When Gay People Try to Choose Heterosexuality: My Story

When the love of my life dumped me for my brother, I was devastated. Long story. The year was 1975.


But thus began my decision, yes, being heterosexual is a CHOICE for some, to find a man and become normal. Many gay people do this--try to not be gay. I hope things have changed, but back then I bet 99% of gay people gave not being gay a shot.





Luckily, at 18 I seemed to suddenly become attractive to the male species. I started watching men, the hunk across the street, who washed his pick-up without a shirt, I'm pretty sure now that he was gay. I hung out with my cousin and trashed on gay people. I hung out with my hetro friend from school and her baby. I even asked my "love of my life" to find a man for me.





She did. His name was Sam. His hobby was Cameros. He took me to met his parents, they had a bungalow with an entire living room wall covered with a, er, picture/painting/wallpaper of the woods. I saw that and thought, "Diane, you have entered Hell." His parents loved me. His sister loved me. Within a few weeks he was talking marriage. I couldn't imagine my life of Hell, but maybe I just didn't get it. Kissing him was like kissing a wall and his conversations were all about his cars. I was going to be bored to death.





Then one day he drove me out into the depths of Indiana back roads, all dirt, and stopped his shiny Camaro. He pointed to a white house way out in a field, nothing around for miles.


With a huge smile on his face, he said, "Diane, one day we will have a place just like that!"


That was last time I ever saw him. (By my choice.)





Off I went to a new college, St. Francis, a private school, but I loved their beautiful campus and thought maybe I should just be a nun. (No, I wasn't Catholic.) They had a good drama program there and I quickly became the stage manager for a well-respected college director. maybe all the God-fearing people were right and maybe God would save my gay soul on this heavenly campus.





First, let me say, except for gay bars and a women's golf tournament I was a security guard at, I had never been in a place with so many lesbians as that college! From the jocks on the basketball team to the novice nun's whose dorm rooms I cleaned, as part of my work-study job, it was Lesbos nation. And not one of them ever gave me a second look.





Waiting for class, one fair Fall day, I watched a blind student get off the city bus. I thought, "I would date him. I get a good vibe from him." He never gave me, no pun intended, a second look. But, unbeknownst to me, another student had his eye on me---big time.





His name was Dale and he was that guy who raises his hand at every question, knowing the answer to perfection. After finding no true love at St. Francis (and THAT was my goal from age 13 on), I quit and took a job with the U.S. Postal service. Walking through the break room during my first week, a man called out, "Hi."





He was eating alone at a lunch table. Okay, I am supposed to be friendly. "Hi." He then invited me to sit with him.





"Do you remember me?" he asked. I didn't. It turned out he was Dale and he proceeded to court me and say he loved me at first sight in that St. Francis classroom. We would meet for breaks and in his car among all the other employee cars, the scent of pot filling the air, he asked if he could kiss me.





Okay, this could be the ONE, I thought. He was not unattractive looking, a former school football player, VERY intelligent, and he was crazy about me. He was about 7 years older than me and owned his own house. He put his arm around me, "I know if you don't like this kiss it is all over." I reassured him, hey, it is just one kiss.





He was right. That kiss was like kissing a dead frog. Was this to be my life? No more sparks? No more hair standing on end excitement? Still...he was much better than Sam, maybe this is how it is with men and women, maybe it will get better.





We worked the night shift and met to walk to a nearby McDonald's for a burger. On the way he told me he was married! "You probably wonder why I speak of going to movies alone. It is because she is legally blind." Legally blind...I would not understand what that meant for 11 years, and them I would wonder: Did his wife have MS too?





He went on to say he had 3 kids, he married his wife when she got pregnant after high school and he planned to divorce her. My disgusting father's life was being thrust on me. I, in an instant, became "the other woman." Kill me now.





The big secret was on me, every other employee knew and were gossiping like crazy about us. Dale met my family, they liked him, he looked very much like my oldest brother who I despised. Yep, the perfect storm. UGH and ICK, but he asked me to marry him and I thought his smart genes and similar looks to mine would make for a terrific baby. I took it to the village vote.





Cousin Virginia said I HAD to marry him. (His being married was not mentioned by me.) She was very lonely after her husband died, and, "You don't want to end up without a man!"





My mom kept very quiet.





Aunt Vi was supportive, "It's your decision, but I've been fine without a man."





My younger brother just made smart ass jokes as was his M.O., until Mom spoke up with anger, "Your sister is asking for your advice!"





In his slow, deep, serious drawl he said, "Don't marry him unless you love him." (Deep, cough.)





I left racked with confusion. Later at home I said to my mom, "Mom, I just think I won't be able to stop wanting something else." (A line said much better in The Thorn Birds.)





"Then don't DO it." she replied. And that was all I ever said about him.





But, we had exchanged rings, I went on birth control, bought a full-size bed, and invited him over for the night. I played romantic music. He took a shower. I walked into the bathroom after he was done and he had said, "I've never taken a bath before!" (Huh? He meant only showers.)


The bathroom had water EVERYWHERE, it was a mess! DIANE, wake up! You plan to live with your mother AND father? An adulterer and a mess?





He saw I was displeased and swept me up in his arms, "I'll do better next time." No romantic music in the world was going to make this guy attractive to me now. I had to end it.





The next day I was headed out to visit my best friend. Dale insisted that I stay with him. INSISTED??? Seriously? "If you go, I won't be here when you come back." a THREAT? Seriously? Wow, this man didn't know me at all. Even though he said he had cut out pictures of ME for years and then he FOUND me at St. Francis. (Ok, dude, just freaky now.) Several things I had let pass with him. He spoke of building a home underground, which I found intriguing; but then he took me to "The Parade of Homes," a bunch expensive suburban houses and said ala, Camaro Sam, "One day this will all be yours." ICK UGH YUCK





I left and on return his keys to my apt. were sitting on the porch. I then did something very profound. Straight through my apt. I walked in wide strides, and straight out the back door, down the stairs, through the yard, into the alley, across the next street and as I reached the "missing eye ball" alley (Stop right here, if you are an avid reader of my blog, you know what this means. OK, fine, see, when I was a kid, some man apparently lost his glass eye in that grass alley; my brothers used to try and scare me by saying it was an eye, so I always was on alert whenever that path was taken. Now I think it was just an urban myth.) I began throwing and tearing off anything attached to me. My rings, watch, wallet, glasses, coins, keys, all went flying. I WANTED to strip naked, but was starting to cool down. If you don't understand why I did this, then just read Freud.

On my walk back towards home, I collected all the discarded items I could find. But I felt free. No more choosing an unnatural life for me. I would rather not exist than live being something I'm not.

Before going into my home, I sat on the back steps, looking at the old, dirty, peeling paint on the old, dirty, broken stairs. Where would I find that person who would make me want to live again, make sparks within me? Maybe I would be alone the rest of my life. I was twenty. My world felt bleak, but at least I would live an honest life. The nasty stairs were my mother's baggage.

The next day a letter from Dale was left at my door. He accused me of being a quitter. He said I would end up just like my mom, aunt, and those women, playing cards, never leaving Ft. Wayne and never amounting to a thing. Oooooo, THAT was the final straw. The thought of being old and playing cards all day was appealing to me, plus, I would NOT take that path.

So that was my attempt at being heterosexual. What? If I had just found the right guy? Really? Well, I made my choice to be happy, to be true to my nature, to not settle. When gay people chose to be not gay, it never has a happy ending. No matter how they spin it, in the dark of the night, alone with their brains, they are wondering---could I have been happy if...