Blindsight

Of late, being a widow with a relationship, one that is rather mysteriously wonderful even to me, I have encountered something new. Blindsight. The best way to explain what this odd "disease" is, is to remind you of small children who put their hands over their eyes to make the world disappear. Or, as adults,as in my present case, how we cover our eyes at sights that offend us. My relationship involves people who are offended by it and thus "cover their eyes" to my existence that they see as offensive. My name, even, is the word they do not say. In this way, presumably, I have not happened to their family and they can carry on blindly and happily lolling and wallowing in their nice little world. I am not to "come out" to use the modern term for it.  The object of their protective attention and my rejection, is a significant person in my life and they have no intention of taking their hands from their eyes to "see" who has violated their sacred circle. To me, the perpetrator of their discomfit, it is not painful as hoped, so much as amusing. It doesn't change my satisfying relationship, nor does it remove me from their environment.  So what is the purpose? I rest my case.  In fact, the longer this goes on, the bigger it grows like the proverbial elephant under the carpet. Two years of carpet existence should stop the silliness, but nay.  One must, at least, admire their tenacity but, at the same time, amaze at this childish blindsight by adults. The longer it goes on, the sillier it becomes. My lover excuses with: "they're not ready yet", "it isn't time", "they will eventually come around".  Ready for what?  Talk about "coming out".  I am out. I've never been in. It begs the question, who actually is in the closet? Ah, blindsight.