Oh come on—you knew that it was bound to happen. I’ve been trying to find a good excuse for ages! ;)
I am moving, and I had a girl I only met recently over, helping me to pack. (Believe it or not, we met at a House of Pies, a place I sometimes (admittedly very rarely) go to eat piece after piece after piece of various pies and/or cheesecakes until I nearly keel over from hyperglycemia—much to the utter bewilderment if not amusement of the so-called house’s employees). It was three in the morning and we were the only two there, me putting away my third slice of pumpkin and eyeing a chocolate banana cream and she, apparently looking for company.
I am not, generally, a very nice person, but, strangely enough, I’ve been in an exceptionally good mood (manic, much?) for a good three weeks. Of course it helped her case that she started with a really corny come on delivered with an absolutely straight face. :)
After disappointing her and ordering my slice of chocolate banana cream pie we settled into conversation and spent the rest of the night and most of the following morning just talking, reveling, if you will, in the fact that there is another person in this world strange enough to think that hanging around a House of Pies in the middle of the night isn’t so very terrible.
Anyhoo—to make a long story short, she and I, while not sharing too many interests (none, that I can think of, actually) seem to have much about which to talk and so do. :) And since I needed help boxing and hauling and Mai currently has me blacklisted persona non grata for “behavior not becoming a grown adult” (i.e. I am rebelling and doing things I like and that do not include work), I asked her to stop by my place.
It was after the forth of fifth load that she made a remark about the amazing amount of stuff I had managed to squeezed in one tiny apartment. I smiled at her, offering her a Diet Coke before divulging:
“There is something,” I spoke with deepest resolve, “that I believe you should know about me.”
She paused before questioning, “Yes?”
I offered another encouraging smile before continuing: “I only tell you this because I feel a really connection between the two of us and I think that you, as my friend, as someone I hope to spend a good deal of time with in the future, should know.” I paused, reveling in the gravity of my soon-to-be-made admission, “I...” I brought folded hands up to my lips, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling before catching her eyes, “...have a lot of shit.”
There was a momentary pause as she stood there, attempting, I can only guess, to reconcile what she had just heard with what she had been expecting to hear. Finally though, the dam burst, “God!” she exclaimed, slapping my arm, “Don’t say shit like that to a lesbian.”
I laughed. Of course I knew what she thought I was going to tell her. And I only tease because so soon after meeting her (over Bavarian cream pie, actually, and in nearly those very same words) she let loose with just such a determined, almost frightened admission, only that time, about her sexual preference (after which I just barely restrained myself from responding, “Well, doi!”).
Most lesbians I’ve known have been much more accepting of themselves. Perhaps she was just young. Perhaps she is a n00b (I only type thus to express my utter, utter hatred for webspeak). ;)
Either way, I have gotten a good laugh at her expense twice now, and I think that that means we really shall be getting along. :) Tee-hee!
[Addendum: The “Digimon” and “Other Anime” walls/murals/Jamalyn-desperately-needs-d