Choices

I don’t understand the argument.  How someone can say that being gay is a choice.  I get what they are thinking, but I don’t think they’ve thought it through.  Using the word choice as a blanket term for the reason people are gay doesn’t make sense.

In high school I fell in love with my best friend.  She was funny and sweet and pretty much perfect.  We were inseparable.  We spent so much time together and were so close that my mother once asked me if I was gay.  I was appalled.  Shocked.  And denied that such a thing could be true.  I immediately chose a boy to date just to avoid that thought ever going through anyone’s head again.  But the thing was…it was stuck in my head.  Was I gay?  My friend and I continued to be close, but there was a boyfriend buffer there to help.

In college it was the same song, second verse.  Girl vs. Boy.  No way I’m gay.  Choose boy.

Later I met my future husband.  He was funny and sweet and pretty much perfect.  We became best friends, but secretly I wanted more.  I wanted to date him for over a year before he finally asked me out.  I was thrilled.  Overjoyed.  Ecstatic.  The first time he held my hand I was nervous.  And the first thought that entered my head was, “Wow…my friend is holding my hand.  A little weird, but I wanted this.”  And the first time he kissed me, “Oh my gosh, my friend just kissed me.”  I figured it was the transition from friendship to more that elicited those thoughts.  I got used to holding his hand and kissing him.  It was good.  Sweet.  We got married.  We had children.  We had a happy life.

Numerous times during our married life I came across women I was attracted to.  Usually I ran the other way when that happened.  I chose to ignore those feelings.  I chose my husband over all others.  Until one day I couldn’t.  I was with my best friend.  She was funny and sweet and pretty much perfect.  And I was faced with a choice.  She was standing in front of me asking me to kiss her.  Willing me to.  The battle of choices raged in my head.  I chose to give in to all those overwhelming feelings of desire.  And the most irrepressible feeling of finally washed over me.   I didn’t choose to feel that way.  It wasn’t weird or unnatural or gross.  I didn’t think about the fact that I was kissing my friend.  All I could think in those moments was was that one word…finally.  Finally I felt what everyone always talked about.  The part that I had somehow missed.

Later, after deciding to go our separate ways I wondered about it all.  I was still married.  He had forgiven me.  And he said I had a choice to make.  He was right.  My choice was to continue to stay married to him or to leave.  I fought myself over that choice for a long time.  I couldn’t imagine getting a divorce, but I also couldn’t imagine continuing to kiss him knowing what a finally kiss felt like.  I chose to leave.

So yes, there were choices.  I made them.  I chose to act on the feelings I felt, but I didn’t choose to feel them.  I chose to be with a woman, but I didn’t choose to be attracted to them.  I chose what came naturally to me instead of choosing to continue to force myself to try to feel something I never would.