This weekend’s retreat with the gay men’s chorus was a lot.
Overall, it wasn’t as difficult or as emotionally overwhelming or upsetting to me as the first one had been, in October, when I was still a complete newbie and really struggling socially with this group of people that was still so foreign to me.
This time it was very intense — as all these retreats are bound to be, for all of us there — and in many ways “experimental” and/or “exploratory” for me.
Firstly, on the one hand, there’s the fact that I myself am a very different person, and at a different stage of my life, now with respect to six months ago when I had just joined this chorus and went on the first retreat. On the other hand, the environment in which this retreat took place was different from the one in October: in the fall, we went to a place that was new for the chorus, thus unfamiliar to everyone; this weekend, instead, we went back to a venue where this chorus has been for years, that feels comfortable and familiar to most of the chorus members, thus enabling habits, activities, and dynamics (beyond the singing practice) that are long-established within this group of people.
So in some ways this was the first retreat for me where I really plunged into this chorus’ social bubble. And I pushed my comfort-zone a lot.
After the liberating, empowering, joyful experience of gender-bending at the fundraiser dance party the chorus had last Thursday, where I wore a gold flapper dress and danced all night, I took another gender-bending leap and wore another flamboyant femme outfit at the retreat dinner on Saturday night. And again, while a little scary and definitely still out of my comfort-zone, it also felt liberating, empowering, and joyful. It feels like a reclaiming of myself, of parts of my identity, while also showing myself more to this group of people.
Then, later Saturday night, I joined the pool party, wearing only my Speedo-like swimsuit.
The pool party was rough. There was (for me) an uncomfortable, almost painful element of awkwardness because of the recent ending of the relationship between me & the gender-expansive gay guy with whom I had hooked up. But beyond, or besides that, there was also a renewed sense of not belonging fully. As my baritone friend with whom I ended up spending most fo the time at the pool party said, “there was a lot going on in that pool…”! And as I said to my baritone friend, I could tell that there was “a lot going on” but I was also confused by it — aware that there was “a lot going on” while also aware that I didn’t “get” or want to partake in what was “going on”.
My ace/aro orientation, and maybe even my autistic brain, constitute a barrier that to some extent in unsurmountable, to my being fully part of this group of people. I will always be an outsider, at least to a certain extent. And this feels painful to me.
However, I do believe that part of the pain can be assuaged by “finding my people” within this group of people. At large, this is already “my people”, in the sense that it is a loving, accepting, safe, supportive community. But it is also a very diverse group of people. One could say that there are “a hundred shades of gay” within this chorus. I can respect and accept and love and support everyone in this chorus but I don’t necessarily have to like, or really connect with, everyone — on the contrary. For instance, the gender-expansive gay guy with whom I had hooked up is not a good choice for me as someone with whom to pursue anything, nor are most of the people closer to him in the chorus. Nor is my chorus-assigned Big Sibling. Nor are the guys who are — as far as my ace/autistic brain can tell — being flirty with me.
My people are probably those who say to me, “You’re a wonderful person!” (as opposed to “You’re hot”); or those who say about themselves & me, “I don’t get social cues — that’s why he & I get along so well”, accepting me and liking me not only despite, but because of, my difficulties with “in-between-the-lines” social cues; or those who, without my needing to say anything, somehow understand that I need a hug or support, and come over, ask how I’m doing, and offer me that hug and hold me; or those who, seeing that I’m on the verge of a meltdown because at the end of a long day socializing my hotel-room reservation has somehow been canceled, help me by reconfirming that reservation for me.
These are “my people” — not the gender-expansive gay guy with whom I had hooked up. The experience with the latter was fun and affirming, to a certain extent. An experiment in my journey. A taste of something new to me, which was good in the moment but needs to be left behind.
Finding “my people” within this larger group of people is probably going to take time, maybe more time than I would like or expect. It’s also going to take some internal clarifying on my part, within myself, of what I really want, or need, from this chorus and from people within this group. It might take a while and it might be hard, or confusing, and it will require me to “give space” — give space to myself, my needs, my desires, and also give space to other persons, to new relationships.
As I wrote last week, I guess, “a hole is a space I can fill”. And maybe, hopefully, eventually I can fill it with “my people”.
The Little Prince and the Fox 