Last night was a bad night’s sleep. So much on my mind, maybe a “rebound” from the Ambien induced slumber of the night before, and maybe just the wrong bed. You see my son has returned from six months of travel. It was an easy airport pickup, a great afternoon, a successful coming out and then off to bed. He is my son and my little bedroom is quiet and comfortable. I opt for the futon. Not so comfortable.
Lunch at work with my hood today – the two people I will tell: sooner than later. Tell of the basement, tell of the marriage in tatters and yes, tell of the gay. One of them is tired also – a night with a sick child. We compare notes and as she tells of her night, I form my thoughts, my next sentence. “I gave up my bed for my son; I slept on that hard futon.”
It strikes me before I speak, barely. They do not know of the basement, the failed marriage, the gayness. They think all is well in paradise. My mind is numb from the thought of the conversation that almost was. “What, you and Carrie gave the kid the master bedroom? Hellooooo”
The thing is that I have built my life, my whole persona on being open and honest. These two work friends have lived through so much with me – they know about the basement and Anna and Bill, they know of the wedding which was and the one which was not. When there have been other troubles, we have talked, we have shared.
And now, this: reduced to being in terror about a simple statement of my life, reduced to living a lie that goes so far beyond the gay. Is my sex life anyone’s business? We all know the answer to that – it is my personal affair. But to be fostering a false world, a marriage with the reality of cutout figures. No.
The thing is that there is no way to really explain the state of the marriage, the continued sharing of the house, the obvious fondness for my wife, without addressing the underlying cause – the gayness.
It is clear that over the next few months, it is time to sit with my friends – quietly, away from the office – and softly tell the truth instead of just waiting for the inevitable slip.
I am not ready for that moment but as with so much else of late, it is no longer a question of when I am ready.
Yes indeed, the times they are a' changing.