I ran into my former boss today and was surprised to learn she had called me last week. She had told me to come into the office on Monday because there was now enough work for me and I had agreed. I have absolutely no recollection of this conversation, which is worrisome. However, I put it out of my mind and agreed to come later in the day.
Returning to something that you were once apart of almost every day after a long absence is eerie. People who you once thought took an interest in you barely manage a nod. People you considered friends and spent hours laughing and talking with are suddenly once again strangers.
One of those familiar strangers I saw today for the first time since mid-December. We spent quite a bit of time talking and wasting time not working together. I honestly thought I wouldn’t mind being friends with him. I thought we were almost friends, although we had never actually spent time together outside of work. But out of all my co-workers I would say that he was my favorite.
So, today, I asked him his boyfriend was. He nervously glanced around the room and quietly said, “Nobody else here knows about that.”
It surprised me. If I were to be honest with myself, my first impression of him was that he was gay. Once I realized I thought this, I checked myself and decided not to make any assumptions about him. His mannerisms were slightly feminine, but that is not so uncommon in male Puerto Ricans. They are group that wax their eyebrows, occasionally wear their finger nails long and sometimes spend more money and energy on getting their hair styled than women.
As time passed, I learned that he didn’t like going to straight clubs, he had a boyfriend and loved jewelry and make-up even though he felt he couldn’t wear them. With this new information, I decided that the chances were probably pretty good that he was gay. I thought it humorous when he wanted to be a woman for Halloween, but I also felt sad that he didn’t feel comfortable enough to truly express himself the way he wanted in his every day life.
It never occurred to me that what he was sharing with me wasn’t something he shared with the other co-workers. I am not sure why he felt comfortable talking about it with me. Because I am American?
I wish we could all be what we wanted to without fearing what other people might think, say or do. I know I am prone to look at someone and wonder what in the hell they were thinking when the put that outfit together and then wondering what in the hell the person who designed that outfit was thinking and what in the hell the store owner who stocked that outfit was thinking, etc., etc. In reality, though, I recognize that person deserves to be happy in that outfit no matter what I think because what I think is irrelevant in her or his life. (I intentionally put the feminine pronoun first when using she/he, her/him, her/his.) Maybe that person feels the same way about what I am wearing. Hopefully, I do not feel the same way about what I am wearing.