I betcha you can’t tell my type. I mean she’s only been on my blog a million times now!
I think I confused some of you with my blog the other day. So I thought I would clarify.
The older I get, the more I seem to be looking backward over my life and the choices I’ve made. Some of them were good. Some of them were bad. Some of them didn’t seem like choices at all until I looked back on them in retrospect.
For instance… Coming out of the closet, good.
Being honest with Brian about my desires, good.
Exploring myself and new found desires, deeeeeefinitely good.
I do not look back at the sexual maturation of the past year in disappointment.
I have, however, been feeling lately like perhaps when I began looking for a relationship with a woman inside the context of my heterosexual marriage I did not step out of the closet as I first thought. Instead I just cracked open the bi-fold door to my closet and began peering at the outside world through the tiny sliver in the door.
The light was exciting and blinding at first. So blinding that I ignored my surroundings, pushed my face up against the door and fooled myself into thinking I was free from the confines of my cell. But I wasn’t free. I was just a different type of trapped.
The reason I have been thinking these things lately is in part because of my newfound relationship with my mentor at work. She’s a lesbian. She’s married. She is completely open about her sexuality and her relationship with her wife. She is what I wish I could be.
And as I sit back weekly waiting for my mentoring session to begin I can’t help but compare myself to this woman sitting beside me. She has more courage than I have ever known. She has walked a path I’ve only glimpsed from the sidelines. She is amazing to me. She is, honestly, the person I wish I could be.
And I think more than anything this is where my little crush has come from… I’m not just responding to this self-assured woman’s personality. I’m jealous of her. I’m jealous of her life.
I do have a lot to be grateful for. I have two children that love me, for me. They wrap their arms around my neck each night as I tuck them into their beds and they whisper “I love you Mama, big as the sun…” into my ear. We love each other. We are here for each other. We are the family I could never regret.
I love them.
And I love Brian.
But sometimes, it feels like it is time to let go of this pretend “Happily Ever After.”