Reflection Paper Final

I was twenty-three when my husband and I decided to divorce. The months after the divorce were a torrential emotional storm of confusion, doubt, and anxiety. Then one night, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine online. That small conversation was one of the most important things to ever happen to me in my life. It took weeks of analyzing every facet of every emotion before the epiphany occurred. Why was something so simple so hard for me to figure out? I realize now that is because no one ever told me that I was gay. We talked for a while, until out of the blue she told me something that took me by surprise.

“So, uh... I want to tell you some thing really important...” my friend said over an instant message. “...and it may seem weird... but I really really want you to know because I think you're a cool person, but I don't want you to think different of me...” She was gay. I remember thinking that her sentence's tone of awkwardness was perfectly complimented by her usage of ellipses.

“Oh, I am cool with that. Don't worry!” I assured her. “I'm really happy you trust me enough to tell me!”

“Of course I trust you! But... I also wanted to tell you... that I really really like you...” That's right, she confessed her feelings to me. It wasn't the first time some one had confessed their feelings of attraction to me, but it was the first time a girl had approached me with these sentiments.

I told her nicely that I was straight, and ended the conversation politely by going to bed, but I didn't get much sleep. Thoughts raced through my head, followed by excitement, which was followed by confusion. Why did I feel this way? My emotions conflicted with what I knew was true, and the truth was that I was straight, or so I thought. This was a truth I had accepted as far back as I could remember.

When I was young I would watch cartoons about princes and princesses with my cousin who was three years older than me, who also thought she was older.

“I think Prince Eric is really cute. When I grow up, I want to marry him.” My cousin would muse. She would often talk about boys, and even had a subscription to those magazines that featured boys, and other magazines that had tips about makeup, and how to dress attractively. “I want to get married happily ever after, and have two kids. One boy, and one girl. What do you want to do when you grow up?”

“I want to win a Nobel Prize!” I answered excitedly.

“No, no, no...” My cousin responded. “What kind of guy do you want? How many kids?” At the time, I really hadn't thought about it. Pictures of princes, and boys on t.v. flashed through my head, but none of them seemed appealing. “I think you would look good with Zack from Saved from the Bell.” She responded for me. As I grew older I kept trying to find an answer to her question, but none fit. Instead I would date boys that my friends approved of.

“Wow, Steve is hot. His family is rich too. I can't believe he asked you to the dance!” My friend wooed. A month later I ended things with Steve after a heavy make out session because I really wasn't into him. This was the trend with all my high school boyfriends. They would either move on because the physical parts of the relationship weren't going as far as they wanted it, or I would break it off before it ever got to that point. I made an exception for my marriage, but the disinterest in sex didn't go away after I got married.

“Why don't you like kissing me?” He would often ask while we were being intimate. “I feel like you don't like it when I touch you.”

“I just don't like sex.” I explained. “I hate the way it makes me feel.” It was the truth and a lie at the same time.

“How can you hate it? It is suppose to make you feel good.” It did make me feel good in the moment, he was right, I would orgasm, so what's the problem? Why did I feel so disgusting after the “moment” had passed.

“No...” I hesitated so I could find the right words. “I think it's me. I guess I just don't like sex.” And that's how it was through the duration of my marriage. I wish I could say that was our only conflict, but it wasn't.

“You have a crush on her!” Were the words of a friend that made most of the pieces fall in place. I hadn't realized I was talking about her again. She had asked me out on a date, but I had left her offer open-ended. After some time of conflicted contemplation, I took her up on her offer, and then the rest of the pieces came together. I learned that there was nothing wrong with me when it came to enjoying sex.

“I don't know how I never noticed!” I remember my mom saying once after I had come out to her. I don't know how she could have noticed when I hadn't realized it myself. I was too busy living up to the expectations of normalcy that I never thought I was gay. I hated any sort of intimacy with men so much I never thought to consider intimacy with women. But then again, no one ever did tell me I was gay.