My Open Letters – The Third

Dear ——-,

I’m more comfortable with just being who I wanted to be. I’m not afraid to wear heels, or skirts, even to work. I thought I’d see a bigger backlash, but I’m glad for what I got. Really, I’m incredibly lucky and have a far easier life than many other people I know that have dealt with the same identity problems I’ve been dealing with.

I know, it’s kind of a touchy subject between us. I usually avoided talking about it because I always got the notion that either you just didn’t care about that aspect of me, or you weren’t comfortable with how you felt about trying to handle it.

I know, screwing with gender screws with a lot of people. I do remember having a conversation about it though at some point. The main question I remember asking you was about how you would feel with being taken as being in what much of society would call a lesbian relationship, since you’ve had those very words thrown at you before with you and one of your friends. I wanted to kiss you with your response, and with so many other responses you gave around this whole situation.

You were amazing when it came to gender and sexuality. Respectful, honest, and open. And maybe, looking back at it, it was really me that found it to be a touchy subject. You accepted me better than many people in some of the LGBT communities did. And that has a big impact for me.

It showed me you have a lot of love, and somewhere near the end of our moments I remember you even said specifically that maybe you were part gay because of being in a relationship with me. And that phrase made me so happy, and yet makes me feel so terrible now. Here you were, accepting all my craziness and following along with me without tacking on labels, and yet I couldn’t extend the same courtesy to you. I couldn’t give you your space to let you figure out things as you needed and wanted to. Instead I kept shoving books and ideas, and stories onto you. And I wonder how much of that might have made things worse. Forcing you into things you weren’t ready to handle, when you hadn’t forced me into things I wasn’t ready to handle.

Really, the more I look back. The more I see so many of our moments that I was disrespectful, wrong, stupid, and in some cases downright mean. I remember a few times where I totally brought you down when it was your moment to shine. But there are two moments in particular that stand out.

The first interview you had with your job when we were taking our regular walks. I did and said everything I could think of to try to make you not quite so nervous about the interview, and you thanked me for it and seemed genuinely glad and I think I even remember you saying that I was able to handle your pre-interview freak out well. I can’t even really remember the specifics of what I’d done, but I know it didn’t entail any of what I did the second time you had an interview with your job and we were no longer taking our regular walks.

The second time I remember I just kept saying you definitely had the job. I kept saying that, I know because it got to the point that it pissed you off. But mostly I kept saying it because it was different. You didn’t bother saying to me you were nervous, and I guessed you were, but since you didn’t say it I wasn’t sure if that meant you even wanted me to help settle your nerves, or if you even had any nerves going that time. It didn’t help that we had a conversation recently about you needing your space, especially at work, and I didn’t know what to do in that situation. I’m just sure I made things worse.

Especially afterwards, when I gloated about being right with you getting the job. I was horrible that day, I think I even said I was at some point. I’m not even sure how I made you feel that day because I never got the chance to really communicate with you about it. But it was definitely one of those moments where my complex or even just my know-it-all-ness kind of just helped put a further screw between us. We both already knew I was a terrible person, but I get the feeling I made you feel a little like shit and like I was trying to take your moment away. I wasn’t, but I really don’t know what I was trying to do. It just kind of all came out, like vomit, before I could think about what i was doing or why I was doing it (or get to a toilet).

But if that’s my natural state, what I just do without thinking about it. I’m way worse than I thought. To be that horrible to someone I’m supposed to care about and love? That’s something I only see in shows, or fiction. It’s like combining every possible negative person or persona you could think of and rolling it all into one. Psychology actually has a theory for it. A theory that actually touches on everyone, but I can definitely see to be true in some of my actions.

When a person is given a choice. They make the drama choice. That is, the choice that is going to cause the most drama in their life, or let them be the most dramatic in their life. I could have gone for silence that day, I could have just said ‘good luck and do your best because you deserve it’, or hell I could have even asked if you were feeling nervous about the interview and if you wanted to talk. And you know what I did? I choose to keep telling you all day long that you had this job, and I think I even told you reasons why you were going to get it. I chose the most annoying option that would almost guarantee a dramatic reaction. Or at least guarantee drama to occur between us.

And this isn’t the only time I’ve made that choice.

It’s thinking of things like these that make me realize exactly why you ignore me. Exactly why we don’t talk. I’m not just a terrible person. I’m exactly the kind of person that every advice columnist would say to get far away from. You made a choice to be happy, and when you choose to be happy, you cut off the people who make you miserable, or tear you down. I can’t blame you for cutting off me. I really can’t.

I’d have done the same.

Signed,

The Imp

P. S. Terra says Hi