Melvil and I were discussing my blog today. He was curious to know how I felt so comfortable talking about personal things in a forum that absolutely anyone can read.
I’ve been thinking about it, and best I can tell, it’s because I don’t discuss anything personal. Or to be more accurate, I don’t discuss anything private.
“But, um,” you stutter, “um. What about the. You know. The bit where you talk about…”
My sexual orientation?
“Yes, that’s it,” you say, relieved.
Thanks for asking! I am dimly aware that most folks aren’t happy talking about sex, sexuality, or orientation, unless it’s to spout the One Man/One Woman mantra, and honestly, that grates after a bit. Come on, folks, the one:one ratio thing is old news. Move on.
(Tangent: I was just stricken with a fit of curiosity. Does anyone know what kinds of beds are used by polyamorous lovers? Do they buy the biggest damn king size bed on the market? Who gets to sleep in the middle? The one who pees the least, so that he/she doesn’t wake up someone else in the middle of the night? Google couldn’t tell me, but a search for “polyamorous bed” gave me some interesting results.)
“Uh, Jess,” you venture, “I don’t think the marriage amendment was about polyamory. It was more of a gay thing.”
Oh. Oh, you’re probably right. Doesn’t matter anyway. Fucking amendment passed. Now none of us can have any fun.
Where was I?
Sexual orientation, that was it. Like I was saying, I realize that some people are shy about sex and all that, but not me. I’ve said nothing here I wouldn’t want my own mother to read—fortunate, considering she does read it. Hi, Mom!
My sexual orientation (briefly: a queer sort of bi) is part of my identity. Everyone knows I’m a librarian, and everyone knows I’m a drop-dead gorgeous white female (the adjectives may vary, but we’re all pretty much agreed on the white female bit), and everyone knows I have liberal politics. So why shouldn’t everyone know I’m a queer?
Lest you think I’m willing to discuss anything on this blog, you should bear in mind that part I said about privacy. There are plenty of things in my life I don’t discuss here. (Ask Mom. She’ll tell you.) I would never talk about who I’m sleeping with, except for Johnny Depp. I would never talk about who I’d like to be sleeping with, or at most it would be oblique, i.e., “I saw a Johnny Depp movie.”
Wait, that was a lie. I do talk about who I’d like to be sleeping with, but mainly that’s limited to fictional characters, who are unlikely to jump off the page and complain about violated privacy. Generally this is good, though it also means they’re unlikely to jump off the page and ravish me. Life is all about trade-offs.
Before you conclude that I’m keeping silent about a glorious, super-secret sex life, consider that “personal” encompasses much more than sex. (I mean—conclude away. If you want to think I engage in fantastic passions each evening, and morning and day while we’re at it, I am not the woman to stop you. Just be aware that it’s not true.) When I say I don’t write about personal things on this blog, I’m talking about a whole host of issues. I don’t write about times when I get depressed or times when I’m angry at myself or times when a coworker pisses me off. There are places for discussing those things, but this blog is not one of them.
Sexual orientation, though? And my affair with Johnny Depp? Fair game. The only reason I don’t write more about Johnny is because I don’t want the rest of you to be jealous.