Somewhere between "oops" and "ooh noooooo"

So, it's Christmas. Good ol' December 25th. I'm not a fan, but a lot of people are, so let's not dwell on that.

What today's date also means is that I'm basically a hair's breadth away from being 31 years old. I've changed a lot over the past few years (a lot of it for the better, I'd say), and one thing I thought I had gotten over was my ability to completely and utterly embarrass myself to the point of not being able to replay the situation over and over in my head until I collapse. It's useless in terms of damage control and it isn't particularly kind to my mental state, but I had managed to lose that part of myself a while ago.

At least, I thought I had.

Last week, late in the evening, Mike's exwife stopped by to grab something their son had left at our place. Our place, the tiny mess. Our place, where you enter in the living room and can see my command center of a computer in its entirety, the monitors readable at a step or  two from the door.

On the main screen was Facebook, and in the corner was a conversation with my friend Rex. In that conversation was the phrase "whenever Mike starts talking to new people on OkCupid."

Fuck.

So the exwife came into the apartment, took a few steps toward the table/desk we spend most of our time at, and, I fear, read the conversation. The one that points toward a non-standard relationship. The type of relationship she has hinted at being unacceptable and worth hauling his ass into court over in the hopes of taking his parental rights away.

Nope, that panicky embarrassment is still there, front and center.

Fuck.

I tried to figure out if coming out to people about my sexuality and facing rejection was worse than accidentally coming out as poly/open to a potentially hostile woman whose existence in our lives is dictated by the existence of the stepson I adore beyond reason. Maybe it's the fact that I'm now half a lifetime away from the days I admitted I "like girls," but this actually feels more painful. The harassment back then was awful, but this? This potentially carries more weight.

Mike's response to the situation was, initially "fuck her" (not literally) and that, if it came up, we would deal with it. He didn't blame me or say I fucked up (that's all me), and his feeling was, if she says anything, he has no problem pointing out that she shouldn't have been reading my screen, regardless of it being out in plain view.

Meanwhile, I'm just hoping it doesn't come up. I spend enough time feeling alienated in terms of being able to talk to people about how our relationship works that I don't need someone to know who will ultimately have a problem with it -- more than the average person does to begin with, I guess.

What's fun is that I'm totally in favor of people just being out and open about their sexuality and their relationships. But because I'm still not comfortable with the perception of certain flavors of relationships, it keeps me from actually engaging the part of myself that is polyamorous and bisexual. I'll admit to being a total wimp and taking the easy way out and hiding in the appearance of heteronormativity, sticking to admitting ladycrushes to my husband and a few friends and playing loops of sexy-girl-time in my head when the situation warrants it.

Standard stuff, I guess, for most married people. It just makes me feel like a fraud.

Ultimately, the panic has lessened enough that I can function again, but I'm still afraid. Thankfully we will be out of this apartment soon and you can be damn sure I will be hiding my computer screen better in the next place.