The biggest thing that ever happened to me was coming out. It was a Boxing Day morning, I had blurted it to my religious mother who almost had a heart attack. She kept harping on about how my cousins and the kids of her friends were married to nice guys and how I hadn’t even brought a guy home since I left.
I left my parents’ house when I was 20. Since I couldn’t sleep with men for money after that, I had a less than ideal life and had to work my tail off to make ends meet. I managed to navigate through good, poor, and horrible relationships while working a variety of jobs and living off of the generosity of others; I even shared a small space with numerous people. Life was busy and is still busy, but I make ends meet on my own now.
Because I knew my sexuality was going to put me in compromising situations if I depended on anybody, I worked very hard to ensure nobody had anything to hold against me. My mom was happy at how hard I worked and how independent I am amongst all her children, but the sing-song died when I clocked 30 and she hadn’t seen me with any guy, not even as a boyfriend. It bothered her until I blurted out at the top of my voice that I have no business with men because I am not attracted to them. She didn’t take it well, but there was very little they could do. I have my money, I pay my bills, and I do not depend on either her or my siblings for anything.
Kammy and I met at the motor park as I headed back to base and became instant friends; other passengers thought we knew each other before the trip. There is a calm energy about her, but best of all, she has this unpredictable look, but one won’t have to look hard to see she makes intentional efforts for people, and so I liked her instantly.
We got into the city quite late, and since I live farther from the motor park, it was a bit difficult to get a ride going my way. Kammy waited while I haggled with taxi drivers, even though her friend was already at the park to pick her up. They were both patient while I spoke to almost five cab drivers before I got one who understood my route and would go for a fair price. She was so patient, and I kept wondering how she manages to be so well-comported, but she does it so naturally that you’d know it’s just who she is.
We kept in touch afterwards, and in three months we had moved in together and fallen madly in love. Kammy is an administrator in a private school, and even though she isn’t officially out to her family, they do not make any fuss about her not being married.
Nobody has loved me like Kammy; there is something about how she loves me and how intentional she is. She literally takes care of me and is always there for all I need, and she never asks for anything in return, as she would always say, “I know how to take care of myself, so all you have to do for me is to be okay,” and that’s usually what makes her the happiest.
We don’t have a lot of drama in our relationship because neither of us is particularly outgoing. Even on the days we do go out, we typically do so by ourselves because neither of us has many friends. When we’re at home, we’d be inside watching a movie or just fiddling with our phones to catch up on social media activity.
It has always been a desire of mine to be a mother and have someone calls me Mom and I mentioned same to my partner at our first anniversary dinner. I’m not sure if I spoke improperly or at the wrong time, but subsequently, I failed to recognize Kammy. She initially questioned why, at my age and as a lesbian, I would want a child.
At first, I didn’t actually take her serious, but the questions persisted. For days, I was puzzled of how to interpret her feelings on having a baby because my feelings had been hurt and I eventually realized that all that we had shared had been marred. Even though we aren’t required to do it together, I explained that I didn’t want to do it without her. I have always loved her and wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.
Should I give up my desire to become a parent in order to preserve what we currently have—something I doubt I will ever have again—or should I walk away from the best relationship and most thoughtful person I have ever known? I’m broken and lost.