I still remember the days of thinking before I answered a question because I needed to make sure I didn't give anything away.
The other day at work, a co-worker told me that had I not told her I was gay she wouldn't have known, and I said, "I never said I was gay."
"You're not gay?"
No, I am gay, but I never 'said' it."
What I said, when we first met, was something about my partner Carlos; I say things like 'Carlos and I are going to vacation next week' or 'Carlos and i bought a new car.'
I reminded her that she doesn't have to introduce herself as straight and I don't introduce myself as gay. Just talking about our personal lives tells someone what our orientation is.
So, I know how you feel about not being careful what you say and how you say it.
It's a great thing.
Thats just exactly how I feel when questions about my personal life come up. The biggest query is the lack of the usual female items, makeup, carrying a purse, manicures, the refusal to wear a dress or wear heels. I hedge around the subject, finally ending up with a limp reply that hopefully foists their attention onto something else.
Having to hedge, prevaricate about, bothers me to no end. One is because I dont enjoy fibbing, and truthfully am quite bad at doing so. And two because each time I evade answering their question honestly, it hurts quite sharply.
I do feel that it is easier to work a same sex relationship into the conversation, than working trans-ness into the conversation. The only things I can come up with is when asked why I dont act like the usual female are: Well, typically guys dont wear/use ______. and Except for drag queens, wearing/using _______ isnt something guys do.
The library world is filled primarily with women. The few I have told when they work out what I'm telling them, jump right to this thought process.
1. Gill is a guy
2. Guys like girls
3. Does that mean Gill likes me "that" way?
So, then I get to come out to them again as gay.
And yes, Gill is my actual and true nickname. I'm keeping my pen last name, as it fits me well. Child of books.
I seem to be busting out all over, yeah?