I ventured out to Wal-Mart with a friend Tuesday night so that he could pick up some items for his new pet rats.

We hit up the pet supplies area of the store and came across a friendly sales associate who helped us with all our rodent needs. We asked questions and she kindly helped us along the way, all the while noting and finding humor in my obvious hatred of these little, furry animals.

She asked if I would be living with the rats, and I said no. Then she asked if my friend and I were dating, and at this point I lost it. I burst out laughing as if I just heard the most hilarious joke ever. And then it hit me -- why exactly was I laughing? Anyone who knows either of us would know that not only does he have a girlfriend, but I do as well.

Why did I just assume that, without any prior knowledge, she would know there was no way we were an item? I pondered this question for the rest of the night, and then it hit me: there was no reason for her not to consider this a feasible arrangement.

It is a natural instinct to assume a person is heterosexual when you meet him or her unless you are explicitly told otherwise. After all, a vast majority of people are straight, so it really isn't that much of a stretch to think virtually everyone you meet is attracted to the opposite sex.

I once heard a saying that went something like this: "It is much easier to be black than to be gay because when you're black you don't have to tell your mother." As outlandish as this statement is, it's entirely true.

How are people such as the Wal-Mart associate supposed to know I'm gay if I don't tell her? Up until the other evening I figured a lot of people "would just know" and those that didn't would be able to pick up on it rather quickly.

Society has also allowed it to become standard practice to identify a person solely on the basis of their sexual orientation. No longer am I "Jen the person," but I am merely "Jen the queer."

Often -- although not often enough -- it is without intentional malice. Because you can't tell someone is gay, the only way anyone knows you are gay is when you tell them. And in a society that always discusses dating, the opposite sex and the random hookup, it's a detail that comes up quickly in most casual conversations if you are out in the open about it.

So you're then backed into that corner at a party, or at the store, talking to someone new about life and relationships and about four lines into your conversation -- to keep an honest dialogue going -- the words "my girlfriend" come out of your mouth.

The gay label is born. And with this newfound identity, out the window go all of the aspects of my "former" identity people have not yet learned; including the daughter, sister, student, colleague and friend.

None of that matters anymore; all that matters is my innate attraction to girls.

Once a person's homosexuality is disclosed, things get awful tricky awfully quick. Many people aren't quite sure how to react, or even if they should react at all. What do you say? "Oh ... I'm sorry ..." seems to be what most people automatically think, as if there is absolutely nothing worse to be in the entire world.

While I had no problem telling my friends and having them accept my sexuality, I am sometimes wary of telling mere acquaintances because I think it will make the relationship awkward. To people who know very little about me, except for example my name, age, and sexuality, I often become "Jen the queer."

And I'm fine with that. It's not all of who I am. But to this society, it often becomes that, and that's the problem all of us in the community face.

Society has it ingrained in its collective mind that belonging to the LGBT community automatically makes you a second-class citizen, and because of this, gay people have a tough time fitting in. I have become so jaded that I no longer question, but accept this as the way it is.

But there is so much more to who I am than who I sleep with, and it has come time for me to take back all parts of my identity. The last time I checked I was still a daughter, sister, student, friend and an up-and-coming member of society, and this will not change any time soon.

So I can't wait until the day that I can tell someone I'm gay and not get the shocked stare -- and do it without wearing a giant "I'm gay" T-shirt as a warning.