The Great Pretender

I never thought I’d see the day when I would say ‘It was easier when they presumed I was gay.’

Those who know me, or at least those whose ears I have chewed in the past, will know how wound up I used to get when people made jokes about me being gay. I was ultra sensitive to homosexual connotations and would blush hysterically and gibber out excuses –

‘Got-go-I-somewhere----bye.’

Perhaps my colleagues added two and two together and finally made lesbian, but after a while I shrugged off comments. I always assumed my wit and sarcasm fended off any suspicions. I was wrong.

When I supposedly started dating a guy, it was met not with the usual hysterical giggling or coos to which I was spectator. It was instead met with disbelief, ‘A boyfriend? You? We all presumed you were a lesbian.’ I won’t pretend it didn’t dumbfound me, but I am a bit of an expert at lying now -

‘What – me? Are you all mad, sure I’m as straight as they come.’

What I didn’t appreciate at the time was the convenience of being presumed homosexual. I didn’t get accused of fancying any boy I mentioned, I wasn’t asked for my opinion on male models, and quite frankly I didn’t have as much pretending to do.

Far from being the raving lesbian who spends her nights running rampant around the gay scene, I retire instead to my closet, as sleep crawls upon me, exhausted from a day of straight acting. Where in logic is it easier to be presumed a gay acting straight than a straight acting straight?

Surely I deserve an Oscar? A Golden Globe at least for my performances as The Great Pretender.

First of all, I’d like to thank my parents for having me. I’d also like to thank my primary teacher for wearing such low cut tops that I developed a mild obsession with her. I’d like to thank my first girlfriend for helping me realise so much about myself. And, of course, my ‘boyfriend’, for getting me in this mess.