I recently resigned from work. No, it was not recent, actually. My resignation letter was forwarded last July and I am still waiting for it to take effect – when I get a replacement.
In preparation for the “state of unemployment” which terrifies me and everyone who is enjoying the luxury of cable TV, electricity and water, I have been doing a lot of sidelines including seafoods trading.
Recently I met two business partners. Both were male, obviously straight and down to do serious business. I have something they cannot get – a connection to the seafoods capital of the country. While we are in a mall in Makati coordinating with the hardheaded supplier from Roxas, we ended up talking about our personal lives.
I am a glass closet lesbian. I am out, but not out to everyone. Only a few people know about my orientation and it feels better that way. Given this is a business transaction, there was no need to let my clients know. However, they are aware that I am single and I do not have a boyfriend. They would usually joke around that if the transaction is successful, they would help me get a a boyfriend from the call center agents one of them are supervising.
So we sat in the middle of a posh, but empty looking mall. “Are you married?” I asked one of them. “Not really married, but…” he sounded like he was uncomfortable to explain, but he continued. “I just don’t understand. Men are the ones who cheat. Not women.” With that kind of introduction I kind of felt where he was trying to go.
Then he said “It will be okay if she cheated on me with another guy… But with a woman? In our bed? Several times? I could not bear it.” I felt bad and wanted to say comforting words like “it will be okay”, but I blurted out: “Well, think of it this way: That you found the type of woman you do not want to be with, and you are a step closer to finding the love of your life.” What was interesting about this man was he still could not believe that it happened.
She was his first girlfriend. They have a child and it is the main reason why he remains to be with her. “We’re still in the same house but we no longer sleep together.”
I asked about the lesbian.
“Where did they meet?”
“Where are they working?”
“How does the lesbian look like?”
“She looks like a woman. Long hair. Pretty. She is also my friend… I didn’t know.”
“How do you feel?”
His answer to my last question just made me stop asking him – “I do not understand how I feel. I want to be angry. I want to be disappointed. I just do not want to talk about it.”
It was not his answer. It was how he said everything. He seemed to be looking at the floor, but it looked like he was looking at something deeper than the shiny tiles. It was as if he was trying to recall something – something that he may have done wrong, something that may have given him hints, something that would have helped him prevented it. “She was my first love,” he ended his talk about his girlfriend. I could not say a thing. Nothing I would say would make him feel any better.
I could only imagine how devastated he was seeing his girlfriend with another woman on their bed. Yes, for some men and women, it is a fantasy, but for someone like my client the experience was devastating.
Now, going back to our transaction, my mind floats thinking of ways how to break to him that he is dealing with a lesbian and the other person helping him get his seafoods is another lesbian.