I want to set the record straight at the start. Though I'm reasonably certain I'd been gay my entire life, that wasn't how my life had gone. Those who believe in fate would say that apparently wasn't the life I was meant to live. That my wants and desires had been subverted by whatever cosmic entity guides the universe. That in the river of life we all float down I never reached my intended destination because my craft was inundated and washed away down another branch of the river.
Now I'll pretend you're Detective Joe Friday and just give you the facts. After hearing them and reading my story it will be up to you, the reader, to decide on your own what you think of me. There won't be anything I can do about the conclusions you reach. They'll be formed by your own experiences and biases as much as they will the information I give you. So I can only tell my tale and let you decide for yourself.
I can tell you that after being happily married for twenty-eight years, okay mostly happy because nothing is ever perfect, I had my first lesbian experience at the tender age of forty-eight. Yes, I was married when it occurred and a mother of two fully grown young men and a grandmother of two darling little granddaughters. But there's a story there so don't be too quick to judge.
I knew I was gay in my early teens. Or at least that's the way it seemed to me. After all, I was only attracted to girls during that early period of my life so I had no reason to expect otherwise. That was something I had to keep to myself because things back then weren't the way they are today. People weren't as accepting of homosexuality. Being labeled as such could have a profoundly negative effect on ones life. Particularly if you were raised in my area of the country and by my parents. Though in most aspects they were good people, they were terribly bigoted when the subject of gays and lesbians were brought up. Despite that I loved my parents. They were good to me in all other respects. I never wanted for anything I truly needed and always had their support in every other aspect of my life.
I was hardly a social butterfly during my teen years. Not being attracted to the boys I was surrounded by, dating was a non-issue for me. When most girls my age started dating I was spending my time locked in my room reading book after book. My parents just assumed I was painfully shy, a belief I never tried to dissuade them from. It kept me mostly safe from their attempts to set me up with whatever boy they found acceptable to receive my attention. That's not to say my mother didn't occasionally try to make things happen by placing me in awkward set-up type situations. Fortunately for me, I was always able to discourage said boys interests in me by being generally off putting.
Eventually she seemed to give up any notions of helping things along and left it to the hands of fate. That turned out to be a fortuitous thing for everyone involved.
My parents raised five kids and it was made clear to all of us at an early age that if we expected to go to college that we'd have to fund it ourselves. They were more than happy to help us monetarily as they could, once we'd secured the funds for our tuition. It was up to us however to work to make that happen. As a result, those of us kids that wanted an education post high-school, had to work for several years while living at home to raise the funds. That's what I was doing post graduation when I met a young man named Robert.
I was working full time as a secretary at my fathers accounting firm at eighteen when he hired Robert just out of college as a new accountant. I'd always been able to objectively determine whether or not a man was attractive looking or not. Just because I believed myself incapable of having romantic or sexual feelings towards the male of the species didn't mean I couldn't appreciate their form. Robert was one of those guys that even a lesbian would have no problem admitting was a handsome specimen.
For the first few months I paid him little mind though I did notice he was considerably less irritating than the boys I'd gone to high-school with. At twenty-four he was of course, far more mature acting. Over time I began to notice his other redeeming qualities. He was a compassionate type person always willing to help someone in need. Even if it meant setting aside things important to him. He was also very outgoing and friendly. He never seemed to struggle to find common ground with the people he met, making friends very easily. Robert was also a tirelessly hard worker. He wasn't one opposed to putting in extra hours to see to it his job was done and on time. He also never seemed to balk at the idea of helping others with their load when he was caught up. He loved animals, a trait I always found important in judging the quality of one's humanity. He owned an Irish Setter named Rascal who frequently accompanied him to the office. The dog would sit quietly behind his desk as he worked. He was such a calm animal most customers never even knew he was there.
It was for those reasons and the fact I wanted to please my parents that when Robert asked me out for dinner, I accepted his offer. Just six months before my nineteenth birthday I finally went on my first date.
I must admit that I was surprised to find I actually did enjoy myself. Robert was easy to talk to as well as being intelligent and well read enough to be able to carry on a conversation. He had a good sense of humor that wasn't sophomoric or dirty in nature. He was also clearly empathetic to others which helped make him a good listener. He allowed me to choose the restaurant we ate at and acted very gentlemanly the whole time. When we were finished eating we decided to finish our date by picking up Rascal from his place and taking him for a walk in the park. We walked and talked for more than an hour enjoying the beautiful summer evening. When the night was over he and Rascal took me home and escorted me to our front door. I was relieved when he didn't try to kiss me goodnight. Strangely enough I was also pleased when he told me he'd really like to take me out again.
I accepted his invitation.
After we were married he told me that my father had suggested to him when we first started dating that he needed to take things slow. He'd told Robert that I seemed painfully shy at times and would likely bolt if he pushed me to quickly. My dad had been right. Had he been to aggressive to soon I would have likely put a stop to the relationship. As is it was though he was remarkably patient with me and allowed my feelings for him to grow. For the first month we dated I saw him as just a good friend and a way to keep my parents off my back. That wasn't really fair to him in retrospect but I was still young and entitled enough to be a bit self absorbed. Over time and to my great surprise, I began to have romantic feelings for him.
It wasn't until our sixth date that I allowed him to kiss me for the first time. Until them our "romance" had consisted solely of hand holding and the occasional hug. That is of course slow even by standards then. By standards today where kids are hooking up a half-hour after they first meet it would be considered glacial. I think a part of what finally drew me to him was that remarkable patience he showed me. I remember thinking how much he must have truly cared for me to be so obsequious towards me. Everything centered on what I wanted and making me happy and in time his nature won me over.
When we'd been together perhaps six months I realized that I might be in love with him. Yes I was still attracted to the beautiful women I encountered around me. However, I found myself thinking less and less about that aspect of my sexuality.
On the one year anniversary of our first date he took me to that same restaurant. Afterwards, we once again went and picked up Rascal and took him for a walk in the park. It was there by the lake under a setting sun that he got down on one knee and proposed to me. With little thought to how I once believed my life would end up, I agreed to marry him.
