Confessions from an ex-gay

The phrase ex-gay never tickled or amused me as much as it has after I became one. But now I delight in it- the irony of taking a label for fun that I don't really associate with (as someone who believes in the Eternal Return, I am not really ex-anything), especially one that is generally held by dispicable people. But in any case, it's not easy being an ex-gay, or whatever, and I wonder what it all means. As I walk into the confessional booth this week, I think:

* I came out to my parents for the first time in the summer between my junior and senior years in high school. I had been been doing some bad things, to put it mildly, and was getting caught. They asked me if there was anything else I wanted to tell them, and I said, "yeah, I'm gay!" I meant it, I felt it- I had known myself for about a year, and had suspected it for longer- but I didn't mean to tell them in that way, in that context. It wasn't nice. Plus, it didn't do what I intended it to do, which was take the focus off my bad behavior. They accepted it (as of course they would)- so it was a wasted attempt to get out of trouble. That was a stupid reason to come out, and not a very nice way to do it.

* About a year after that, I started dating men heavily. Let's say I was confused. One of these men told me he was an alien (like he had his own planet and everything). Very confused.

* I packed in high school. And had a crush on Cassy Martin- The Dyke To Know. She hated me.

* We formed a club- DDF it was called. (Just like duck, duck, goose- but it was dyke, dyke, fag--) Back then, we got off on using inflammatory labels to throw it in the face of the establishment. It was like the time I marched in the pride parade topless. I don't regret those years, or that rebellion, but now am not sure what the point was.

* I continued to say I was gay. What did I mean? I got married. Then divorced. Then settled in for being gay for the long haul. It was good. I felt like I found finally what I was supposed to be doing. It was right.

* At some point I nursed fantasies about a guy I knew- a FTM transexual who was intelligent, sweet, and sexy. He also had a vagina. Was this the best of best worlds?

* Now, after well more than 10 years of living fully as a gay woman- the last seven with a woman whom I loved deeply- I am engaged to a man. At first, I told him that I was still gay, just I liked him. He accepted that.

* But I felt so much GUILT at first. And shame. I hated going out with gay friends, even those who knew I was "traitorous." I made feeble attempts to continue to out myself to other lesbians, while hiding the fact that I was in fact sleeping with a man. I did this to one of ...Deb's friends, and I am sorry about that. It was pathetic.

* I felt like I was betraying my "people." That finding love with a man was rejecting the community that I was a part of (even though, to their credit, nobody, or virtually nobody, implied this). I flirted with girls at the grocery store, and sometimes tried to pretend I wasn't "with him."

* I miss same sex relationships. I miss the comraderie that develops between two people that, having the same sex/gender in our society, creates. With a similar gender role and similar socialization, things are somehow easier between two women. Communication is easier. Interests are similar. It's like having a twin all the time.

* But the fact is, now I'm not even sure how I identify myself. Queer maybe. But I still hate to be disassociated with the gay label: more pathetic attempts occurred when I started grad school to make sure everyone knew that I "used" to be gay.

* I blur gender pronouns of Jon in public; the same as I used to with Tamara, but for different reasons. I am not (and never was) ashamed of my relationship with either of them. I should stop doing this.

* I purposely want to bring it to the foreground that I am not straight. This is immature. For example, in the last two days alone, I have said, "I lick pussy with the best of them," and also referred to male and female significant others in the same sentence. I also admitted to having been the victim of harassment because of gender ambiguity. Why do I feel the need to tell strangers these things? Because I want to prove I'm not a boring straight white girl?

* The truth is, I am probably a "real" bisexual. I am one of those women I villified for awhile when I was in high school, then for the rest of my gay career assumed didn't really exist. Bisexuals were either cashing in on lesbian chic but were really straight, or even worse, got the benefits of being with a woman when convenient but didn't have to take the lumps of "living the lifestyle" like the rest of us. These were gay women who were cheating. So my punishment is I have now become one of these women who I didn't believe existed.

* I haven't mentioned, and I need to, that I love Jon. And frankly, I don't care anymore what his gender is. I don't want- or expect- to ever be on the dating market again, but if I am, it is an even-odds bet what gender I would end up dating. And for now, that ambiguity is just fine. I'm going to stop trying to prove myself.