The Torture Chamber

...otherwise known as the teachers' lounge. I don't know if I can go back there. Every once in a while I take a break from it and eat lunch on my own, sometimes in my car listening to NPR or a book on CD. Yesterday it was more treacherous than ever. I walk in with my Longhorn lunch box, set it down in my spot, greet everybody, smile, buy a Coke, crack it open. Normal. Happy. Then my buddy Joe says, "Hey, have you ever heard that Fleetwood Mack song about being lost and clueless about love? It reminds me of you. I bet you could sing that convincingly. Let's try it!" "Why's that Joe? Do I strike you as one who is overly lost?" "Well, yes. When it comes to men." Ouch. Deflect. Breathe. Ok. Then another friend pipes up about how her husband thinks I am a lesbian. "He thinks you're scared of men because you like women." Right. Cool. That's great. I reacted really well to that one. "I would be the coolest lesbian ever! I would have access to the best girlfriends in the world! Gosh, my life would be so different. Too bad I'm cursed with heterosexuality. Awe. Poor me. And plus, I hate the clothes most lesbians wear. And haircuts. And I like men." It all came out of my mouth so fast I just couldn't seem to stop it. Defense mechanisms are so fight or flight. We all know lesbians dress in all kinds of different ways and wear their hair in all kinds of different ways, just like all of us. Why was I making jokes? Did I think I was funny? I'm sure most lesbians look better than me on any given day. Ellen does. But that's not the point. It's not about how anyone looks. It's about how things feel. PAUSE. Then I say, "Guys, I'm just taking a break from dating for a while. It's no big deal. I'm just not ready and I'm dealing with a lot of fears right now that I need to deal with. I'll be alright." A teacher I don't know very well yet decides to say, "It's like that bumper sticker says, "All your failed relationships have one thing in common, YOU."" Double ouch. To this I simply lifted my Coke and said, "Cheers". Then I decided to avoid the teacher's lounge for a while. I know everyone is just talking and they don't mean to be weird but I sure feel weird. I wish everyone would just let me be single without being deemed gay or lost or just hopelessly flawed. Look, I have had a hard time. Yes. I married young. It didn't work out. I tried my hardest. I tried for six years. It didn't work out. I've tried dating, a little. It hasn't worked out. Maybe that's been my fault. Maybe it hasn't. Maybe I haven't met the right person. Maybe I'm not the right person myself. I don't know. But I'm trying to become the right person. I'm trying. I'm doing everything I can think of to fix all the things I am aware of that need fixing. I am reading books about things. I'm in therapy. I'm talking with those I trust who've "made it" in the world of marriage and family. The fact is, I may never get there. The fact is that may not be my fault so much as my lot. I'm scared. Everyone knows that. What if I fail again? Will that be further proof, of the bumper sticker philosophy? That all my failed relationships are because of me? What if I did take another chance? And he cheated on me. Would that be my fault, too? What if he turned out to be abusive, criminally minded, selfish, or dishonest. My fault? Again? There's some psychological reason I selected him, right? Flawed. I don't know, instead of asking me whether I'm afraid of losing my child bearing years could you ask me what I'm working on in music or art or writing? I'm bearing those things with success. Instead of asking me whether or not I think I'll ever be friends again with my ex-husband let's talk about the friends I've got already. Please don't make my failures fodder for entertainment. Please stop using my personal life as a backdrop for clever commentary or lively jokes. I know this may seem surprising, as I am always quick with a laugh, a smile, nothing seems to bother me, but it does. It all does. I'm not lost. I'm not just a divorcee. I'm not a lesbian. I'm not any of these things. Who I am is much more complex and perhaps much less interesting in the ways that 30 second analyses can process. I think it's time for respect to make her debut in that lounge.