Veering Off The Invisible Script
Part II: Coming of Age, realizing my power
The first time I realize the “Invisible Script” I am on a business trip, solo in Southern California, and three thousand miles away from real life.
This script choreographs what a young woman should want, and how she should be. I don’t know who wrote this script. My parents don’t pressure me to marry or have children or work a particular kind of job. Only my father gives advice which, luckily, is aligned with my adventurous heart. “See the other side of the mountain. Then come home.”
I’m 23 when I do this thing I’ve wondered about every three or four years since I was 14.
I kiss a girl.
I meet a woman who I guess is gay. I stay out late at the bar in a group just so I can casually invite her to crash at my hotel.
The thought that strikes like lightning isn’t I’m gay…
In the Queen bed, I hammer her with questions.
Are you gay?
Are you sure?
How do you know?
What about men?
I am trying to find myself in her story.
She spends all night responding to my interrogation, god love her, not my touch. I’m way too shy to make a move. Not that I want to, even though the more she tells me, the more I’m drawn to her. At sunrise, she gives me a number and tells me to call her best friend who also lives in New York City and just started dating a woman. Her BFF and I should talk.
She showers. I call room service and order an extra toothbrush.
At the door, I thank her and ask if I can kiss her. I expect a lightning strike — whether the voice of a damning God or more likely what I hope will be a final verdict on my sexuality.
When our lips touch and I relax into a soft, scruff-less sensuality, the kiss doesn’t feel any more wrong or weird than kissing boys.
Still, my mind explodes.
The thought that strikes like lightning is not I’m gay. It is I am free.
In an instant, I realize my power.
I am free to reject expectations set by anyone or anything beyond myself.
I can kiss anyone I want.
I can ask anyone I like to spend time with me; not wait around to be chosen, or invited by a man.
I am free to own all my desires: at work, at play, and in relationship.
I am free to trust my instincts and follow my curiosity.
I am free to approach another to see if they’ll let me in.
I shut the hotel room door behind her, and make a vow.
From this moment forward, I set my agenda.
I create my life.
So, I do.
Willow Baum lives in New York’s Western Catskills and writes memoir and monologues about truth, freedom, and connection. She is also an end-of-life guide, planner, and “death doula” at FriendForTheEnd.com.
