At dinner this evening the conversation somehow turned to my brother being a teenager and such (he's fourteen), and "Before long you're going to start dating!" Which led me to laugh, "Wonder who's going to start dating first, you or me?" Which led to Mom saying something like "Yeah, all of a sudden MacAvity's going to have a driver's license, and a boyfriend..."
And I didn't say anything about it until maybe half an hour later.
I guess I didn't really believe I was more out than that. But it was still a little disturbing seeing how not-out I really was. That Mom would assume without hesitation that when I start dating it'll be a boyfriend, and that I wouldn't say anything immediately. How difficult it was to bring it up at all.
The conversation didn't go too brilliantly from there, either. She wasn't surprised or anything - of course she remembered what all happened two years ago with Grey and all. But I know she hasn't heard much of anything since then, except maybe at some point we talked about asexuality and I know recently I've mentioned Leah and me 'giggling' and 'fangirling' over Mat Baynton, who is a man. So it makes perfect sense what she assumed or thought she knew or knew she didn't know about my sexuality - that's just not something you share details about with your mother.
But it was clear she'd rather I just be straight. "Life is easier when you're heterosexual," she says. Along with all that but-you-are-who-you-are-and-that's-fine-with-me.
Nor did she seem to understand that being bi actually increases the pool of possibilities. "Not knowing whether you want a girl or a guy probably makes it harder too," she said.
"It's not not knowing, it's more being open to both possibilities," I explained.
"People might mistake that for confusion though. You might have to choose, This year I'm going for guys. This year I'm going for girls."
No, that's not how that works. That's not how that works at all. It's not like anyone's going to reject a guy, 'No, I'm a lesbian this year, too bad you didn't catch me last year, try again next year...' It's not like anyone's even going to be there for the rejecting. "I can't see either of those becoming relevant, honestly!"
I expressed my frustration at the none whatsoever - "I don't really have the time or the desire for a relationship now, but it's just kind of... invalidating, that it's never happened." I'm happy enough being single, what I don't like is that I've been single my whole life.
She tried to advise me as to how to end the none whatsoever. Pretty much the same advice as Leah tried, except with more 'Be a girl!' in it. Actually not too similar to Leah's advice at all, come to think of it. "Open up," she says. Seem more available, less aloof.
"Maybe try having Leah or Regi dress you for one class per week," she says. "You dress like an eighteenth-century gentleman or something, which is your style, and that's cool, but..." ...something about how that doesn't invite people to want to date you, so maybe try dressing a little more like a twenty-first century girl.
There are so many things wrong with this statement.
- In the eighteenth century, wigs and knee-breeches were still very much the fashion. A waistcoat and trousers does not mean that I dress like an eighteenth-century gentleman. Not that eighteenth-century gentlemen's clothes aren't absolutely gorgeous (they are), but I certainly wouldn't be able to get away with dressing like that - the waistcoat is unusual enough these days.
- I've never met a woman who doesn't want an eighteenth-century gentleman. (Well, okay, never isn't entirely true...) Mr Darcy - a few years after the eighteenth century ended, I admit, but close enough - is one of the most desired men ever, so.... (Also Georgian Willbond. The Bond Girls go crazy for Georgian Willbond, even more than for Twenty-First-Century Willbond.)
- If I were to dress like a twenty-first century girl, I would be far more awkward/inconspicuous/closed/unattractive than I am now. Nothing wrong with normal, but looking more normal is not a way to attract attention, and girl clothes inescapably make me close up my posture and draw into a meek quietness and become super duper awkward. In my waistcoat at least I can feel handsome and confident and devil-may-care, even if that doesn't always carry over to speaking.
Blah blah blah blah.
Regardless. Maternal awareness raised, so.... I don't know. Closets are persistent beasties. I've been deliberately closeted to my family about the whole gender thing, and the bathrooms and all, but I had at least hoped I was being open about orientation stuff.
Doesn't change anything.