.Borrowed Thoughts.

This was taken from a response on “Get Naked” — TimeOut New York’s sex advice column.

“Doesn’t it seem like we should all be long past the ‘my parents can’t handle the fact that I’m gay’ stage of human evolution? Not to belittle anyone’s struggle, but frankly, I find the whole notion that some folks still can’t wrap their heads around same-sex relationships painfully tedious…just because your family has issues with you being gay, that doesn’t mean you can fix things by time-warping yourself back into their dusty old mind-set. The only thing it’s essential for an adult to do is stay true to herself. It’s great to be close to your family, but not if the cost is your own well-being. Clearly, your folks would rather sacrifice your desires in order to keep their world hermetically sealed. Too bad. They don’t really get a choice in the matter. It’s 2007 for God’s sake: enough with the debates over gayness. Enough with the questions about whether they should be allowed to marry, to adopt, to be in the military, etc. Yes, yes, yes already.

The only thing gay people shouldn’t be allowed to do is succumb to their petty family’s emotional blackmailing schemes.”

Amen. While I disagree with the usage of the word “folks” more than once (just a pet peeve)– every other part is pretty much how I have felt for almost 10 years.

While my family is not as open as I’d like and hope, and while I still do not feel comfortable mentioning even vague details of my personal life–I do consider myself lucky in that I have a strong sense of self and through the years- my family has accepted me, not completely, but enough that I know they would never abandon me because of who I am attracted to.

I am so honest and open (sometimes to a fault) with most everyone in my life but I do hold back with those tied to me by blood. It is not because I feel ashamed, but I know THEY are uncomfortable and unfortunately with many traditional families– if their offspring is homosexual–immediate thoughts seem to be focused on the act of sex. Gross ma, get your head out of the gutter :) I haven’t even had any in God knows how long anyway!

I put up with the notion that I will probably always hear my girlfriend be referred to as “your friend”. I really don’t know why saying the name is so difficult. Maybe the name gives that person a more concrete identity and place in my life, and that is just too much to handle in that given moment. I don’t know.

For those that are still struggling with their families — I say to you — don’t worry. Things will eventually get better. Most likely it will NEVER be as picture-perfect as you’d like it to be, but in the LEAST–you and those who are supposed to love you unconditionally, will find that happy medium and be able to coexist peacefully. If THAT doesn’t ever happen, just remember that “family” does not equate blood and you do have people who will love you and all the different parts that make you who you are.

While sexuality does not define who we are– let us not kid ourselves. It is a huge part of our identity. Just like heterosexual women sometimes like to talk about men at random amongst friends/coworkers, etc, homosexual women sometimes like to talk about women at random. Just because it is different (to you; to some) — do not for a second mistake that for being “excessive” or someone “putting it in your face”.

And a word for anybody giving a family member a hard time for living and loving the way it is natural for them to–grow up and Welcome to The fucking World.*

* Excuse my French, I am exhausted physically and metaphorically.

I think it is natural, that when you are truly in love with somebody, you feel a pain inside. The love, literally hurts and it’s a deep hurt that could be felt throughout. Now, if you are nodding your head because you have been beat by your loved one and are thinking to yourself — “finally someone gets it!”–well, I’m sorry–but I am not talking about that. Please seek help by the way.

It is the kind of pain that comes when you look at that person, and if you are anything like me–can’t help but imagine the worst possible scenarios happening, and those thoughts making you ill. When I was with my last girlfriend–I caught myself many times watching her in her sleep, or just moving around the room and being overwhelmed with a feeling of grief caused by the own warped thoughts invading my mind. I would sit or lay there, throat parched, as I caught a glimpse of what it would feel like to lose her in all sorts of different ways. I don’t mean lose her as in breaking up–that hardly ever crossed my mind. I think when you reach a certain level of love–it stops becoming a relationship and a girlfriend but rather, as cliche as it sounds–becomes a oneness. Two souls intertwined.

I was envisioning real loss, as in death or sickness, or something else. I would drive home at night and nervous that when I got inside to my bedroom to call her she wouldn’t pick up because tragedy struck and she got hit by a car, or got pushed into the tracks while an oncoming subway car was approaching- the conductor, powerless to stop. When she’d answer–I’d feel instantly relieved, and happy. The dumb ear to ear grin probably felt through the wires.

I wondered if she ever watched me as I slept and brought herself to tears by envisioning the face that she was now stroking growing cold, and lifeless–or even worse–heavily made-up in a very unnatural way while inside a casket. I doubt it.

I’d also grow just as sad thinking about something suddenly happening to me. Not because I am melodramatic and egotistical and like picturing the faces of family and friends at my funeral weeping over how empty their lives are now that I am not around. No, but because then she’d be the one left alone–and that upset me. I didn’t like the feeling I got when I thought of her being sad. I’d hope if I perished unexpectedly–she’d know I was with her always and somehow I’d be able to give her signs from wherever I end up -especially at the times she doubted those kinds of things even exist. She’d even get signs from me as she moved on and started dating. I’d make a a light flicker if the person wasn’t worthy or something.

I knew it was love when she’d ask me if I’d still love her without any legs (why do couples always play these kind of ‘what if’ games?”) and I’d answer yes without any hesitation. I’d love her the same if she was just a stump of a woman. No legs or arms…just a torso and head. Like those plastic weighted clowns you’d kick and punch when you were little. I’d be happy to carry her around the world like a little baby and glare at anyone who dared look at her in any way other than adoration–because that would be the only way I’d look at her. My little freak for life.

While, I don’t think many people have thought about these kinds of things as much as I have–or to the same extent–I am sure we all have -for at least a split second thought about what we’d feel if someone we loved suddenly vanished. It hurts–and it horrifies–and it’s supposed to–and that’s how you know you are totally in love and there’s no turning back. No more throwing in the towel because of the huge fight you had the other night. The emotions you feel during a blow-out –can’t ever compare to what you’d feel if that person’s number was up.

It’s funny how I could feel like such a big-hearted person when I think back at how I’d feel this way, but like a cruel judgemental bitch at other times. Like those times I dismiss people as even potential dinner-date possibilities because they have an obsession with musical theater and I just can’t deal with that. Some people are lucky to get the pure, loving sides of us–while most–deal with the moody, fickle, and seemingly impossible to please jerks.

I guess that’s why so many people say love changes them for the better. We are just better people to those we can’t ever imagine losing.

After all, you gotta make everyday worth it, before they go.