I’m still stuck on this surprise party thing. I mean, yes – I don’t like surprise parties. Everyone knows that (except for my friends throwing this for me, apparently). But why I am so over-the-top stressed about it?
Sometimes I can’t believe that all roads lead back to me not being completely honest with the people in my life. I always seem to end up here, looking at the same issue, knowing what the answer is, and yet still afraid to take the next step.
Perhaps for my birthday I need to ask for, like the Lion in the Wizard of Oz, a little courage.
Sure, not everyone needs to know I’m gay. In the same way that friends lose touch and stop sharing details, it’s not important to me – or to them – to know even the big things in my life anymore. But there are plenty of people out there (hello, family!) who I’m short-changing by not being myself.
I said it before, I’m very much a black and white, on or off, love sushi or eat-raw-fish-you’ve-got-to-be-joking kind of person. I generally don’t do the middle ground very well, and only being out to some people makes my life difficult. I have to remember who knows what, and what details I’ve made public and even so much as to keep in mind strings of relationships: sally knows jane who knows betty who lives where my sister does and they occasionally run into each other. And mind you, I’m not a details kind of person.
So to be tossed into this situation where I’ve constantly got to keep track of the who’s who in my life – while, likely, imbibing in a few adult beverages – might prove to be a rather stressful challenge. Perhaps I can hand out name tags with descriptions like, “Hi, I’m J and I know Laura’s secret” as I see them at the party? With my luck I’d be accused to running a pyramid money-making scheme.
Anyway, this stress has got to stop somewhere. Perhaps a drunken announcement at the surprise party would REALLY make it a surprise party. Heh. My friends might get what they’re asking for! And more! Kind of like two surprises for the price of one admission.
The discord between my two lives – straight girl and gay girl – is just becoming more pronounced as time moves on and as I make further forays into the chick world. Sometimes its hard keeping track of whether I’m coming or going, even. I spend endless energy making sure that I don’t slip and tell someone about somewhere I went (on a date) or mention someone new that I’d have to explain how I met them. It’s exhausting, really.
If anyone were actually reading this, I’m guessing I’d be getting comments that were virtual smacks to the head: just do it!
I know. Really- I know.