Today I was spending some time with a friend that is moving away this week. A group of us were hanging out together, sharing old memories. He begins recounting a story about me, “One time I was at Ellie’s house for a party and she was pretty tipsy. Well. . .”

At this point I turn scarlet, I remember what I said at that party and start to get mortified.

He continues, “. . .Well, she loudly starts announcing how much she likes anal sex. And then asks me to confirm how great it is.”

At this point the other people in the room start to giggle and I feel like crawling under a piece of furniture.

I have no explanation for my embarassment, save that casual acquaintances aren’t usually privy to this sort of information about me. As I told J the story about what had happened I couldn’t quite muster together a reason to be ashamed. And even in that moment of my friend telling the story, I was prepared to defend my statements, piping in with a, “Yeah, I was drunk but there is nothing wrong with anal sex.”

Now I am interrogating this moment of horror that I experienced at being “outed” as an anal sex lover or even as a participant in it. For awhile I thought of my sexuality as a dark secret, something to giggle about with lovers, something to share sheepishly with only my closest friends (and thousands of anonymous web surfers.) I’m increasingly feeling more open about it, though. So why was I so mortified today as my friend spilled the beans? I retain some shame that I can’t let go of, some level of embarassment, a fear that I will be viewed as different in the eyes of other.

I don’t have a fully coherent thought formed about this yet other than I found it unsettling that I was so unsettled. Has something like this happened to any of you? How did it feel to be outed as a sexual libertine?