Using Love

Oy. I have been involved with the same woman, off and on, for almost three years. She is not one of my people, not part of “The Gay,” and so we keep our relations semi-discreet. I try not to talk about her too much, try not to write anything too true, too damning, but there are times, like tonight, where I can think of nothing else. My apologies, but I’m not feeling particularly hilarious right now—too much on my mind.

One, singular thing prompted me to come Out: Love. Long, long ago (four years and one month), in a galaxy far, far away (60 blocks up and all the way across town), I tumbled into love with another girl and nothing in my life has been the same since. Once upon a time I believed in fairy tales. I thought the reason I had never been interested in boys was because there would be only one, my white knight, on a big horse, my savior. So, when my heart first sang for a girl, I had a crisis of epic, cartoon proportions. I could not keep a lid on my can of effervescing emotions and soon it exploded with joy for this wonderful woman. I told everyone I knew, I shouted from the rooftops that I fell for the most wonderful, wonderful girl—and I was certain she had fallen for me in equal turn. I introduced her to friends, family etc and heard my heart pumping blood to my ears every moment of the day while she whispered into them for three incredible months. Once I had released the secret to my family (who, considering the Catholic, Conservative roots, took it quite well); once I had begun to deal with the death of my fairy tale dreams and attempt to embrace my newfound fairy princess, everything changed. Through a series of unfortunate conversations, I came to realize that she had been lying to me, that she was in fact engaged to spend her life with another woman, whom she lived with. Needless to say, that woman and I had a rough summer coming to terms with the respective ends of our relationships to the very same girl.

By some strange twist of fate, that woman became my mentor, and eventually my lover. I need not explain here, the disastrous nature of that relationship. Aside from our mutual love of the same woman, she and I shared an intense, passionate affection for alcohol…and screaming matches.

When that came to a violent halt, I maintained my love for the drink and stumbled in and out of week-long affairs to forget. I stupidly slept with friends, made out with coworkers, and found myself heavy under the dark waters of depression.

Then one day I made a straight friend. She had been lurking on the periphery of my lesbo drama for what seemed like a lifetime (in reality only eighteen months or so) and had seen enough. In a way, she was my lifeguard. She threw me the floatie-ring and blew the whistle on all the rowdy girls splashing in my face, preventing me from catching my breath. It was at this point, I got out of the pool. In the 1980’s movie-version of my life, I pretend to drown a little, and then trick her into kissing me (though the reality of it was we got drunk at a Halloween party and ended up making out on the dance-floor…eh, less cute). But this, of course, brought with it, another set of problems. And after almost three years of late-night booty-calls, awkward mornings where we dare not discuss our “feelings”—straight girls don’t have them for other women—and LONG periods of the silent treatment, I find myself quite justifiably unsatisfied.

I had a realization this week that I will share with you in the hopes that I might help someone else find their way out of this very predicament. I have used this doomed situation to insulate myself from further heartache and disappointment from the lesbian community. My straight girl will never cheat on me because we’re not really together. We talk once in a while, we see each other less than that. My straight girl will never fall out of love with me because we’re not really in love—she can’t be, she’s striaght. She will always give me exactly what I expect—not a whole lot. I have used her as my safety blanket. I have used her as my default girl. I have used her as a booty call, a practice partner, and an object of my affection. I want to love someone who’s not going to hurt, humiliate, or hate me in return. So I love her with all my heart, mostly because I’m not really willing to risk my love on anything less predictable. I still get excited when I see a text from her. I still respect her, admire her, etc. I feel priveleged to even know this person, and I am honored to remain a part of her life. But lately, I've been growing increasingly more disenchanted with myself. I don’t want to use my straight girl any more. I don’t want to use her for sex or companionship, or a half-assed substitute for a real girlfriend. I don’t want to use her at all.

…But then, as Tennessee Williams said: “Everybody uses everybody. And that’s what love is.”