I Will Not Make Adam Sandler a Wedding Cake

Ever since I  have been a part of the podcasting community, my life has changed due mostly to the people have come to know.  As it would happen, most of these people are gay men. From the beginning, I felt I somewhat understood their feelings of isolation from the so-called mainstream of society, the feeling of always being on the outside looking in. Even as a young person, I never thought being gay was a choice.  I just didn't understand it. As a straight girl, I would look at lesbians and could not understand what they saw in another woman.  There was nothing sexy about other women. I can remember aspiring to be like and admiring beautiful women but only in a competitive, judgmental sort of way. These chicks were the enemy because they want what I wanted.  And for me that meant having a man all to myself. No sharing. Now I didn't make a conscience decision to be jealous of prettier girls or hate them because they had the boyfriend I wanted. It was just there. An undeniable feeling that hosting that man's seed (ewwww) is what my hormones were telling me. Again, I never thought that, I just wanted to be close and kiss and smell the soft, warm spot on their neck.

I remember the first guy I was ever really crazy over. We dated for a short time. In hind site, I think he wanted somebody and I wanted him. Being a discrete teenager, he would bring me home and then we would proceed to  fog up the windows by making out in the driveway. Why was I not concerned about my parents looking out the window and seeing us. I didn't care. The drive was that strong. And things were happening to my body that came as a complete surprise to me. My mother would discuss with me how to handle my period but that was the end of any birds and the bees talk.  I was, however, aware that the worst thing that could happen to any young girl was to get pregnant. Side note, the first time I had sex I came prepared. It wasn't with this young fellow either. It was a year later. I came with condoms and spermicidal jelly. None of his swimmers were coming after my unsuspecting eggs. And then soon after my birth control was a diaphragm.. In case you don't know, a diaphragm was a popular method of birth control in the early 80's. This device was made of a flexible rubber material in the shape of a circle with a thicker out rim. The woman was  to put spermicidal jelly in the concave portion of the circle, fold it half, and then place it up into the vagina until you felt something that the doctor would equate to as a nose. This would create a "fort" to the entrance of the uterus and the spermicidal were the foot soldiers who would kill sperm that were on a suicide mission. Hmmm, it is as this point you might say to yourself, "This sounds like a hormone free option for birth control. No pill to remember everyday and you use as needed". Well, let me remind you what goes in, must come out. But not right away. Eight... eight frickin' hours later. Do yourself a favor and don't think about it too much. Suffice it to say, convenience comes with a price.

I tell you all this to reemphasize that the urge to procreate is so strong that you are willing to put up with all this gooey mess. Or you could do what lots and lots of my fellow heterosexuals do and wing it. I mean, come on. What are the chances that that particular night there will be a come hither egg just begging to get implanted by that one super human seed. Turns out pretty good! Numbers don't lie. People are having baby after baby but again, what are the chances, right? The woman's body is ready to up those odds because at the time of the month she is most fertile, she is feeling the most amorous. I can tell you that this is true based on personal data I have collected.  Again, this is nothing you think of consciously, it is just there. You know what you want and you know how to get it.

I will spare you the talk about the miracle of menstruation. You're welcome. So you have just spent some time thinking about what it means to have sex as heterosexual woman. Except for the pregnancy prevention, none of this is voluntary or a choice. Is it so hard to take those same impulses and urges and apply them to someone who is homosexual? Nope. Not at all. For that matter, aren't there better ways it identify and label people than their sexual preference. Just because something constitutes the majority of something doesn't make it right or the standard. Both Adam Sandler and Jeff Foxworthy are millionaire comedians and are popular with the masses, does that make it right? I enjoy the comic styling of Maria Bamford and Patton Oswalt, does that make me better than those folks, nope. We are different. Different can be all kinds of good.

Sex is so subjective and I don't get a lot of it. Whoever said heterosexual sex was such a beautiful thing anyway? Give me a break. I would like the discussion to turn to love, companionship, and taking the government out of our personal lives. Marriage is truly an antiquated notion of a misogynistic culture wherein women were viewed as property. The wedding ring started as a symbol of ownership.  How it has become a symbol of everlasting love, only the jewelry companies can answer. Besides, if I were to have to go through a messy divorce, so should everyone else. Now that is fair. And don't get me started on religion. Right wingers say the United States was created on Christian Values and being gay is an affront to those values. The truth is, the United States was created by a group of people, SOME who were seeking religious freedom from the Church of England, some who were looking for riches, and some who were indentured servants looking for a new start in life. The founding fathers were a group of land owning white men with the power and the influence to create a system of government that benefited other land owning white men. So quit rewriting history people to suit your own purposes people!

As I step off my soap box, I leave you with this. When I met my fellow podcasters, who happen to be mostly gay men, I knew in my heart I could empathize what they felt about growing up gay. I know now, our struggles are much different. I never felt like I had to put on an act or play games with pronouns. It really felt like I was on the outside looking in but I never walked into a room wondering, "Just who in here straight? And can I trust them with my secret?" I never thought I would get beat up for liking a boy. When I got married, I applied for the license and paid the associated fee. We got married in the church we wanted. Nobody told me they wouldn't make my wedding cake because they didn't believe in my heterosexual lifestyle. My parents put an announcement in the local paper about our wedding and were included in the sea of people who got married that week.  Can you take even 10 minutes out of your life and imagine if you had to fight for these rights? I say to all you heterosexual people, get over yourself, you ain't that special. But mostly I have learned I don't know what it felt like growing up gay but if it helps, I don't think it's fair and I don't think you deserved it and I can see how and why you think it is you against us because at every turn our collective culture has told you that. And that is just not right.

Get Me a Large Orange Julius Please

Even on my best of days, my head is a hectic place.  Much like mall on Saturday. The food court is full of Justin Bieber wannabe teenagers. The busy moms with their Aston Martin strollers are in a winner takes all battle with the senior citizen mall walkers for turf rights while the middle age women are looking for some self-esteem at Lane Bryant. And above it all are the wall of wailing babies and toddlers with snot washing their face and a Pamper clinging for dear life by one last tab. So you see what I am up against?

Right now I have the addition of copious amounts of mucus and sinus pressure. I have a sinus infection. The drama queen in me says that I am suffering from Lint Lung. This is a self-diagnosed condition wherein the patient is systematically overexposed to human and animal detritus, allergens, and just plain old dirt.  Right now it feels like the spiky points of tumble weeds are thrashing about my bronchial tubes with a switch blade. That's right, it's hurt when I cough. My right eye must still be sad over a Rom-Com it saw in 1984 because it won't stop weeping. And my sinuses, well, just say, my nose is having trouble keeping up. I am trying to paint you a picture of how I am feeling. Is it working? Can you feel my slight flush but somehow my skin is cool to the touch? I am tired but when I close my eyes I can't sleep. When I try to work around the house a little, I walk from room to room trying to remember why I came in there for the first place. 

This is my 3rd day of being home from work. The beauty of being self-employed is that when I call and tell my client I can't work that day, there is no supervisor telling me I need a doctor's note or that I will be getting written up for missing too many days. But when you have one employer, you only have to make one phone call. And though your supervisor may be audibly irritated for you making their job more difficult, once you push that "end call", that's it.  Now imagine if you worked for someone you could liken to your mother. Did you know that once you are mother, you can take those shame inducing abilities and apply it to situations outside of your own brood? It's true. Once you take the Erma Bombeck's course, "Guilt, The Gift That Keeps on Giving". (This is an actual quote of hers) you are free to make even the check out girl at the Piggly Wiggly feel like she forgot it was Mother's Day. At this point, you saying to yourself "Calm down Brenda, the whole world is NOT out to get you!". Oh, I know this on an intellectual level. Just tell that people pleaser drinking the Orange Julius in the Food Court. 

I first noticed how other people's mothers could make feel guilty as a child. If I was a friend's house and she was getting trouble for not having done the dishes; I think I got upset than she did. In medical terms, some experts say this is not having a strong sense of self or a childlike response to stress which your inclination is to make everything about them. Sounds about right to me. But as an adult in the break room at Walmart while casually discussing why I never had children and my coworker mother says to me "Well, I just knew it couldn't always be about me."  Now back then I believed she was responding to some magical vibe I had placed into the atmosphere. Just how did she know how selfish I am? Does she have a voodoo doll of me in her locker? The years pass and when I heard someone say, probably Dr. Phil or Dr. Laura, "If the same thing keeps happening to you over and over, look for the common denominator. You" This made sense to me. I was broken. In my mind, everybody else in the world had their shit together except me. Ever slowly, I started giving up. You could see it in my jobs. I started applying for jobs that required less and less out me to alleviate stress. I used to have to deal with public at many of my jobs but it all just became too much. The work was hard enough without all these constant demands of trying to please the world.  Even now, I have this anxiety balloon hanging over my head because I still feel like crap. If I need to cancel the job I rescheduled for Saturday morning should I call now? This customer was clearly put out when I cancelled yesterday it's one thing to sit here and type, it's quite another to clean a house.

Now I believe I am a player in every one of these scenarios but I don't think there is something wrong with me.  People gravitate towards others for a reason. So it stands to reason, you may be attracted to the same version of a person in a different body over and over. If I present myself as easy going, a stronger person may use my personality to their advantage. The primitive in that person says, "Me think Brenda no danger. Me dump some of my poo on her head. See how she respond." The pleaser personality will unconsciously start doing behavior that will win the favor of the aggressor. What will happen if the pleaser doesn't take their role of the submissive.  The more aggressive person, for their own reasons, don't like to feel challenged so they start becoming more aggressive until they see the pleaser getting back into the role they are comfortable seeing them in. And thus the cycle continues for this relationship. 

Do I sound like I just feebly copied this from a text book and put it in my own awkward text? Not this time anyway. I am basing all this from my own life, my own experiences and though I found my role early in life, I can clearly remember a time as a child where other people's feelings were really secondary. I can remember looking at my young classmates and thinking, "Hmm that's weird what they are doing over there".  Then back to "Oh, they are having chocolate milk for lunch today." I remember the unsolicited  opinions about my very bright hair and my bevy of polyester pants (homemade by my grandma in both peach and chartreuse) with loosely matching short sleeved pullover sweatshirts. I never cared what I wore. It just didn't seem important to me until someone else decided it was important to me. I say all this only to say that I want to get back to that little girl. I mean, give me a fucking break, it was the 1970's after all.  And even though I really liked it on Ricki Lake when she did her shows titled, "I was ugly in high school but look at me now", I don't have have any revenge fantasies. I write all this for me because organizing your thoughts in a somewhat cohesive essay does help reinforce the message. But you still can't sit by me at lunch, so there.