There isn’t much I remember about coming-out; because, it’s a pretty darn boring narrative. I had “the talk” with my mom when I was about 15 and it was lackluster and very drama free. There were some mildly inappropriate questions, some sneers and jeers, but definitely, no polished bells and shiny whistles. I do thank my mom for being; well, not supportive and understanding, but, respectful.  Due, in part, to my own deceit, however insightful it was to be.

Yes, I stepped out of the closet, went across the hall, and got right into another closet. I told my mother I was bisexual. At the time, I didn’t think I was, but I felt as if it were the safer, less threatening option. Much milder than a LESBIAN, being bisexual, there was still some hope, some possibility that I might change my mind, come back from the dark side, grow out of this phase I was going through. I could still be in the hetero-club, half-way, but still in. There was a chance of normalcy for me, yet.

What she didn’t know was I had no plans of looking back…at a man. The natural progression for me would be to spend my life, exclusively, with a woman. After high-school, I was well, well on my way. My first long-term relationship was with a magnificent lady. She was everything on your checklist… that type – the prototype type. But it didn’t work out. Fast forward to just after my first broken heart, and voila, I meet the guy of my dreams!

Whoa, Nellie!  Was he ever! Smart, articulate, ambitious, la Boehme, and he was an artist. He was almost everything on my checklist…but he was a he. Needless to say, I got over it, and so many children later, it didn’t work out.

So, in talking with my favorite girl, mi madre, on the possibility of well, setting out the line, and seeing what one could reel in, in these shallow waters, I realized, as the conversation unfolded, she thought I had been rehabilitated. Phased-out as planned!  Without encumbering you with the details, I felt so ashamed, in that moment, I didn’t correct her; I couldn’t tell her. Besides, what harm would it be to let her believe what she will, especially if it would cause less conflict? Who am I to skew her vision of how she see’s, or would like to see, me? Why do I care?

I left it alone for a few months, but it never left me. I am no coward. I don’t run. I don’t turn away. I do want things to be peaceful, and serene, and will look towards the option that best provides this outcome, but, this, I could not let go. Because more than anything, and this could be my age upon me, I want to be seen as I am. To be respected for the person that I am, today, what ever I may be. With that spirit, I declared: I am BISEXUAL. I have a healthy, unbridled, equal affinity for women… and a man. I am big and full with this realization. Nothing can hold me, especially a closet.   

 So here’s to dressers in our homes, hampers and totes, suitcases, maybe a wardrobe, but certainly no more closets!