Six word memoir - part II

In the closet, came out, twice:

Let me fill in the rest of the story. Sher was partially right when she asked if I tripped the first time out. Metaphorically, yes, I tripped on a lot of b-a-a-d men who hurt me emotionally in ways they probably didn't even realize. I came out the first time when I was 21. Had a good time for a few years dating around (read sleeping for dating and that's closer to the truth) and got tired of it after a while. I wanted more, but most/all of the guys I was meeting at the time wanted the NSA relationship... No Strings Attached. And I was lied to a lot. If I could have been distilled into one word, that word would have been naive.

When I was 24, I met a girl who was a cashier at the grocery store I shopped at. It all started with sandwich spread. You know that pink stuff you get from the deli and it's supposed to resemble ham salad? The first time through her line with a container of that, um, goo and the conversation went something like this:

She: You aren't going to eat that, are you?
Me: Well, I wasn't planning on spreading it between my toes.
She: You don't want to eat that. Really.
Me: But I like ham salad
She: So do I. But that's not ham salad. Trust me. I've seen them make that stuff and you really don't want to eat it.
Me: Really?
She: REALLY!

So I put the carton of sandwich spread down, paid for the rest of my groceries and left. There was something about her. So I made sure to go through her checkout every time I went there. She was friendly, I mistook that for flirty, and asked her out. And she said yes. There's more to the story, but that started my journey back into the closet for the next nine years.

We didn't date for very long, but I've ended up with one of the best friends I've ever had. It's a short, special list. It takes a lot to be on it. But it doesn't take too much to get kicked off of it either. I found out the hard way that the true definition of a friend is that they are someone who is there for you when you need them. They return your calls when they say they will. And they don't constantly blow you off for someone or something else. In other words, if it seems like you are doing all the work all the time, the other person really isn't your friend.

When I was 33, I had a long and difficult talk with myself (Gemini curse, one side wanted to talk, the other side didn't) as to why it seemed like I was dating all the wrong women. They were either unattainable, undesirable (and not just physically) or just plain bitchy to me. The conclusion of that talk was that if I dated the wrong women then I wouldn't end up married to one of them. Because if I were to marry a woman, I would end up hurting her beyond all belief by cheating on her with a man at some point. I may have been lying to myself, but I couldn't live a lie married to someone else.

The thing about being in the closet is that you lead a dual life. The life that you let everyone see and the one that you hope no one ever discovers, the life where you sneak off to dark little bars out of town where you hope no one recognizes you. Because the worst part of it getting out isn't that other people would know, the worst part is that you have to admit to yourself that you are a phony and have to make changes. And it's just damned exhausting trying to cover your tracks all the time.

So, I came out again. To everyone that time. Slowly, but I didn't try to hide who I am anymore. I'm not "in your face - confrontational" about it either. But I won't hide who I am or my family (who means the world to me.) The best part though? The fear of being ostracized hasn't proven to be true. I'd venture to say that with few exceptions most people who know me are supportive. And if they're not they've kept that to themselves. That's all anyone can ask.