By Bee | 06.06.12

6 Jun

Though the conclusion I have laboured towards for years is finally coming to fruition, I am filled not with satisfaction but with a stark loneliness that makes my throat ache. There’s a small part of me which can’t wait to meet the woman of my dreams, but the rest of me is convinced that she simply does not exist. I’ve been to LGBT society meetings, to fund-raising events and pride parades and gay bars and motivational speeches by political activists. I move with and alongside the people who are supposed to be my adopted family; I talk to them, smile at them, listen to their conversations. I try to find myself reflected in their faces. I sit among them, and I feel more alone than ever.

I hate stereotypes, but there seems to be some truth in the cliché: most of the lesbians I’ve met are brash and aggressive, or else student types who are obsessed with partying, smoking, and drinking. Finding someone my age who will celebrate and share my hobbit-like appreciation for creature comforts, family picnics, home baking, and stacks of science fiction novels seems damn near impossible.

I may be leaving the heterosexual fold, but my dreams are still hopelessly romantic. I don’t want to meet some random woman in a bar, where the only thing everyone seems to have in common is their remarkable ability to get inebriated. I want to meet a woman who is interesting, and interested – someone who has soft edges and hard opinions and a voice that I can climb like rope. I don’t want to date a woman who’s tolerant of my son. I want to date a woman who adores him. I don’t want to have casual sex or play the field or have ‘friends with benefits’. I want to fall in love, get down on one knee, have a beautiful wedding with a gorgeous white dress. I don’t want a one-night stand.

I want a family.

Up until recently, I thought the only way to get that was to be straight. Now that I know differently, I ache for her – the nameless, faceless ‘her’ I haven’t met yet. The thought that I might never meet this woman makes my chest feel full of broken glass. I am giving up so much. What if I never find her? What if she doesn’t exist?

What if causing all this pain is not even worth it?

4 Responses to “Family”

  1. Sarah 06. Jun, 2012 at 08:17 #

    I very much remember all of these same feelings. Even now I sometimes wake up with a panicky “what if I made a mistake?” feeling of dread. (Which is utterly ridiculous at this point in my life, but also understandable, given the huge resistance I’ve had to overcome in becoming myself.)

    It is worth it. It is worth it because you are becoming yourself. It is worth it because you will grow in your love for yourself, and in loving yourself in a bigger way each day, and trusting your instincts, you’ll find your people. It might happen slowly, or all at once, but it will happen. xoxo

  2. K 07. Jun, 2012 at 20:49 #

    I’ve followed this blog for quite some time and so appreciate the manner in which you are able to articulate yourself. Thank you for that! I am in the same boat. I could have written this post from the bow of that boat as I continue to sail forward on this journey. Keep sailing, with hopes that you will find her before you reach that final horizon. Overboard is not an option! Sending you a virtual life preserver! K.

  3. wendy 17. Aug, 2012 at 22:41 #

    this is amazing… i SO remember being in that state…. that tough ambiguous state which feels like “oh, awesome… i took off the itchy suit… and but… wait… i feel so vulnerable now.. real in my own skin and utterly terrified, when i’m not ecstatic”. i am happy to be on the other side of that sentence now… engaged to a wonderful, thoughtful, brave and challenging woman who loves ME and our beautiful children… i couldn’t be more surprised. i am mostly surprised it happened as quickly as it did for me… sometimes i secretly wish that it took a bit longer… enjoy the single thing. <3

  4. K_M 10. Jul, 2013 at 09:00 #

    I am just now finding this blog, but as I read your words it might as well be me writing it (although I would certainly not be so eloquent as you). I am in the midst of an identical journey and feel so very, very stuck. I wish you all the best and urge you to never give up. Thank you for sharing your words and yourself; it’s beyond encouraging to know that I’m not alone.

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