Coming out as a widow is something I never dreamed of having to do. Well, obviously. That was a bit of a fucking redundant sentence to start with. Who does in their twenties? I’ve been practising my various options for explaining to people and some lines:
“Hello, I’m a widow.” Nope. Too obvious.
[sobbing hysterically in public] “My wife died.” #stayawayfromthecrazylady
“Hello, my wife killed herself, how are you?” Too crude.
“Hello, nice to meet you [a little bit of chit chat, approximately 1 minute or so]… It’s interesting you say that because when I was widowed…” Slightly better, non?
[a long way into a conversation] “My late wife and I went…” Good. Getting more sophisticated.
[in response to queries as to if I’m married?] “yes I am, but my wife passed away.” Acceptable.
[orgasm] “Oh my God, that was fucking amazing. My wife never made me come like that. By the way, this is the room she hung herself in.” DON’T EVER SAY THIS.
“You’re a widow? ME TOO!” This is the best situation. Well, not best, but you know what I mean. Boy widower and I started this way and look what happened…
“I’ve really enjoyed today [on a date with a fit girl]. I might as well nip it in the bud and tell you that I’m a widow.” This worked out ok. She still kissed me. And then more…
As an uber femme lipstick lesbian from a Christian household, coming out as gay was a confusing process. But I grew accustomed to coming out as necessary in a way that wasn’t so sensationalist.
Now, regardless of how I come out as a widow, it IS sensationalist. Going one step further and divulging that my wife died by suicide blows people’s minds. The only thing that varies is the reaction I receive on their face and the other person’s emotional intelligence. Flabbergasted. Overly nosey. Too embarrassed to acknowledge what I’ve just said. Apologetic. Acknowledging and moving on with the conversation. I must say, I’m getting much better at coming out as a widow. Still, mindfuck.
With the tingly feeling between my legs when Boy Widower flirts back with me, I’m now having to consider coming out as something else. Or is it going back in the closet? Is there even a closet? Was I in a small cabinet instead of a closet? Maybe it’s ok to have one half of my body in the closet and the other half out. I’m embarrassed about the whole closet / non existent closet situation. Read about that next time because last night, I had sex with a girl…