Thanks Mom

When I came out to my mom, we were walking down Davie St. I was 19, I’d never had a girlfriend, so I never felt like I had a reason to announce my queerness. I mean, there just isn’t a graceful way to inform a family member of your sexual preferences out of the blue.

“Hey mom, I like pussy! And dicks! If I met someone with both I’d probably like that too!”

Not that my way was all that much better.

Anyway, fade back to Davie St. I’m talking about the cute barista at the coffee shop next door to my work and she nudges me and says, “You know, if you keep talking about cute girls when you move down here, people are going to think you’re a lesbian.”

My guard is immediately up when I snap, “What’s wrong with that?”

She explains that it’s misleading. If a woman was interested in me, it would sound like I was DTF. Okay no, she doesn’t say DTF.

And then it just comes out (ha!): “Mom, I would date a woman if I was single.” I don’t know if that says more about me and my tact or more about my mother, and how easy it is to tell her something and know she’s going to accept you.

And she did without even flinching. Just an “oh, okay” before accidentally wandering into Little Sisters under the impression it was a book store.