I came out as polyamorous to my first person (OK, well, it was a couple) to whom it did not go well.
I’m pretty new to coming out, and especially new to coming out to people who would rather not know, so that might be why I overrode my instincts to keep quiet in this case. Usually, the result of my disclosure varies from polite interest to overwhelming relief (whew! I was wondering what was wrong with you!). I could tell I was more nervous than usual in this scenario, and for some reason, I would have felt like a coward if I didn’t go through with it. But something about these people, who were historically good friends of mine before both of us moved away, was making me shy. Now I know to pay attention to that feeling.
I wasn’t particularly afraid of getting harshly judged (after all, that was the result, and as I’ll explain later, it wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things), even though these are rather judgmental people who just typically have not aimed their disapproval at me before. What made me think twice about coming out, before I finally did, was my realization that all of our catching-up time was spent with them talking about their adventures, with no sense of curiosity about mine. In fact, when I volunteered stories of my own, they would usually change the subject to something more interesting--them. I clearly chose my audience poorly, though I might argue that I was really just giving them a chance to continue a solid friendship with me, a friendship that was already starting to deteriorate by what I saw as selfish behavior. What I wanted was a connection that would allow them to understand me on a deep level--which is what I want from any friendship--and give context and background for the implications of some of my adventure stories that I still hoped I would get to share later.
In truth, the treatment I got was exactly the same from coming out as I got from telling anything more mainstream--they changed the subject. It was just done in a higher-pitched, faster-talking, lower-eye-contact, palpable heart-rate-increasing way. And in fact, it took a few seconds for them to change the subject, perhaps because they couldn’t quite think of anything in their lives that could relate and serve as a segue. Then they pointedly asked me about my job.
So what might have happened to cause the disconnect?
They may have thought I was asking to jump into their bed that night. That’s happened before, where I have come out to a friend who weeks afterward apologized profusely that his wife wouldn’t let me sleep with him (I’m sorry for the drama my non-invitation must have caused them). And one of the members of the couple is a woman who admits to getting hit on constantly; it could be a default position to assume everyone wants her.
They could have thought I was telling them intimate details of my sex life. When my secondary gets asked about the relationship between him and his primary, he responds, “do you want to know what positions we use?” Sure, physical details aren’t polite dinner conversation (and this conversation did happen over dinner). But in my practice, polyamory is vastly different from sex (I hope you’re not in the middle of dinner, but as an example: my girlthing and I have yet to have what most people would call sex, and we may never get around to it. That doesn’t disqualify her as my girlthing); I didn’t even get around to names or numbers, much less what we do in bed.
I could have hit a nerve. If openness was a historical topic of discussion between them that didn’t go well, it’s not likely to be a topic they want to open up with an unwilling mediator in the room.
I could have seemed competitive, or preachy. I get the sense that it matters to some people how many people their neighbors are sleeping with, and they don’t like high numbers. I can’t quite understand that, but it’s a phenomenon I’ve seen, perhaps not unlike wanting to know how much money your neighbors have and feeling good about yourself if you’ve got more. And much as the old idea that gay teachers produce gay kids, it might have seemed like I was trying to forcibly convert them over to my dark side.
Certainly any number of other things that I didn’t detect might have been going on, and aside from the body language, I might simply have been boring them again by introducing a subject in which they had no interest. In the end, I got a great education. I know all about their lives and their adventures, and I might even want to incorporate some of their experiences into my own. But I know I’m going to want to do that without a great deal of contact with these people. I certainly don’t want to force them to think about things that are uncomfortable for them for my sake, and so I found myself tempering my stories. Those stories might have had interesting and novel insights had they come across with an understanding of my unusual view of the world, but they were much more trite in the context of socially approved conversation and extremely carefully chosen wording. And so it became very easy to sit silently and listen empathetically to everything they had to say. That works in business, and it will still work if I have business dealings with them. It might even work with friendship, though Dan Savage doesn’t seem to think so; I would want to talk to some more people who are closeted for any number of situations to get more perspective. Right now I already happen to be surrounded by people who seem to take an interest in my thoughts, feelings, opinions, and in me, and I don’t particularly see the point yet in wasting the time to win the other guys over.
*****
Questions or comments? I’ve got opinions. Try me at polysaturated@rocketmail.com.
I’m pretty new to coming out, and especially new to coming out to people who would rather not know, so that might be why I overrode my instincts to keep quiet in this case. Usually, the result of my disclosure varies from polite interest to overwhelming relief (whew! I was wondering what was wrong with you!). I could tell I was more nervous than usual in this scenario, and for some reason, I would have felt like a coward if I didn’t go through with it. But something about these people, who were historically good friends of mine before both of us moved away, was making me shy. Now I know to pay attention to that feeling.
I wasn’t particularly afraid of getting harshly judged (after all, that was the result, and as I’ll explain later, it wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things), even though these are rather judgmental people who just typically have not aimed their disapproval at me before. What made me think twice about coming out, before I finally did, was my realization that all of our catching-up time was spent with them talking about their adventures, with no sense of curiosity about mine. In fact, when I volunteered stories of my own, they would usually change the subject to something more interesting--them. I clearly chose my audience poorly, though I might argue that I was really just giving them a chance to continue a solid friendship with me, a friendship that was already starting to deteriorate by what I saw as selfish behavior. What I wanted was a connection that would allow them to understand me on a deep level--which is what I want from any friendship--and give context and background for the implications of some of my adventure stories that I still hoped I would get to share later.
In truth, the treatment I got was exactly the same from coming out as I got from telling anything more mainstream--they changed the subject. It was just done in a higher-pitched, faster-talking, lower-eye-contact, palpable heart-rate-increasing way. And in fact, it took a few seconds for them to change the subject, perhaps because they couldn’t quite think of anything in their lives that could relate and serve as a segue. Then they pointedly asked me about my job.
So what might have happened to cause the disconnect?
They may have thought I was asking to jump into their bed that night. That’s happened before, where I have come out to a friend who weeks afterward apologized profusely that his wife wouldn’t let me sleep with him (I’m sorry for the drama my non-invitation must have caused them). And one of the members of the couple is a woman who admits to getting hit on constantly; it could be a default position to assume everyone wants her.
They could have thought I was telling them intimate details of my sex life. When my secondary gets asked about the relationship between him and his primary, he responds, “do you want to know what positions we use?” Sure, physical details aren’t polite dinner conversation (and this conversation did happen over dinner). But in my practice, polyamory is vastly different from sex (I hope you’re not in the middle of dinner, but as an example: my girlthing and I have yet to have what most people would call sex, and we may never get around to it. That doesn’t disqualify her as my girlthing); I didn’t even get around to names or numbers, much less what we do in bed.
I could have hit a nerve. If openness was a historical topic of discussion between them that didn’t go well, it’s not likely to be a topic they want to open up with an unwilling mediator in the room.
I could have seemed competitive, or preachy. I get the sense that it matters to some people how many people their neighbors are sleeping with, and they don’t like high numbers. I can’t quite understand that, but it’s a phenomenon I’ve seen, perhaps not unlike wanting to know how much money your neighbors have and feeling good about yourself if you’ve got more. And much as the old idea that gay teachers produce gay kids, it might have seemed like I was trying to forcibly convert them over to my dark side.
Certainly any number of other things that I didn’t detect might have been going on, and aside from the body language, I might simply have been boring them again by introducing a subject in which they had no interest. In the end, I got a great education. I know all about their lives and their adventures, and I might even want to incorporate some of their experiences into my own. But I know I’m going to want to do that without a great deal of contact with these people. I certainly don’t want to force them to think about things that are uncomfortable for them for my sake, and so I found myself tempering my stories. Those stories might have had interesting and novel insights had they come across with an understanding of my unusual view of the world, but they were much more trite in the context of socially approved conversation and extremely carefully chosen wording. And so it became very easy to sit silently and listen empathetically to everything they had to say. That works in business, and it will still work if I have business dealings with them. It might even work with friendship, though Dan Savage doesn’t seem to think so; I would want to talk to some more people who are closeted for any number of situations to get more perspective. Right now I already happen to be surrounded by people who seem to take an interest in my thoughts, feelings, opinions, and in me, and I don’t particularly see the point yet in wasting the time to win the other guys over.
*****
Questions or comments? I’ve got opinions. Try me at polysaturated@rocketmail.com.
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