PS - you were warned...
Oh there is a change a happening inside this very hum drum brain of mine. A small squeak of awakening. You know, I used to class myself as a fairly social creature. Not that I would sit inside away from the world, but not that I would be all in it's face either. But recently, since tumbling out of the closet, I feel like I am now caught between being a hermit, and someone who wants to stand on a tall building calling out to the world shouting, ‘I AM HERE!’
Part of me wants to rush out and meet the world head on again. To seize it, feel it, touch it. Be part of it, the madness, the pain, the love, the laughter. I want to feel it run through my fingers, inhale it's scent, taste all it has to offer. It's like starting again, in a newish shell. I feel a bit righter inside, like that off balance slightly disjointed feeling has gone. But then I start to put my foot outside the door and a mammoth about of insecurities flood my synapses and send me running backwards in a flailing wind mill fashion.....
SO! What is it about being me that I find so difficult to manage? That leaves me feeling like I have to somehow protect the rest of the world from me?? And its not in a 'Oh my God I'm hideous!' kinda thing. I actually don't think i am too bad looking, even If i say so. I'm 30 ffs. I'm never going to look much different, so i may as well like what i got given! But since coming out, I feel like I am a bit of a walking destruction zone. It’s as if I appear in people’s lives, love them, give myself willingly to helping, nurturing, caring for them, and then instead of departing from said lives gracefully, I, well, I appear to train wreck them. When I touch someone’s life, I have such a sincere genuine desire to want to make them happy, and I wish and yearn that I would do this in a delicate manner. The reality is that I am a bit ham-fisted at the whole thing, and that I (with my hob nail size 6’s) stomp gaping holes in their respective lives instead.
Now, if you meet me within my comfort zone, you wouldn’t have a clue to the randomness behind the mask. I am a perfectly, fully functioning, adult, happy and at home in the habitat that I have created. BUT if I deploy myself into wider society it all goes a bit wrong. And NOW even worse, I feel like I am expected to re-learn a whole bunch of skill sets………. Usually it's a bit like I am on show and expected to perform in a particular manner, one of which to me feels quite foreign and alien. There seems to be an immense amount of pressure on me to fit a mould, and mostly, it's to a song and dance, that I’ve never really learnt.
But even though the disquiet I continually felt has somewhat dissipated, I am now left wondering how I progress. You see I am good on my own. With being able to manage my own things, and bits and bobs. My own, idiosyncrasies. But I am now getting the sinking feeling that I have stumbled into a world that isn’t quite ready for me yet. I just want to be me. Gay and all. Nowt wrong with it, don’t see why I should hide my light under a bushel and all that. BUT and here’s the rub. Other people are expecting me to. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to take a four page ad out in the local paper, but I don’t want to hide the fact that I like the ladies. The lads in my office clearly don’t, so why should i? The other thing that is worrying me, is that I used to have difficulty telling when a chap was flirting with me. I am now even more clueless than I was in the first place. AND there is a whole new coding structure, with Lipstick Lesbians, Butches, Soft Butch, Femme, I mean, I didn’t realise there were genre’s within genres?! Is this like the Emo, goth, townie thing? And you know what, I can’t always tell! It's like my gaydar has it's own bloody mind. One minute it pinging like a fire alarm going off over burnt toast, then other times it's like a silent spectre, sitting and watching and not being a bleeding lot of use!!!!!!
There is one thing that worries me, and I think this is the probably the same for most lasses in my boat. What happens when I like someone? *raises eyebrow*
Ah. Yes. That one……. What happens, when I like someone?
What used to happen was that I would end up making a TWAT out of myself and nearly ruining the opportunity in the first place. OR the old creeper, when I would be merrily bantering away with someone and then find myself face deep in a lip lock (I quite like this methodology, but it means the other person, HAS to make the first move.) Others have included my utter shock when I have been asked out, asked for phone numbers, or even, I once had someone scream at me in frustration, ‘For Fuck Sake, I really want to go out with you, are you fucking interested or not!’ The last one probably demonstrates just how epically shit I really can be.
So. Am I left with being the one to make the first move? And what if they’re not Gay?!? What if I am waaaay of base? Can I even make the first move? What is a first move? *head meets desk*
So I think this is what has sent me scuttling back indoors somewhat. Which is exactly where I don’t really want to be. Life isn’t something that you can fidget with the corner of. It is this unwieldy beastie of a thing, which, if your lucky, doesn’t always chew you up and spit you out. It has the ability to be wonderful, and stunning, and breath-taking. It can also be soul destroying if you live it for someone else instead of you. And that is exactly how I found myself marching out of the closet. Somehow I had managed to turn my life into some form of happiness currency for everyone else bar myself. And with my Dad being diagnosed with terminal Cancer, I suddenly woke up like I had been electrocuted. I realised, with somewhat bowl clenching clarity, that I couldn’t carry on living the way I had. And although that meant facing up to some pretty big things I had been avoiding for the last 2-3years, it was the inevitable conclusion. Just shunted forward a bit quicker than my brain could handle. Ending a marriage, your way of life, and closing a chapter that is huge is never easy. There have been tears, wailing, and at one point, I was left feeling as if I were staring down the barrel of a shotgun. It also feels like the most selfish, liberating act on the planet.
So. I like the ladies. I'm hoping, (dear god please) that a few may like me too. I have no IDEA what i'm supposed to do, and feel a little like Bambi on Ice. And although i am socially inept, incrediably awkward, and a bit rubbish in general, maybe, just maybe, someone will see past all that crap, and perhaps buy me a coffee.....................
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