Who here can say they didn’t watch And Just Like That? Headlines were made both on the show and off, but let’s be honest—the real draw this season was the storyline featuring Miranda and Che. Lesbian and Bisexual women around the country were in a tizzy watching their relationship play out. Hell, I’m sure there were a fair number of straight women watching with rapt attention as well. For me, it was like seeing my life played out on the screen. Here’s why.
I survived 25 years of marriage, which is remarkable in today’s relationship economy, and then I decided to blow it all up. In the deep recesses of my soul, I had known my marriage was over before it even began.
When you walk down the aisle after saying “I do” and think to yourself, What the hell did I just do? it’s pretty clear you aren’t off to a good start. But I had assumed that both my tenacity and my ability to compartmentalize would carry me to the finish line.
It wasn’t horrible, our marriage. It was more of a tolerable business arrangement that produced three beautiful children and a year or two—here and there—of subdued happiness. My former husband is a good man, just not a good man for me. I had long ago given up any dream of a passionate love affair, and instead opted for a safe but loveless relationship.
This was a conscious decision on my part, and I worked to make it as good as possible under the circumstances.
Courtesy of Steve Johnston.
I learned very young to shy away from having big dreams. I set my expectations low to keep disappointment at bay and learned to disappear when things got dicey. I developed secret worlds in my mind to escape the realities of living with an alcoholic father, and became skilled at taking care of myself when I couldn’t depend on my mother. Now, at the end of my forties, I was finally ready to create something different for myself.
Like Miranda, I arrived at a point where I knew I needed to prioritize my happiness over making everyone else comfortable. This meant severing my relationship with my husband. I needed to explore my sexuality—and for the first time in my life, I started to hope for a slice of happiness that had previously felt out of reach.
I knew, even as a young child, that I was different. I was never the little girl waiting for her prince to show up; I was a young girl longing to find her queen. I fantasized about what it might be like to explore a relationship with a woman, and I’m here to tell you that the fantasy pales in comparison to reality.
I met her at work, the love of my life, and I was smitten. I could see the slow-mo movie montage playing in my mind even before we dated. Muted sepia tones with gauzy curtains softly blowing in the breeze, You Take My Breath Away playing gently in the background. It wasn’t just good; it was perfect.
Now, at the end of my forties, I was finally ready to create something different for myself.
The first time she and I explored each other is seared into my memory. It was an experience I never believed could be mine, and it was so much better than I had ever imagined. It felt like walking through a desert for years and suddenly stumbling, parched, upon a beautiful freshwater spring. I didn’t just want to drink from it; I wanted to immerse myself in it. In her.
I felt unfettered freedom to both touch and be touched. I lost all my inhibitions in the most beautiful of ways. I felt like I was starting life over again at 50. Everything was new, and the future suddenly looked spectacular.
Setting yourself free to love without restraint, without hiding, is an exhilarating experience. I was so drunk on this newfound freedom that I didn’t have enough sense to be afraid or worry about what others might think.
I had denied myself for so long that I reached a point where I didn’t care any longer. The closet I kept myself in had nearly killed me, and I wasn’t about to close the door on myself again.
Closets are for shoes and purses, not our sexuality.
Courtesy of Steve Johnston.
Watching Miranda interact with Che and discover her passion is eroticism at its best. I see myself in those scenes—the attraction, electricity, and whole-body buzz that happens when aroused. No wonder fans can’t get enough!
We tend to want life to fit into neat little boxes. But what if our sexuality was on a continuum? What if we allowed ourselves the opportunity to experience attraction without a category attached to it? What if we permitted ourselves to explore? We might find something hidden deep within us that is beautiful and exciting.
I had denied myself for so long that I reached a point where I didn’t care any longer.
As grateful as I am for the mind-blowing sex I’ve experienced with my partner, I am beyond thankful that I also found my person. We have surpassed ten years now, and we continue to grow and strengthen our love for one another. There is no one I’d rather spend the day with and no one who knows me in the vulnerable way that she does.
Many a past Valentine’s Day went by accompanied by a deep depression, as I spent years without the love I so desperately longed for. I kept waiting for someone to rescue me and free me to live a vibrant life of love. Then, I realized that I needed to be my own rescuer. I needed to don my red cape and save myself.
She was worth waiting for. And this liberation of mine was worth every hard decision and every gut-wrenching moment I went through to get it. Love is worth fighting for, and the freedom to love who we choose is the greatest of gifts.
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