Tipping Point

Tipping Point: February 5, 2017.

I was supposed to go to Breckenridge the weekend of February 5, 2017, but the trip was cancelled last-minute. I now had a weekend ahead of me with zero plans. My roommate was out of town, gone for the entire weekend. I had nothing to do. Being a single introvert, seasoned with a pinch of loner and topped off with an isolating secret, I was no stranger to alone time. I had been trying to change that — drinking less and filling my time with more productive activities.

This weekend, however, I fell back. Christians would say I backslid.

Back to Netflix and booze. I binged on whiskey and a show called Faking It about two female best friends one of whom falls in love with the other.  

By that Saturday night, I was pretty drunk, commiserating with the characters on this adolescent show (I mean, good grief, it was on MTV), specifically with Amy over her love for the red-headed minx Karma, and feeling like a TOTAL loser. I was 41 years old; lived in an apartment, in fact, had not lived in a house since I lived with my parents in high-school, had certainly never owned a house; drove a beat-up truck that was 24 years old (okay, it was pretty kickass); and, last but not least, was not married, not in a relationship, nothing.

Loser.

I can’t do this anymore I thought. I was boozy and that made me bold. I signed up for Pink Cupid, a dating site for lesbians. It wasn’t the first time I had perused dating sites looking for women; it was often where I ended up when I drank. My thinking was always along the lines of something has to give, I have to make a change, my life cannot go on like this. And, usually by the next morning, I would be horrified that I had gone online in search of a woman.  

But something snapped in me that night, because the next day, sober, I signed up for Compatible Partners (CP). I wanted a dating website that forced me to make a public profile before I could see matches. I could remain anonymous on Pick Cupid and search profiles without putting myself out there. CP forces you to make a profile. It also just happens to be wholesome and straight-laced e-Harmony’s site for gays and lesbians, its dirty little secret. I had to answer all 10,000 questions and, to my relief, I was approved! Years before, I had signed up for e-Harmony and been rejected after spending an hour answering their questionnaire. They knew I was gay before I did. Anyways, I started receiving matches. It was on. 

A couple days after being on CP, I was matched with Erica. She was cute. I liked what she wrote in her profile. She indicated that God was important to her but her faith had been a source of hurt at times. I winked at her. We started communicating.

Being so intentional in seeking out a same-sex relationship was freaking me out.

On Friday, February 10, I spent the afternoon with Sarah from my Women’s Group, my former therapist. I knew it was bad form to seek her advice, because she was no longer my therapist, but I couldn’t help it. I needed to talk to someone. I still felt very uncomfortable and uneasy talking about being gay but I knew she would have some helpful ideas. Even though we had not talked about it since I had been in therapy with her years before, I told her what had been happening the past few days and asked for her guidance. She thought I should go on a few dates with women and gather some intel to see if this was the direction I wanted to go.

It was taking a holy risk she said.

In her experience as a therapist, she said people usually have to be in a relationship to see if that is the thing they are missing.

She also asked me how I viewed God. What do you mean? I said. Does he want good things for you? she asked. 

Does he? I wondered. I didn’t know.