“Who were you talking with?” she asked playfully.
“S mojím priateľom” – ‘with my boyfriend,’ I replied.
The surgeon had just heard me end a telephone conversation with the words, “I love you.” Thinking that I had just made an amusing grammatical error, she then asked, “Priateľom alebo priateľkou?” – ‘boyfriend or girlfriend?’
“S mojím priateľom” – ‘with my boyfriend,’ I reaffirmed.
And with that, the proverbial cat was out of the bag.
I had already told my general practitioner and her staff about my impending marriage to J. It was necessary to inform the doctor, as a man of my age sometimes requires help where intimacy is concerned. While my GP did not hide her surprise, she was nonetheless cooperative in finding me a suitable specialist. The head nurse, on the other hand, appeared unsurprised and wholly disinterested.
That day was the first in which I revealed my sexual preference to anyone in Slovakia. There had been many hints that I planted in Facebook posts, some more obvious than others. But never anything explicit. It was not as though I was living “in the closet.” It was just that the topic never came up in conversation. Although surely some in the village suspected my predilection, there was no reason to discuss my love life since it was nonexistent – that is until March when I fell madly in love with J.
When I asked J to marry me, he did not say “yes.” Nor did he say “no.” He needed time to think. And if he needed time, that was fine; I would wait. But I began to see tactics that I suspected were artificial roadblocks, such as a proposed year-long engagement and concern about the effect of marriage on his social benefits. My hopes were being crushed. Each time we spoke, I could not hide the sadness in my eyes. But I knew that, were I to act more assertively, I might lose him forever. I therefore decided that, when next we spoke, I would put on a happy face and pretend that all was right with the world. Afterall, a boyfriend in the hand is better than a husband in the bush.
I was mentally prepared for future conversations, so I was greatly surprised the next time we spoke. He said “yes.” He told me he didn’t want to see me looking so sad. While I eventually coaxed out of him more coherent reasons to marry me, the reasons didn’t really much matter that much. I was ecstatic that he said yes.
These last few months have been especially emotional. J and I have had countless discussions and several misunderstandings, some quite serious. Our disagreements have been at times emotionally draining and very confusing to someone who has never been particularly skilled in interpersonal relations. But, at nearly sixty-nine years of age, I am learning. Patience, understanding, empathy, compromise, humility, selflessness: all these traits are strengthening within me. And while I was head-over-heels crazy in love in March, the infatuation has dissipated while my love for J matures and deepens.
What has not been particularly emotional is my friends’ reception to my marriage announcement. Slovakia is not known for its progressive stance on LGBTQ+ issues. In fact, it fairs far worse than its neighbors, Hungary and Poland, with 63% of the population opposing equal rights for queer people. Living in a small, provincial village in eastern Slovakia, I was concerned about negative reactions. But it seems that my fears were unfounded; despite these statistics, everyone I told has been congratulatory and supportive. Although there are certainly gossips in the village (I’m looking at you, M.), I have not been personally confronted, nor has there been any vandalism.
I suppose my next step is to hang a rainbow flag and open a gay bar.