And what time is that? It’s Pride month in Chicago. I can almost taste the rainbows, people.
What’s significant about this year’s Pride month is that it marks the one-year anniversary of my awareness of being attracted to women. I remember how it happened: the dream, the girl on the train, the timid viewing of some lesbian-themed movies, the noticing of hotness everywhere around me like the sudden awareness of sunshine or color – precipitated by some deep-rooted but dormant part of my psyche that had stayed hidden until then. All of that happened, and then suddenly my boyfriend and I were drowning in traffic the 3rd week of June and he exclaimed, “Goddamn it, the Pride parade is today. I completely forgot.”
Pride. I tested the word in my mind, in my mouth, aloud to my ears. I had never attached any significance to the word before now. And now, suddenly, it implicated me in a way I never thought possible. I was one of them. All those floats, the glitter and tears, the hooking up, the impossibility of driving a car let alone parking it for a few entire neighborhoods, all of that had to do with the feelings that were rising in me like a hurricane.
Next year, I thought, I’m going to drag Mark and Rose to this thing. Who knows, it might be fun.
I also thought, if by next year Pride month rolls around and I am still feeling these feelings, I will know it’s not a phase. I will know it’s for real. I will know that my sexual orientation is most definitely NOT straight.
Well, here it is, people. I’m still feeling these feelings. So I guess that seals the deal: I like women. I’m officially queer. LMAO.
The timing of everything was quite unfortunate. If I had been single a month or two sooner, if I had somehow been able to make some gay friends from inside the walls of my family’s house or figured out some creative way to meet other noobs attending Pride Fest for the first time, I would have gone this weekend. But I didn’t. I’m painfully shy and there is no way I’m navigating that huge glitter fest without a friend.
HOWEVER. If I did have to stay home this weekend, I spent it doing the most awesome thing I could have done: I bought a used car! I’m one more step closer to putting my life back together and moving out and getting out and coming out.
It’s a beautiful car – sleek, small, gunmetal. I’ve decided my car is also a lesbian. We’re going to have so many adventures together. (She already told me she’s way ahead of me in experience. I told her, challenge accepted.) I’m thinking of calling her Shane. What do you think, too cliché? 🙂