SQUARE PEG IN A ROUND HOLE is my personal story about when coming out and being true to oneself was dangerous, difficult, and demeaning . I hope that my saga will help younger folks to understand why their parents and elders took the road they did (or didnt) ... while empowering those of us of the boomer generation to remember the different world and times in which we came to grips with uncloaking the trappings locked so tightly in our own closets. ####################### Superimpose the beauty of Rob Lowe on the dark masculinity of John Stamos, mix in a bit off Charlie Sheen for some spice, and add a dash of a younger Donny Osmond to good measure. All right, I’ll admit it: I still was hung up on looks and found Russ extremely attractive. But, hey, give me a break; looks are usually the first thing you notice. Russ had suddenly appeared at the branch where I banked. Employed as “utility” staff, he worked at times as a teller, “on the rail,” or was sent off “to shop.” Translated, the jargon means that he floated around with temporary assignments. Shuttled wherever he was needed or wanted, customer service was his job this week, while posing as a customer and checking out other branches to see how well they followed bank policies was his next. Twice that same day I made trips to the bank: once to make a deposit, again to cash a check. But each time my turn in line came, I was motioned to another teller line for assistance. And I couldn’t stop looking at that gorgeous man with the beautiful face and dark, shiny hair. Why didn’t he turn and return my stare? Russ was sent elsewhere to work for the next few weeks, and I had momentarily forgotten him. Then, one day, he reappeared. I waited around until his shift ended, then followed him to the parking lot to see which car was his. It turned out to be a truck—a blue and gray Ford Ranger. Funny, it just didn’t seem to be the image I’d envisioned for him. As he opened the door, I wondered what my next move should be. Lamely, I circled around in my car until his license plate came into view. KING EGO, it niftily read, and gave me an opening. “That’s quite a tag,” I commented, letting down my window. “It sure outdoes mine, PR BIZ.” Not knowing what else to say, he laughed and said there was a story behind it. (“A good-looking guy driving a BMW in a Manassas parking lot? He must be lost and needs directions,” was what he actually was thinking, Russ told me later.) The next day, I pulled behind the bank to see if his truck was there. It was. So I parked, taking a pen and sheet of paper out from my briefcase. “If you’re interested in having dinner with someone equally egotistical, give me a call,” I wrote, along with my name and number. I added, “The guy in the gray BMW,” since he wouldn’t know who I was just by my name. Inserting the note carefully under his left windshield wiper, I glanced around to make sure nobody was looking and then sped away. My God, what had I done? facebook/BoomerComingOutStory
Posted on: Mon, 16 Jun 2014 12:33:07 +0000
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