video of trans guys’ physical transitions, silently studying my FTM friends, and learning that there are lots of different ways to be a guy, even to be a trans guy.

Suddenly, I could picture my future. I could picture myself in suits that fit me like they fit men. I pictured myself as a father. As Mr. Barr. For the first time, I had a vision of my future that I identified with, that seemed natural, and that I was excited about. That’s when I remembered I was a guy. And set off to do something about it.

(By the way, I no longer have to be treated for anxiety or dysthymia. How’s that for a feel-good ending?)

When You Knew You Were a Lesbian: Your True Stories & Tweets

When did you know you were a lesbian (or bisexual or queer or otherwised inclined)? We asked you to tell us in 140 characters or less and for those of you with longer stories to tell, we asked you to email wheniknew at gmail dotcom and tell us in 400 words or less how it all went down (get it? Going down? HAHAH!).

So here’s little bits of some of your stories and all of your tweets … you’re all very funny.

“when i wanted to be Eileen’s cello.” —@chattyxkathy

“Every year in college I’d see signs for Nat’l Coming Out Day, and look deep within my heart, and say, Nope, not yet” —@jamiealyse

“pretty much when i wanted xena and gabby together. and then of course, the first heavy non-innocent girl-crush”–@ally krawietz

“When I saw a woman kiss my friend and realized I was jealous. Weeks later, I kissed my friend and felt much better.” —@uppoppedafox

“when that viper marina kissed me in the bathroom at bette and tina’s lovely party.” from JENNIFER SCHECTER!

“I knew (fo sho) at the ripe age of 18, when I kissed a girl playing the drunk version of spin the bottle @ 4:00AM.” —@justjesh

(more…)

When Did You Know You Were a Gaymo? Sweet Stories of Lesbian Awakenings: Part 3

Welcome to Part Three of the “When I Knew I Was a Lesbian/Bisexual/Queer/Girl Who Likes Girls” Autostraddle Roundtable.

In Part One, our Associate Editor Laneia and Editor-in-Chief Riese shared their stories. In Part Two, we had confessions related to Brandi Chastain, The Spice Girls, kissing a girl and liking it, henna tattoos, gay pride, TATU and you know … kissing girls. Part Three will also blow your mind.

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When Did You Know You Were a Lesbian? Shocking Stories of Self-Discovery in the Roundtable Part 2

Welcome to Part Two of the “When I Knew I Was a Lesbian/Bisexual/Queer/Girl Who Likes Girls” Autostraddle Roundtable. Every week or two (or three) we pick a topic and solicit opinions/stories from our team and interns – and sometimes special guests. Previous topics have included Is There a Lesbian Generation Gap? (with special guests Grace the Spot, actress & singer Haviland Stillwell) and Will Adam Lambert be America’s First Gay Idol? (Sadly we now know the answer to the second question, but he’s still our idol obvs).

This week’s Roundtable idea was the brainchild of our TV Editor Carlytron and Photoblogger Robin, a.k.a. the cutest couple ever:

“What do you consider your “gay-iversary?” Everyone defines it differently. I’m sure some would say they’ve been gay since birth, others might say it was when they first kissed a girl, some would say it was when Brandi Chastain ripped her shirt off after kicking the winning goal in the Womens World Cup… To each her own. We were talking about it and think it would be really fun, maybe even get the interns involved? Also how many years people say they have been gay for, that’s cool to see. Who am I, Yoda?”

Before we get to our second round of stories — with special quotes from lesbian celebrities, writers and artists about when they knew — here’s how you can get in on the fun …

‘When I Knew I Was Gay’ Story Contest

What’s your “When I Knew” story? When was the moment — or one of the moments — when you realized you were queer/bi/lesbian/gay/special?

1. TWEET! If you’re on twitter, tweet @autostraddle with hash tag #wheniknew whenevs and as often as you’d like. On Saturday August 8th we’ll publish all your short clever “when I knew” tidbits, and if you’re lucky you might even see yours show up in our posts too! These are really funny/fun to read at work/unemployed!

AND/OR

2. STORY! E-mail wheniknew [at] autostraddle dot com with your story in 400 words or less. Deadline is Saturday August 8th at midnight EST, so think quick!

WHAT DO WE WIN?

On Monday we’ll announce three winners: our Favorite Tweet and we’ll randomly pick two other submissions. Remember how we said there were no more Really Papi t-shirts? Well, we just found two. So those will be included, as well as Clies Press’ Best Lesbian Erotica of 2009 and an Autowin tank-top & button for an Autowinner! Exact distribution is TBA.

In Part One, our Associate Editor Laneia pulled back the curtain of her interweb life to tell the truth about her family and Editor-in-Chief Riese remembered the summer of ’05 when the shit hit the fan. So on a lighter note … now onwards to Part Two!

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“When I Knew I Was Gay” #1: What Would Happen If One Woman Told The Truth About Her Life

Hey-o! Welcome to a Week of Gay-i-versaries! If this was an afternoon talk show you could all reach under your chairs right now and get a toaster, a koosh ball, a box of kleenex for all your wasted teenaged tears, a snack-pack of dental dams, The Lesbian Avengers Handbook and a copy of Tegan & Sara’s “The Con,” but alas it is not, and therefore instead you get our words, which are often lovely, and all we have.

Carlytron & Robin had this week’s brilliant Roundtable idea. This is how they described it:

“What do you consider your “gay-iversary?” Everyone defines it differently. I’m sure some would say they’ve been gay since birth, others might say it was when they first kissed a girl, some would say it was when Brandi Chastain ripped her shirt off after kicking the winning goal in the Womens World Cup… To each her own. We were talking about it and think it would be really fun, maybe even get the interns involved? Also how many years people say they have been gay for, that’s cool to see. Who am I, Yoda?”

If you think you have the cutest “When I Knew” story tweet it to @autostraddle with hash tag #wheniknew and you could win a prize and you will defo see your  name in lights on AS!

We’re gonna kick off with Riese & Laneia and roll out other stories as the week goes on — Riese picks one of many stories she’s attributed to being “that moment,” and Laneia decides to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth about the stuff she’s kept secret from the Internet … until right now.

[Tinkerbell would like to add that she loves everyone, a lot. Also — the photo for the feature graphic is stolen mercilessly from photographer Emma Neely.]

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Riese:

Oh I don’t know when it was. I’m a poster child for the self-aware & sexuality-confused. I’ve told this story repeatedly with a similar plot but different characters, different scenes, different motivations.

This straight girl I used to sleep with suggested that I lack typical childhood sexual revelation memories  ’cause I was forbidden to shut my door all the way (my Mom thought I’d fall & die and she’d be locked out), so I never felt safely “alone” enough to consider sex. I thought about unicorns a lot.

I’d assumed that the only reason people didn’t come out was ’cause they feared parental banishment. Therefore my logic went thusly: because I had an accepting family (my Mom came out herself when I was 15) but did not feel comfortable coming out, that must be because I was not gay. I grew up in a liberal town, after all. But still, dyke was a heavy insult, lesbians were ridiculed even by my allegedly enlightened peer group (if they didn’t like lesbians, then who would?) and bisexuality was a party game. Furthermore, there were about 10,000 confusing paradoxes battling within my major depressive disordered brain, obscuring truth even though as a smart girl I presumed my own self-awareness.

I’d assumed that the only reason people didn’t come out was ’cause they feared parental banishment. Therefore my logic went thusly: because I had an accepting family but did not feel comfortable coming out as gay, I must not be gay.

So when was it? It was: high school when I wanted her back but hadn’t expected to, when I first saw Shane on The L Word,  when I stopped looking in the mirror and seeing that bullied sweaty/needy girl who needed a boyfriend ’cause she’d heard it was the best band-aid on the market, when Heather made us see Naked Boys Singing and I got so grossed out by the penises, the first time a girl made feel crazy, the first time I made love to a woman I was in love with and knew it was Beyond, when I started dating girls that were actually my type, I could go on for pages & pages …

Here’s one version; about what happens when you realize you don’t even like yourself anymore and you might want to think about why that is.

It was 2005; the end of September, the week I lost all my friends.

[some names have been changed]

Krista, my Spanish Harlem roommate and best friend since high school, spends her summers working at theater camp so I’d had to get a subletter starting that June. The day she left I flung myself on our (platonically) shared bed and wept, much to my surprise. I’d been so fiercely independent for the past six months (No boyfriend to lean on was a big step for me!) and realized when she left that I hadn’t been, I’d just been codependent with my best friend; my “sister.”

But then the summer unfurled before me like a self-destructive rainbow. I’d be deliciously unsupervised. No-one around to hold me accountable, or to ask me to make a narrative connecting my established personality to my daily activities.

I started hanging out even more than I had been with random girls who liked girls that I met online, like Sara & Chloe.

A week after the Fourth of July I was tanned and buzzed in Salon, a trendy Meatpacking District club at a Bi-Chic CAKE party, and Sara was popping candy from her necklace into my mouth while girls wearing underwear the color of gumballs danced on tables; all bright blues & pinks & yellows. I went back and forth between making out with Sara and chatting up the bouncer, a model named Matty who I’d met while trying to get Sara’s friends into the bar. He turned out to live across the street from me. Bam. We had a thing that lasted a few days but became friends instead. He attributed this to me being “more than half a fag” which he reminded me I’d have to explain to Jesus on Judgment Day.

The summer was a roasted blur of parties, Matty’s giant car, alcohol, girls, numbness, vacancy; interspersed with cool afternoons reading manuscripts at the literary agency where I worked. I believe at this time I had no connection whatsoever to my actual heart or feelings. I labeled this detachment “not wanting a relationship.”

August descended; steamy streets, hot unbearable hair, lukewarm taxicabs. At Chloe’s, the window air conditioner hummed its faint relief as we did fat lines off the backsides of CD cases.  At Nation, we pushed through the crowds of girls we’d come to meet and slid into the bathroom where Chloe lifted her tiny powdered fingers to her nostrils and I drank vodka from a hip flask.

September arrived and all of these things were happening at once: Krista came back but our subletter hadn’t left yet. Chloe needed a new apartment, Sara lived in a big basement room in her apartment that Chloe moved right into. Like Krista and I were doing except that it was tearing us apart, and Sara and Chloe had been doing just the opposite in their shared bed —fucking, I guess.

Krista returned to find me in a state — to avoid feeling anything about girls, or girl-on-girl culture, it turned out I had to shut down altogether (like I’d learned to do ten years earlier when my Dad died), because it wasn’t just one part of me after all (though I didn’t see that then), it was me.

I spent time with people Krista hadn’t heard of & neglected loved ones who wanted to talk about real things, rather than just get fucked up & eat the night alive. Why was I so convinced these real friends would reject me? Why did I ignore that my new friends wanted to be real friends too, if only I’d give them a chance? I remembered in high school hearing two boys at the lunchtable next to me – one of whom I knew was hooking up with Krista daily at that point – talking shit about her being a lesbian, and how it scared me to hear people speak like that about that. When you’ve felt abnormal all your life but not known why, you look out for these signs & signals of how not to be normal, of what to avoid.

Krista & I fought ostensibly about who had to move to the back bedroom which was smaller and had no light/windows and why Matty was always over. We were actually fighting about fear and love.

By mid-September I was interning & working 60-hour weeks for almost no money at all. Days whizzed by in hazes of aggressive city & journalistic education & productivity & eagerness for what I knew was coming from the moment I woke up: the sweet oblivion of night.

I turned 24; Chloe & Sara made me a card, Krista and I had dinner where we cried & loved each other. My other best friend, Natalie, was preparing to move to London for two years.

By the end of September sometimes it’d be eleven or midnight I’d end up on the corner of 109th and Amsterdam with Chloe and we’d go upstairs to Mo’s to do coke & play darts until I thought I would scream and die.

But most nights I sat in Matty’s room, writing a novel about high school girls who followed their hearts. Matty didn’t know me, I was whoever I wanted to be, nothing was real. I met some of his Russian model girlfriends, slim blondes with attitudes like syringes.  I smoked a lot of pot which is one of many reasons why at first I didn’t notice Matty was having a psychotic break.

As his psychosis worsened I couldn’t get rid of him. I’d come home exhausted and Krista would be in Brooklyn with her boyfriend—and Matty would see my light on and scurry across the street immediately. He was making diagrams and pictures and while I wrote and he drew his plans for world takeover, on the television a hurricane was tearing through New Orleans where my brother lived (he was safe, in Atlanta) and Matty said, “If I lived there, I’d learn how to kite surf and just be like, see-yah motherfuckers!”

I realized I had been almost-dating both of them but hadn’t known it, or hadn’t noticed dating was on the table, like a second fork. Is that what all that making out meant?

All of this was not real, but especially Sara and Chloe, and all the girls I’d seen briefly that year and the year before who I’d stopped talking to because I couldn’t handle anything past a two or three night stand. Chloe & Sara were after-dinner mints, far away from the rough stuff in my own side of town.  Which is why when Sara came outside of their building and Chloe and I were on the steps stealing kisses, Sara went right back in, furious, and Chloe went after her but before she did, she said: “Just go home, Marie.  I have to take care of this, I’m sorry,” and I realized I hadn’t known before that moment that people were going to take care of other people in this game because caring was real.

Which is why, in the three-way IM fight that ensued while I was at work the next day, I realized I had been almost-dating both of them but hadn’t known it, or hadn’t noticed dating was on the table, like a second fork for a course I wasn’t interested in. Is that what all that making out meant? Did they consider me a real friend? They wanted honesty from me and I only knew character. I was too busy to think about it, really.

After I’d been kicked off Chloe & Sara’s stoop, in fact, I’d gone straight to my ex-boyfriend’s place down the block. He asked me if I was on drugs and I said I wasn’t even though I was, he told me I wasn’t gay at all even though I told him that I was, and he told me that if that’s the kind of lifestyle I wanted, he didn’t want to look at my face until I went back to men. So there went one friend down the drain.

And then I learned that Chloe & Sara were getting serious about each other, which blew my mind– that Sara was ready to take that step from bisexually-affiliated to having a girlfriend.

Which is when Matty smashed his computer because of the CIA chip inside it and then went to Central Park to find Osama Bin Laaden and didn’t come back for a long time.

Which is when Natalie moved to London.

Which is when Sara and Chloe decided it would be better for their relationship if both of them stopped speaking to me.

“Do you realize that once Natalie leaves—do you realize that I don’t have any friends right now?” I yelled at Krista because she was yelling at me.

She shot back, in a statement she has redacted and apologized for many times since, even though she was right: “Maybe you should think about why that is.”

+

“I think I liked Chloe, maybe,” I said to Natalie over dinner two days before she left for London. By this point my brain & heart were evacuated countries, no direction for miles. I wasn’t sure if I did like Chloe or if I just wanted to see how it felt to say those words out loud. I did and my whole body went warm and complacent like a pickle.

Natalie nodded like saying; yes, I think you did too. No shock?

So I continued: “It didn’t occur to me to even—think about liking her. Or to think about liking Sara, too, did I like her too? I didn’t think even to care, I mean, I knew ultimately I wouldn’t ever really date a girl.  So what was the point?”

“Really? Why wouldn’t you date a girl?” Natalie asked, earnestly like it was a question she didn’t already know the answer to. I remembered everyone ridiculing her bisexual friend Leslie, oh Natalie, Leslie has a crush on you, which is why I was scared to be Leslie’s friend (“You’re both bi!” Natalie had said. “You could talk about it!”) because I always felt like a weirdo and I just wanted to seem as normal as possible and not get made fun of. I wasn’t that kind of bi.

“Because of my Mom. I just can’t give her that,” I said because my mind had just realized that I’d accidentally put that wall up and not bothered to see the door in the wall I was free to walk through, and had been.

Natalie nodded again. “Well, Leslie is dating a girl now.”

“Wow, like, a girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Natalie said.  “Things are bad now—she’s like, Natalie. I love the hell out of this girl, and she’s breaking my heart again and again. I never thought I could even do this, and it’s killing me.”

“Just like we talked about guys,” I said, half-smiling, thinking of how pretty Leslie was and — oh my god! — brave.

“Just like that.”

Sara was doing it, Leslie was doing it, and I was a fucking coward.

For the next month or so, sans playmates, I wrote stories, worked, read every Mary Gaitskill book & read five books of coming out stories, Rubyfruit Jungle, et al, watched The L Word Seasons One & Two over and over, and helped Matty when he came back from Bellevue and his water was shut off, and started to make new friends, fix relationships with old ones, and tried to live as quickly as possible. Krista moved into the back bedroom but when her boyfriend wasn’t over, we’d still sleep together in the front room.

For the next few years I’d fuck up over and over before finally getting it anywhere close to right.

But first I said goodbye to Natalie after dinner, to her sweet heart that never stopped loving me, and she went home and there I was on a streetcorner with a face like a sidewalk. I put my music in my ears and got on the bus when it came, thinking about what might happen next while the wheels beneath me traveled madly through the darkness.

---

“What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life?
The world would split open.” –Muriel Rukeyser

Laneia:

I used to think I was the only person like me. It was just a truth that I had accepted from a very early age. I wasn’t ashamed of how I felt, but I didn’t know what to call it. To me, “gay” meant that you wanted to be the opposite sex. I know, that’s incredibly ignorant, but grew up in a tiny Southern town with two out lesbians who were both extremely butch & about 10 years older than me. I didn’t relate to the only lesbians I saw — well, I knew that I wanted to see pretty girls naked, but it never occurred to me that being “gay” would enable that.

This is what happened: in 2006, I watched an episode of The L Word and it was like being spun around in a vortex and dropped into a world that made perfect sense. Except at that time, I was living a life that didn’t seem to fit with this place I’d been dropped.

In my mind, I was trying on a personality, having some escapist fun in my spare time. No harm, no foul.

“I think I might be bisexual.” That’s what I’d told my best friend in 2001. She told me I was just confused and I believed her. Then I went home and fantasized about making out with her. Then a lifetime of things happened and it was 2006 and I watched lesbians love each other on teevee. Then I googled “Katherine Moennig The L Word” until 2 a.m., which was very, um, productive.

So you could say I came out to myself in early-ish 2006.

But I was stuck in my life and so this is what I did next: I started going online and eventually joined a community of girls online, first just talking The L Word. At first, it was almost like a made-up persona — not 100%, but I was leaving a lot of things out & exaggerating other things. In my mind, I was trying on a personality, having some escapist fun in my spare time. No harm, no foul.

Then, I gradually realized that the me I was pretending to be online was more honest than the me I was in my everyday life.

I kept a lot to myself and have continued to, until today.

Ready? Deep breath.

I knew I was a weirdo from outer space since forever, and I was super confused like you wouldn’t even believe. I didn’t have any sort of support or knowledge and it was like living in photobooth with a curtain I couldn’t open.

Smile!

1.. 2.. 3.. Smile!

For starters! In my everyday life I had a family. Yes!  Like, I had a husband. A real life husband. When I came out to him, he said, “I was waiting for this day to come.”

Okay, that’s one thing down, one more to go …

I know there are other women out there like me, and they feel just as left out as I do, and yet I sit. Making necklaces.

So, by the time I came out to him I was really starting to feel weird that I wasn’t being 100% honest with everyone I knew online, aside from my present girlfriend and a few of my closest friends there. I’ve felt conflicted about this since I first started blogging and being online; because I know there are other women out there like me, and they feel just as left out as I do, and yet I sit. Making necklaces.

I was terrified to reveal the truth of my life to everyone. I wrote on my blog last year that there are things about me that you don’t know, but this is to be expected. There’s a ton of things about you that I don’t know. That’s the point, right. Only now it’s become what I do. I can think of at least six things right now that would open up a whole world that you had no idea existed. And sometimes I want to tell you. A few of you I know, especially, would appreciate it or you could relate. And I’m sorry.

So in a few weeks it will be two years since my girlfriend and I moved into our own house in Arizona, miles and miles from where I used to live and how I used to think.

And here’s the other thing I didn’t say: we live now with each other and also with my two children. Yes. Two actual children. My children.

When I first started discovering my sexuality, I wasn’t the young twentysomething with the world at my feet that I said I was. I was — and am — a young twentysomething. But I was — but I am — also a mother of two.

I believe I’ve been gay since birth, but was too tragically ill-equipped, repressed and ignorant to realize it. And now there’s just so much, I’m bursting with it all.

So this marks my own kind of gay-i-versary, where I have just come out about the rest of the stuff. I’ve told my family that I am gay, and now I am telling the gays about my family.

Maybe writing this will reconcile the divided pieces of my online and offline selves. we’re all on the same page now. Right?

So right now I am actually miles and miles from my home in Arizona because on August 5th — tomorrow  — I am going to court because my ex-husband wants to take my children away from me on the grounds that my girlfriend and I are promoting an “immoral lifestyle” to them. I am terrified of this more than I’ve ever been terrified of anything.

I have told you the truth of my life.

I will sit here now, and feel naked, like the world split open.

Like the world at my feet.

And I’m terrified. Deep breath.

Smile.

1.2.3.

Smile.