But She Was Straight

She told me she loved me with everything in her. We spent almost all our time together. She made the best meals - my favorite was white rice and chicken sauce with mixed vegetables. The thighs! LORD! I still remember how huge and soft they were - how I sank my teeth in to grab the biggest bite. All her most satisfying and lasting past relationships had been with women.  But she said that she was straight.

It was so strange. 

“Bloody lesbian,” she said as she pulled me towards her for a kiss, mild disgust underlying the words disguised behind a mischievous smirk.

I had become accustomed to this sort of dynamic with her. Although I jokingly described myself as a “bloody lesbian”, she never admitted to being the same. After all, she was ‘straight’.

Not long after we started dating, she and her siblings decided to throw a surprise birthday party for their dad. One day, we were together when her sister called her to come over to discuss some of the arrangements. I was feeling a little needy that day because I had been having some problems at work, and I just wanted to be close to her, hold her hand. But she had to go, so I went with her. When we arrived at her sister’s house, I introduced myself but there was no sign of recognition. Clearly, she had never mentioned me before. Her sister sat on the chair facing us and started making small talk, asking me about myself and our ‘friendship’. Unconsciously, I tried to hold her hand, but she stylishly removed her hands from mine. 

“Would you like a drink?” her sister asked.

“What do you have?” I responded. 

“Let me check. Be right back!”

Just as her sister left the room, I reached out and hugged her. We barely hugged for a few seconds before she quickly disengaged, leaving me wondering why.

“So we have red wine, water, juice…,” her sister said, coming back into the living room.

“I’ll have water, please. Room temperature.”

As her sister left the room again, she turned to me sharply. “Ah, ah! Babe, do you want my sister to see us?”

“Na wa for you oh. She has already seen us na. Was she not the person who opened the door for us?” 

“Stop joking, jor. I don’t want her to see us ‘together’…”

“You mean, my hand touching your hand?”

“Yes! I don’t know how she will react and I don’t want her to tell my mum.”

“Oh…okay,” I said as I quietly shifted as far away from her as possible. 

But it wasn’t just her sister she didn’t want to know we were together. Her response was always the same every time I’d try to hold her or her hand in public, even though we were almost always together. When she was done with her university program, she asked me to follow her to school to sort out her documentation. We drove into the premises to warm smiles on familiar faces, friends waving enthusiastically at the car as we bounced over the potholes we failed to dodge. Unfortunately, we pulled up to the administration block only to discover the professor who was to sign her clearance wasn’t there. To confirm what we already knew, his secretary said, “he’s not around o, you will have to come back.” I knew she was already frustrated with the whole process but I refrained from trying to hug or comfort her until we were back in the car. 

She never let me forget that we were just “friends” and I needed to act accordingly. It made me wonder; if she believed there was something inherently wrong with dating me, why was she still dating me? Heck, why was I still dating her? Fortunately or unfortunately, I loved her with all my heart despite having to constantly deal with these contradictions. To reduce the cognitive dissonance I felt, I made excuses for her. I told myself that she would come around, that if I waited long enough she would come out of the closet. So we stayed together on her terms because I didn’t want to push her or worse, lose her.

One Christmas, we made plans to spend the day at an amazing amusement park nearby. When Christmas morning rolled around, we left the house at about 7am and arrived at the park too early. Sitting in the car, looking into each other’s eyes, we talked about the future we imagined for ourselves - how many kids we wanted to have, where we would like to live, the kind of life we wanted for our future family, etc. 

Eventually, the park opened and we dashed in with excitement that only matched that of a two-year-old in a candy store. I had never seen so many rides in the same place. I really wanted to try one ride in particular, but I knew if I described that it would lift us up and suddenly drop down, she would never agree to do it with me. So I casually mentioned that we should do it together, and she agreed without knowing what she was getting into. After the first drop, she screamed and clenched my hands so tight I couldn't feel my fingers by the time she let go. I felt like my heart would burst, and it wasn’t just because of the adrenaline.

We must have gone on about eight different rides, including a simulated helicopter ride to fulfill her pipe dream of being a pilot. We had lunch, then attempted to go go-carting but that section was closed. We took lots of pictures all over the park and did hundreds of goofy poses with the giant monkey in the background. After that long and fun day together, a few pictures appeared on her social media pages. I scrolled and scrolled, wondering if I was seeing things, but my eyes weren’t deceiving me. I wasn’t in any of the pictures she posted. It was like I wasn’t there, like I wasn’t even in her life, let alone being her girlfriend.

But I was. Until one day when she called me much earlier than usual. I knew she wasn’t a morning person, so I answered the phone with a bit of trepidation. “Is everything okay?” I looked at my phone screen to make sure the call was still connected. 

“Hello..?”

“I’m getting married.” 

“…what?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but she was still talking.

“I’m under a lot of pressure to get married, and my mum is not getting any younger. I want to give her grandchildren before she dies, you know I’m her favorite daughter, I don’t want to disappoint her…” She went on and on for what felt like forever. 

“Okay,” I managed to mumble while feeling my heart disintegrate within its cavity. The silence stretched between us.

“Hello..?” 

“Do you have to?,” I blurted. 

“Yes.” The finality in her tone was crushing. “But…he’s gay.”

I knew she mentioned that because it was supposed to make me feel better, but it did not.

“You know my family history, babe. They would never accept that I love a woman. He’s never going to touch me. We’ll just live our lives and still please our families. I am doing this for us…” Her voice trailed off unconvincingly.

“I’ve heard you. But it doesn’t matter; you know I can’t date a married woman.”

“Babe, I’ll only be married for one year. Then we will end the marriage. At least, no one will say we didn’t try.” 

“Look, whether you accept it or not, nobody is stupid! Everyone already knows you’re lesbian...and now you want to marry a gay man?! You’re just deceiving yourselves.” I didn’t know when I raised my voice. The pain I was feeling threatened to tear me apart. 

“You can’t do this. You’re not doing this for us. You’re doing this for you.” 

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. There was nothing left for me to say. It was clear that we had come to a fork in the road and there was no going forward. We had to either turn right together or go our separate ways. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was shattered. Heartbroken. Devastated. I felt I had wasted much time and invested emotions and resources, only to arrive here. I had even allowed myself to be forced back into the closet, just to be with someone who ended up prioritizing societal expectations over me, over and over again.

I didn’t attend the wedding. I just couldn’t bring myself to watch the woman I loved be handed over to another person in marriage, no matter what the pretext was. I was expected to be there - to clap, and smile, and wish them “well”, even while I was dying inside, knowing that she and I would never have such a moment. I was supposed to celebrate becoming even more invisible in her life.

God forbid.