I love my mother. She’s my absolute favorite person in the entire world. Like all mothers and daughters, I’m sure, we went through some rough patches in my teenage years but since my twenties we’ve been the best of friends. To the annoyance of my father and sister, I usually talk to my mother on the phone no less than 3 times daily. She literally knows everything about me-anything that is going wrong or right she knows about. I’ve told her things I’m sure she’s never really wanted to know but that’s just how I am when it comes to her.
Except now. On my last visit home, in March, I told her (finally) that I was “probably” gay. She basically responded that I just needed to get some dick in me (it had been a long, long, long, long while) Granted, I’m sure that it was the last thing she expected to come out of my mouth-but it was something that’d been in my head for years and the only thing that I’d kept from her.
Fast forward to now, I’m seeing a girl, Lady M, who makes me feel like I can walk on water…(no, I’m not comparing myself to Christ). The point is that she makes me feel really happy-the happiest I’ve been in a long time. So long, in fact, that I can’t remember when I’ve been this happy. So the first person I want to talk to about it is Mom. And she’s not having ANY of it. She’s actually trying to hook me up with a “really nice man” …whom she’s never met in her life. For all I know he could be a serial killer-or a closeted homo-but because he has a dick, I’m to meet him.
Today she asked about my plans for the remainder of the day and I told her that they included the possibility going to dinner with Lady M and her parents. To which she responded, “well, I have to go now, sweetie. Call you tomorrow”