Coming Out at Work

When I started my current job, I hid my sexuality like a dirty secret for two reasons: I was fired previously because the new boss took offense to me being gay (this conditioned my caution for highly devoted “Christians”), and my current job’s main corporate objective is to “Honor God in All We Do” (and last I heard, God apparently still hates fags). It eventually became a “don’t-ask-don’t-tell” situation, and nobody asked.  Instead, they speculated. It’s not fun being fodder for office gossip, but the possible alternative encouraged me to keep my mouth shut and my wrists flat.

For the first four months at my current job, I climbed in the corporate closet from 8 am until 5 pm. Once I was safely strapped into my car at the end of the day, I would release an exasperated, “Girl” and drive home, comfortable in my own skin again. I considered dropping subtle hints that would shed light on my taste for dick (you know, to test the water).  Some ideas that came to mind include:

- Submitting all hard copies to my boss on pink scented paper
- Staging fight in parking lot and instead of throwing punches, windmill. Real men don’t windmill.
- Demanding a desk by the window because “florescent lighting looks HORRIBLE for my skin tone.”
- Leaving my name and number with a non-discrete message on the men’s room wall at work “Cary gives great head…..oh and he’s HUGE too”;
- Joining the corporate softball team and every time I make a hit, run like a girl to first base (wrists out; arms stiff);
- When listing allergies on the medical emergency form, write “VAGINA” next to “other:________________”

Before I mustered the courage to execute any of the above, I was found out, and it all began with me unintentionally hurling a semi-salacious comment at my boss. I didn’t mean to. She and my co-worker just interpreted it that way.  It was casual Friday, and all I said was, “It’s nice to see you in jeans.”

My intention was to concisely express, “It’s good to see you casual at work since you are my boss, and I always see you dressed up which is kind of intimidating.”

I don’t remember where I placed the inflection of that simple sentence (whether it be on “you” or “nice”), but regardless, their interpretation was, ”Nice ass.”

After a moment of stunned silence, I asked, “What?” Why was the silence so awkward? Why were they looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong? “It’s nice to see you in….OH MY GOD!” My face burned.

My boss breaks the tension with laughter. My co-worker, seeing it was OK, laughed too.

“I’m taken. You can’t have me,” my boss jokes.

“I’m so sorry.  I swear I didn’t mean it like that! I was just…”

She interrupted, saying “It’s OK. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

After a few minutes of meaningless, casual conversation, she asks, “So, do you have a boyfriend?” 

I wonder what gave me away.