The Comphet Nightmare, Part 2
Comphet — or compulsory heterosexuality — is the societal expectation that everyone is born straight. It’s the whole reason why LGBTQ+ people have to “come out” and straight people don’t.
Comphet is taught. Comphet is learned. But it’s done in such a way that makes the teaching hard to reject. It’s insidious. We don’t even realize we’re learning it. Comphet is part of the paradigm we’re raised in. And it infiltrates everything from our social structures and religious doctrines, to the our personal internal dialogue.
Gratefully, that’s changing. Go Gen Z!
But for me — and I’m guessing you too — comphet was a big deal. A big, invisible deal.
Think of it like a cake. Comphet is the base layer, topped with frosting in the form of societal expectations to:
✔ Respect authority and please the people in charge — religious leaders, parents, teachers…
✔ Do what we’re told — with a good attitude.
✔ Make the people around us comfortable by not making waves or disrupting the system.
✔ Strive for the happily-ever-after narrative as it appeared in our stories and fairy tales.
And people-pleasing is the sprinkles on top.
I hate the term people-pleaser. I really do. So I keep trying to find something else to call it. But truthfully, that’s what I was. I did what other people wanted and expected of me in order to gain their approval, feel good about myself, and stay emotionally safe.
So I contorted myself to fit the paradigm. And I suspect I’m not alone. In fact, I think that’s why so many lesbians marry men and have kids before they figure themselves out.
I’m amazed by the number of women who come out later in life and do it while they are still married to a man. And if that’s you, you have my utmost respect. The amount of courage it takes to not only admit your sexuality, but then face the upheaval that results from coming out while you’re married, is monumental. Way to go!
But that’s not the way it was for me.
I was married for over a decade. And I did the whole Christian wife and mother thing. Because… comphet.
But the man I married ended up not being such a great choice. Not just because he was a man either.
Several years into my marriage, my husband started drinking… a lot. (I’ll share that story another time.) But eventually, his drinking ended our marriage. No, I wasn’t perfect. And yes, I was a closeted gay woman in a hetero marriage so I’m not saying it was a picnic for him either. But really, his drinking ended our marriage.
And thus began my single mom years. And there have been a lot of them. They’re still going on actually.
I’ve been a single mom for over 12 years now. And during all that time (before admitting I’m a lesbian), I went on exactly 2 dates.
2 dates in 10 years. They were both with men. And they were both awful.
After I got my divorce, I was busy raising my four kids. But I also just had no desire to date. Or get married. Not really anyway. Sure, there were lots of times when I wished I had a partner to share the burden with. But I wasn’t genuinely interested in dating or being married again.
Looking back, I still wonder how I could be so clueless.
Now I understand. It’s not that I didn’t want to date. I didn’t want to date a MAN.
What kept me from realizing my sexuality all that time even though I was single?
Comphet. Well, that and religious indoctrination. It’s not that I knew I was gay and just didn’t tell anybody. I really genuinely DID NOT KNOW.
There were events in my life that didn’t add up. I had crushes on girls. I would inexplicably google pictures of Rachel Maddow. I had locker room memories that just didn’t make sense.
But after some olympic-level mental gymnastics, I was able to push all those things down and live my life without having any real idea that I’m gay.
In my defense, I was monumentally busy. I was raising four kids completely by myself after all. It turns out a lousy alcoholic husband makes a really great deadbeat dad. So I was on my own.
But gay wasn’t an option. Dating a woman never seemed like an actual possibility. I had fantasies about it — and not just sex — the actual dates. Those lesbain-date-fantasies fell into the category of things that didn’t add up.
The murky fog of comphet (and homophobic religious teachings) hid my truth.
But once I finally admitted I’m gay, I couldn’t wait to start dating. And so I have. I’ve gone out on a bunch of dates since I came out. And all with women. It’s nice to be back out there. Except when it’s not. But that’s a story for another time…
