1) When you’re four or five, paging
through the “Christmas Wishes” catalogue, and you find yourself flipping back
and forth from the women’s to the men’s underwear section, and the same-sex
pages make you “feel funny,” just know that you are in for a helluva ride. Even
if you think, Wow, I’m backward, your
second thought, but I guess that’s okay,
is good. Your third thought, Maybe it
will change, is tragic and not true, but when you live in a town of ten
thousand in the middle of nowhere, circa 1969, and your family-of-origin has
issues enough, that’s the thought that will protect you. That, and your fourth
thought—I’m not going to tell anyone—which
is really for the best. You won’t remember having the infamous catalogue
experience, or any of the accompanying thoughts, until many years in the
future (thank God for denial). Get good and comfortable with vague confusion.
2) Keep your head down in the locker room
(why are there so damn many locker rooms in childhood?). About the young woman
who, in your teenage years, sits on the bench and watches you undress: she does
not hate you and is not trying to intimidate you. Quite the opposite. Again,
you will not realize this until many years have passed, but oh, well.
3) If you find that you just want to be
with your best friend, and you feel anxiety, raging jealousy, and self-hatred
when she does anything with anyone else: you are what people call “in love.”
Get used to it. It’s not comfortable, but it might eventually be fun.
4) The boys and men who will like you,
even love you—there’s nothing at all wrong with them. Someday, in the future,
you will want to reassure them of this, but there will be no adequate way, so
just wish them well in your heart. What else can you do?
5) If you go to New York City dance clubs
with your boyfriend, and you check out women together, there is a major
problem.
6) When you go to your first Gay Pride
parade in NYC, but you’re not out (even to yourself), expect to be surprised.
While your very liberal church hands out water to the marchers, your best gay
male buddy will keep cocking his head to one side and saying, “Something’s
happening with you.” And he’s right. A co-worker may call to you from within
the ranks of the parade, and you will run out and hug her, and when you return
to the sidewalk, the whole world will appear radically fresh and recalibrated,
but you still won’t “get it.” And it won’t help matters when that tall, slim,
attractive woman from Dykes on Bikes slyly asks you where there’s a bathroom at
the end of the parade. She’s really asking something else, but you won’t
understand. You will have an empty feeling when the festivities are over and
will, no doubt, wonder where everyone went and why you feel so lonely and weird.
7) On your way home from said parade, you
will probably appear somewhat transfigured to other people [insert heavenly chimes]. A young man may
suddenly appear and offer to carry your groceries home for you—something that never
happens. You will surely go to bed thinking everything will be “normal” the
next day.
8) You will realize that the day after the Gay Pride parade really should
be its own holiday. I say this because gay people are then usually a) hung
over, b) happily exhausted, or c) freaking out. If you went to sleep thinking
everything would return to usual, you are in for quite a shock. At work, you
might walk around the production floor of a large publishing house and—like
Saul of Tarsus in the Christian Bible—have scales fall from your eyes. Good God, you’ll think, half the people in this company are gay!!
How did I not notice that? How is it that I know now? At this point, you
will want to go to your office, shut the door, and hold your head in your hands.
You will feel emotionally naked and frightened. That’s completely appropriate.
9) Thus begins a very trying period where
a) you don’t sleep well, if at all, b) you can’t concentrate, c) you wish someone
would give you a Xanax, d) you realize that health insurance should have a
“coming out” clause, whereby you could hole up in your apartment with your cat
because you just can’t deal with anything. A note: even your cat will get sick
of you. Your stress may actually cause his skin to flake.
10) It’s perfectly acceptable to sit in your badly
furnished, off-the-slope Park Slope, Brooklyn, apartment and pet your cat for a
year (or more). You’ll have to force yourself out the door and onto a crowded
subway to work at a job so that you can eat. But go back home as soon as you
can. Don’t think you have to go anywhere special to figure things out. Ruminating
is fine. After a couple decades with your head in the sand, it’s absolutely
acceptable.
11) You may lose your nerve when you first find
the secret address with the normal-looking door buzzer. Allow for that. Just
know that the people upstairs understand your predicament. They’re all in the
same boat (you might even run into a co-worker here!). But you’re probably not ready to talk about this. (See number
9.)
12) Your vegetarian blond artist friend with the
face of an angel is not a lesbian or even bi unless she uses those terms about
herself. Even if she admits she likes to look at women more than men. Even if
she’s willing to accompany you to a dance at the LGBT center. If she’s dating
men and isn’t into you, you need to accept where she’s at and who she is.
(Return to number 9.)
13) The cute, athletic brunette you met at the
secret address might be interested in you, but she is really meant for someone
else—probably someone with a better figure and less emotional baggage. Don’t
write her stupid letters, whatever you do. And if you make that mistake, return
to number 9.
14) Don’t be surprised if two ex-boyfriends arrive
to help you move out of your apartment when you’re ready to go to graduate
school. They are such good fellows, even if one accidentally lets the
air-conditioning unit drop from the window. No one will be hurt, and “Do you
want to throw any other small appliances out my window?” will forever be a
great laugh-line. Years later, you will wonder what happened to that guy and
hope that he’s extraordinarily happy somewhere.
15) When the Mississippi floods, you really should
not drive alone toward and across it with a U-Haul. This may sound like a cool
idea. You may feel too neurotic in your half-“out” state to be trapped in a
truck with your crated cat and someone else, but you’ll probably regret not
having company. Midwestern towns look like hell during floods, it’s difficult
to find an apartment when you’re driving around in a U-Haul, and your new
landlord is bound to price-gouge you when he learns you’ve just come from New
York.
16) Choosing to attend a graduate program while
still in the process of coming out is usually not a good idea, because a) you
still can’t sleep, b) you still can’t concentrate, and c) you still wish
someone would give you a Xanax. Creative writing programs, especially, present
formidable challenges. Some of your peers have so much talent, you will wonder
if they need to be here at all. You, though fairly well read, will be a good
distance behind and an emotional train wreck to boot. Spottily attend your
seminars. Expect some out-of-body experiences; there will be plenty. Spend
oodles of time in that apartment petting and feeding your cat or walking around
Iowa City. When you feel extremely perplexed or angry, walk to a bowling alley
several miles away and bowl your heart out even though you stink at the sport.
Save your glass recyclables so you can take them to the special drop-off site,
then throw them as hard as you can into the receptacles just to hear them crash
(very cathartic). Sit in coffee shops (there are so many!). When you inquire
about coming out groups at the women’s center, you will probably be told that
you need to be “of the experience” (sorry, you do look that straight). The neighborhood gay bar is friendly, but
you’re a long way from New York and slinking around trying to be anonymous
won’t work; when people express interest in you (when were you ever this popular?), just tell them you
aren’t ready. Some of the best conversations you will have here will be with
gay men, one of whom you’ll even end up protecting (yes! Little you). Riding on
the back of motorcycles with leather-jacketed women is recommended. Occasionally, one or another totally
stoned-out friend will land on your couch; they are too shy to tell you they
like you and are waiting for you to make a move. Expect that your bright,
intelligent, straight-women classmates appear attractive because they are. A maybe-twenty-year-old blond
lesbian is too young and may try to break into your apartment with a credit
card. On the other hand, it’s best not to send a note to the visiting poetry
professor who is a good fifteen to twenty years your senior, even though she’s extremely
smart and practically makes you pass out whenever you spot her (send her a nice
email in the future, when your life’s calmed down, and that will make you both
feel good). Stay at home, let the cat wander out the window onto the rooftop,
drop fish flakes into your new tank and admire their silent, underwater world
with its electric hum. You and the fish are one.
17) Very
important: DO NOT GO to NYC during the huge Stonewall anniversary and try
yet again to entice the cute, athletic brunette you first encountered at the
secret address. She’s still in love with the woman with the better figure and
less emotional baggage and probably always will be even if they’re broken up
right now. Despite your both being single and lonely, it’s good to forego sleeping with
your best gay male buddy—you can congratulate yourself later that you didn’t
make a bad situation worse (whew!). Instead, go to Long Island and allow the
ex-boyfriend you kept in touch with and who helped you pack the U-Haul for
graduate school to do simple things to nurse you back to health. He has such
kindness and class.
18) Do not, I repeat, do not come out to your
parents or anyone significant within six months of Thanksgiving or Christmas.
That’s just asking for trouble.
19) Do not come out to anyone who has a history of
psychotic breaks, at least not until you can handle the consequences. They may
try to reassure you and then not be able to string together a coherent
sentence.
20) If you made the mistake of coming out to your
parents too close to the holidays, be prepared for a fiasco, even if you do not
go home. If they’ve been told not to talk about it with your siblings, they
will take that literally and will tell all the other relatives at the Thanksgiving gathering as well as various
people in your home town. You, meanwhile, thousands of miles away, might find
that on this holiday you cannot seem to stop drinking. When your gay male
classmate (who doesn’t yet know he’s gay) comes to pick you up for the
Thanksgiving meal, you’ll be charming but half out of your mind. Your very able
future mate will have fixed the turkey for all the attending members of your
graduate program, but both of you will be completely distracted (and you, too
drunk) to be aware of each other. When you are dropped off at a lesbian
couple’s house later, you’ll be fairly well soused and will play the part of buffoon
for this second turkey dinner. Do not lie down at home when you return later
and do not smoke a cigarette because if you do, you will end up on your knees
vomiting two perfectly well-cooked Thanksgiving meals, laughing maniacally, and
proclaiming yourself “a mess.”
21) Do not go to the local gay bar drunk and stoned.
Naturally, the one stable woman you’ve met outside school will be there. When
she learns that you’ve recently come out to your parents, do not act macho, as
if you’ve got everything under control. She’s bound to see through this, and
though she’s interested in you, she’ll return to her ex, who is sure to be more
grounded and honest.
22) Eventually, your future mate—the cute, funny, extremely
smart and well-read woman with the shining brown eyes—will sit down next to you
in a class. A mutual friend will ask you both to dinner. You might get asked
out on a real date by your future partner afterward and not realize it. You’ll
be a bit confounded. Go anyway, dammit! When she arrives and says something
like, “You live across the street from the Chapel of Perpetual Adoration—how
appropriate!” you will know she’s a keeper. It’s okay to hem and haw over the
ensuing weeks while having heart-to-heart conversations with her (who knew you
could come clean?). She will not care about your baggage. She will live through
your wondering if you “didn’t try hard enough” with men. She will fight her way
through all your stupidity and stubbornness, your obsessions and weaknesses. She
will put the cat you fed too much on a diet. She’ll move halfway across the
country with you. She will talk you through a panic attack on a pay phone.
She’ll take the baby out of your arms and send you back to bed. She’ll eat
cheeseburgers with you after the children receive horrible diagnoses and then work
incredibly hard to provide for all of you. She will struggle to write beautiful
lines, and these will inspire you, and you’ll never be bored with her
(frightened, yes; bored, no). She will call you “my angel,” “my beloved,” “my
sail and my compass.” That, my friend, is how you will know you are home.
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