dazed and confused: a closer look at denial and distress
I'm having an identity crisis.
Okay, well, technically, I've been having an identity crisis for well over a year now.
As I've grown up and am now pushing my extremely late 20s, I've dated a lot. With the exception of one boy I dated in high school and early college, I never really felt like I was in love with anyone that I dated. My relationships rarely lasted longer than 6 months. I just figured I hadn't found the right guy yet. I assumed when I least expected it, the right guy would take my world by storm, and I would just know that he was the one for me.
The right guy.
Last fall, I celebrated the one year anniversary of when my girlfriend and I first started seeing each other. I was leaving the karaoke bar where we were hanging out, and before I knew it, she followed me out the door and she kissed me in the parking lot. From that moment, I knew my world would never be the same. I fell in love, and it certainly happened when I least expected it. She took my world by storm, and somehow, I just knew this was it for me.
It still shocks the hell out of me, but here I am, madly in love with a girl. Friends have told me that I shouldn't be so concerned with the label, but I don't have a choice. Society labels me a lesbian. But I refuse to be one. I REFUSE.
I still think Matthew McConnaghey is the hottest creature alive, I still over-accessorize, I take far too long to get ready to do anything, and I refuse to leave the house without makeup. I've been to a Melissa Etheridge concert and felt so out of place that I wanted to cry. I refuse to watch the Comets or any other WNBA team. I carry purse with 18 kinds of lip gloss inside, and primp every time I use the restroom. Rosie O'Donnell still bugs me quite a bit, and uber-butch women creep me out a lot. And I certainly don't want to watch the parade of naked breasts that was installed on my screensaver by the somewhat butch Sponge of a woman who once lived in my guest room.
Part of my crisis also lies within the fact that I can never picture myself being with any other woman. I grosses me out a little. But then again, the thought of being with a man again grosses me out a little, too.
And of course, there's the fact that I cry each time I think about the fact that I'll never get to have that first dance with my daddy at my wedding, or have him walk me down the aisle. I'll never get to plan the soiree with mom, and fight over seating arrangements and invitations. (I know we've covered this before, but it's a biggie...)
It still shocks me to the core. I'm completely and totally in love with a girl, and I plan to stay in this for the long run.
But don't you dare call me a lesbian.
Okay, well, technically, I've been having an identity crisis for well over a year now.
As I've grown up and am now pushing my extremely late 20s, I've dated a lot. With the exception of one boy I dated in high school and early college, I never really felt like I was in love with anyone that I dated. My relationships rarely lasted longer than 6 months. I just figured I hadn't found the right guy yet. I assumed when I least expected it, the right guy would take my world by storm, and I would just know that he was the one for me.
The right guy.
Last fall, I celebrated the one year anniversary of when my girlfriend and I first started seeing each other. I was leaving the karaoke bar where we were hanging out, and before I knew it, she followed me out the door and she kissed me in the parking lot. From that moment, I knew my world would never be the same. I fell in love, and it certainly happened when I least expected it. She took my world by storm, and somehow, I just knew this was it for me.
It still shocks the hell out of me, but here I am, madly in love with a girl. Friends have told me that I shouldn't be so concerned with the label, but I don't have a choice. Society labels me a lesbian. But I refuse to be one. I REFUSE.
I still think Matthew McConnaghey is the hottest creature alive, I still over-accessorize, I take far too long to get ready to do anything, and I refuse to leave the house without makeup. I've been to a Melissa Etheridge concert and felt so out of place that I wanted to cry. I refuse to watch the Comets or any other WNBA team. I carry purse with 18 kinds of lip gloss inside, and primp every time I use the restroom. Rosie O'Donnell still bugs me quite a bit, and uber-butch women creep me out a lot. And I certainly don't want to watch the parade of naked breasts that was installed on my screensaver by the somewhat butch Sponge of a woman who once lived in my guest room.
Part of my crisis also lies within the fact that I can never picture myself being with any other woman. I grosses me out a little. But then again, the thought of being with a man again grosses me out a little, too.
And of course, there's the fact that I cry each time I think about the fact that I'll never get to have that first dance with my daddy at my wedding, or have him walk me down the aisle. I'll never get to plan the soiree with mom, and fight over seating arrangements and invitations. (I know we've covered this before, but it's a biggie...)
It still shocks me to the core. I'm completely and totally in love with a girl, and I plan to stay in this for the long run.
But don't you dare call me a lesbian.
posted by Flipside at 10:48 AM
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