Coming Out to the Fedex Goddess

Coming Out to the Fedex Goddess

Well kids, its that time again. A nip is in the air and cries of "Come out! Come out! Where ever you are!" are everywhere.
I truly believe in coming out - for bisexuals more than anyone. In this monosexual world, you are assumed straight if you're with a man; a lesbian if you're with a woman. You practically have to have sex on Main Street with more than one gender before someone thinks the "b" word. Then, you're just one of those kinky perverts.
True, it will be a beautiful day on this planet when no one cares - when you can just be yourself and that's enough.   But until that day, the best thing I can do is let my family, friends, coworkers know that the person across from them at lunch is bisexual� Maybe I can add one more shade to their definition.
OK, end of sermon. This isn't about why you should come out; there will plenty of that elsewhere. My big problem this year is: who to come out to. I've done the work thing, the friend thing, the family thing. My house is practically a shrine to all that is bi. My office has rainbow balloons, pins, bumper stickers, yada, yada.
But I'm not done by far. I could tell my dad� But that would require forcing him to decide between his psycho homophobic religion and me. And, h 6is prone to violence�. Ok, admit it - I'm a wimp! I'm not ready to risk that relationship quite yet. Right now, we're doing the "don't ask, don't tell" policy. As long as no words are shared, I can have all the bi stuff in my house. He still hasn't forgiven me for voting for Clinton!
I could tell the in-laws, but they've both just had double bypasses and I don't want to be held responsible for the next heart attacks. There's no one else in the family to tell (they all know). Lets see, friends? Everyone knows. Its a rite of passage in any friendship. Coworkers? My entire office (all 6 of us) knows. The home office half knows. I suppose I could send out an all@company email, but that seems kinda extreme.
I know, my Fedex goddess! She brings me stuff at least once a week. We chitchat a bit. We've made eye contact. She's even smiled at me. That's a relationship, right? Maybe its the uniform, but she seems dykey.   Who knows, maybe she'll drop to her knees and express her undying lust for me. She'll break down and beg me to marry her. She'll offer me the world.
Or maybe she'll be one of those biphobic types. Maybe she'll spit in my eye and tell me to die a slow painful death. What if she stops delivering my mail? What if she conveniently loses anything addressed to me? Or worse, what if she's the Unabomber's second cousin? What if, in her deep hostility-ridden obsession, she decides to build a bomb that will make me die a slow, painful death?   Will I ever be able to open another package delivered by her? Who in my office could I get to do the dirty deed for me?   I'd be given the task of deciding who will die and who will live, all because of this womyn's biphobia! Its too much to risk.
My postal carrier, on the other hand; she can only deliver packages the size of a magazine. Maybe we should talk�

-Wendy Curry

Activist Wanna be