So, are you a lesbian now?

“When did all this come about?”

That’s how my best friend asks about this recent development in my life. She says it as if she is asking about a new hair color or an outfit in a style that I would not normally wear… like if I’m usually all peasant tops and flowy skirts and suddenly I step out in something preppy and tailored. Funny way to ask about the thing that’s currently threatening to upend my entire life–my marriage, my family, and everything that I thought I knew about myself.

So, are you a lesbian?

The question sits in my ears for a while, timid and reserved. Then it makes it’s way to my brain, where it spins around a bit and tries to find a place to get settled. Not able to find a place there, it slides toward my throat. “Am I a lesbian?” comes out of my mouth as the elusive question passes my voice box. I can only repeat the thing I can’t find the words to respond to. I don’t understand this shit myself. There’s no reasoning it out. No logical explanation. No sound and succinct way to make this all understood.

“So, are you a lesbian?” The question spins itself into a warm knot in my chest. There it finds companions. The crushes that I brushed aside because I thought every girl sometimes felt that way about another girl…even though no one I knew ever talked about it. The way I used sex with men to fill an abysmal emptiness that was always, always present. Even when I should have been at my happiest—on the arm of a great man who seemed to love me—there was loneliness, and from that guilt, and from that anger, sadness, inadequacy. I thought I was simply destined to be unhappy.

“You have a tendency to be depressed,” my husband said to me once. I agreed. I wept at night for no reason… always privately. Because how could I share something so foolish. I had a beautiful child, an intelligent and faithful man….what right did I have to be unhappy, unsatisfied? Women would kill to be in my shoes.

So, are you a lesbian?

The question moves to the left and greets the face I saw in my dreams four years ago. As a rule, I don’t remember my dreams. I wake up in a mood, crying, laughing, terrified, but as soon as my eyes are open, the reasons fade. Usually it’s a relief. But that night, as I drifted somewhere ahead of sleep, her face appeared before my closed eyes…exquisite cocoa skin, smiling eyes, dark hair caught in a breeze, framing her face. “Who is that?” I asked.

“That? Oh that’s your future partner,” a voice answered as if I had simply asked for the time.

“Mine?” I asked. Not surprised that she was a she, but breathless that something so perfect could be just for me.

“All yours.”

The day I kissed a woman for the first time, wrapped my arms and legs around her, allowed my body to press against the softness of hers…my world shifted. And later, when I realized that I could and did love a woman in a way that was beyond anything I had ever thought possible…when I understood that the hallowed love people celebrate in songs and poetry was absolutely real…that was the day I realized the emptiness was gone. It took 40 years; but better late than never. 

So am I a lesbian? Am I claiming that label for myself, after 20 year of marriage and motherhood and living up to the expectations of everyone around me?  Yes. Hell yes.


About Felix Jay

I am Felix Jay, and I am gay as hell. Unfortunately, embracing this reality came after a 23-year relationship with a man, which included 12 years of marriage, and two children. This blog follows my journey to live my truth for the first time in my life, without devastating my family and losing my sanity in the process. Fully honest...completely authentic...and finally Felix.
This entry was posted in coming out, healing, honesty, Lesbian married to man, LGBT, questioning sexuality. Bookmark the permalink.

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