Sexual Identification and Other Personal Matters

Several years ago, a good friend confided in me that, when he and his husband first met me and my wife, they assumed that we were “part of the tribe.”  I remember his words distinctly: “We always assumed that you and Kysa were gay and this was just a marriage of convenience.”

I remember laughing at that and then immediately replying, “There is nothing convenient about marriage.”  I then proceeded to set him straight (so to speak).

This was certainly not the first time it was assumed I was gay.  I gave up being offended by the thought way back in my high school days.  I was, and continue to be, very heterosexual and am very comfortable with that status.

After all, from the time I was 16 (when I first got a car and, therefore, became attractive to the opposite sex), I have been in a series of male-female relationships which, for the most part, were all fairly monogamous and long-lasting.  I had two different girlfriends in high school (the first was the one that only loved me for my wheels).  The second lasted into college where I, rather cowardly in hindsight, traded her in for a new model.  I admit the shame and guilt over that decision; but didn’t learn my lesson at the time, since after a few years, I repeated that pattern with my next girlfriend.  I list these embarrassing choices, not to purge my soul of guilt (that will never happen), but to reinforce the fact that my testosterone levels are (or at least were) very healthy and certainly pointed toward the opposite sex.

However, if you take sex and attraction out of the picture; I can certainly understand the misunderstanding many people have had over the years about my sexuality.  Let’s examine the tell-tale clues which they may have followed:

• I have a sibilant “s” when I speak.  I know this has nothing to do with sexuality, but ask the average knuckle-dragging imbecile to do an impersonation of a gay man and you will inevitably be spayed with their saliva as they screech out, “Oh, thweetie, you look abtholutely FABULOUTH!”  So, basically, while growing up, as soon as I opened my mouth, my inability to say “Susie sells sea shells down by the seashore” would doom me in the eyes of bullies far and wide as a “Thithy Mary.”
• I’m not athletic in the least.  Whereas my wife will rant and rave over a missed touchdown at the drop of, well, the ball, I guess; I bide my time with trivia games on my phone until the Super Bowl commercials come on.  Occasionally, in order to try to stay engaged, I will ask knowingly, “How many home runs did the Raiders shoot today?”  (Always an impressive conversation killer)
• I grew up in an overly expressive, emotionally open, theatre family.  I loved theatre in every form, but particularly lose my mind over musicals.  Okay?  ‘Nuff said on that topic.
• Also, because of that openly emotional upbringing, I am a hugger.  I’ve never been the firm handshake, hearty slap on the back sort of guy.  Why assert dominance when a cuddly hug will make all involved feel better?
• I enjoy dressing up (NO! Not in lady-wear!).  I truly enjoy having nice clothes and finding the occasion to “dress to the nines,” as they say.  When I took my [female] date to her Senior Prom in high school, I wore a white tux and tails, white top hat, and carried a white walking stick.  The stick proved useful in the inevitable smackdown that I expected; but I fear I smudged my topper.
• Finally, I have always preferred the company of female friends.  Yes, often I was secretly lusting after them; but, once that goal became inevitably dashed, I actually enjoyed their company over spending time with “the guys.”  It was simply too much pressure to constantly turn down cigars, not gag at the guzzling of beer, and try to carry my own in the overly dramatic sportsball arguments that would arise.

Anyway, I list all of those specifics to simply state that I understand why the casual acquaintance (and occasional close friend) would misconstrue my true incredibly hetero nature; but the fact is, my sexual identity was never personally in doubt.  I knew what I found attractive (honestly, the shapely female posterior and long gamine-like legs) and what I found hideous and, honestly, comic (penis). (Really, why would ANYONE want to look at one of those? I’ll never understand the flasher mentality.)

But, these days it’s gotten SO confusing.  Just look at the letters designating  the gay community:  LGBTQ (and now some people put a “+” after that!).

I long for the good old days when you were either gay or straight.  Those were the choices.  Don’t get me wrong.  I fully believe that anyone should be able to be open about who they love and no one has the right to tell them that that isn’t the right thing to do or it’s abnormal.

But it’s sort of exhausting to try to keep up.

I remember when I first heard about bisexuals (long after growing up with the pretty consistent gay slurs being assigned to me).  All I could think about was that bisexuals were just gay people who wanted sex so badly, they lowered their standards. Don’t yell at me!  I’ve grown. I’ve evolved.  I’ve learned. (But that thought still is etched pretty deeply into my brain.)

And now, we’ve  moved beyond transgender individuals to the gender fluid.  Sometimes, I just feel lost.  I see someone who is not immediately identifiable as a he or she and, although I support them in their identity, I’m so afraid of offending them by calling them an incorrect pronoun, that I just stupidly smile and nod and slowly back away from the pressure of interaction.

Luckily, I’m old now and sex plays little to no part in my daily existence; but personal interaction has not diminished and I need to reduce the complications in my life as much as possible.

I can now pledge to avoid delving into discussions regarding politics, religion, race, gender, immigration, health and wellness, the arts (or lack thereof), science and… oh, yeah, above all else, sportsball.

I think I’ll just keep to myself and relish the days I needed to defend my masculinity.

Look how I’ve run on.  I’m late for my weekly mani-pedi while sipping on my strawberry daiquiri with the fruit and umbrella.