but first i want to say omG i’m sorry i disappeared. honestly, i’ve had a rough coupla weeks. lots of headaches, but more than that, five million deadlines and a bad cold to boot. colds suck. plus i’m a baby. hollys says to me when i’m sick, “you’re worse than a man!” i can soldier thru migraines that would make the average person drop to their knees, but give me a sore throat and a bad sinus headache and i turn into a blubbering mess.
ok, time for a story:
(and i meant to tell you sooner–and actually started to write an entry–but, alas, couldn’t finish it b/c i didn’t feel good enough)
so last weekend was this big baltimore marathon. we only remembered when we were midway thru a walk down to starbucks in canton and saw all these streets blocked off. we get to this main road and there’s a cop parked in the middle of it, just directing traffic around the park, leaning up against his car. (i know i told you this was a gay story, but i’m afraid it’s not that type of story–tho that does kick off a potentially interesting storyline but ANYWAY i digress) so we say hi, howyadoin, and walk across the street. (we always chat it up w/police officers b/c holly’s stepdad and step-brothers are all cops) so all the sudden he pipes up with something along the lines of, “ACTUALLY i’m NOT doing fine!” and starts laughing saying he’d rather not be directing traffic on a saturday morning and marathons stink and etc. so we walk back to him and joke around. i notice his hat says “detective” as we’re walking away, and say to holly, hey, he’s a detective, maybe we should talk to him about that drug house? (seems like every neighborhood in balitmore has one of those. ours doubles as like a brothel or something. nice!) so she’s like, good idea! we walk back and start asking him questions about what we can do, since when we report it, nothing happens and sometimes–you know, when things get really exciting and the pimps are breaking bottles on each others’ heads and no i’m not kidding but hotdamn that sounds funny(!)–the po’po don’t even show up.
after frankly explaining (and we do appreciate frank explanations) that really and truly, baltimore has so much bigger problems and they can’t always do much about these things (no comment on all that, i’ll just move on), he suggests that we go down to our district’s police station. like, just walk in. b/c they’re likely to actually listen to us there. then he sort of looks us up and down and well…ok, so here’s some context:
we had just woken up. we left the house shortly after 8am on a saturday. i was wearing my favorite t-shirt from the baltimore tattoo museum, jeans, (dorky but solid) running shoes and a baseball-style (but much cooler, ‘natch) black hot (from hot topic, also ‘natch–and hello! got it for 50% off, sha-weet!) with pink skulls and flowers on the top. holly was wearing adidas running pants, some kinda nike t-shirt, sneakers and a (real) baseball hat (pittsburgh pirates!). so he says something like, “now, i’m gonna go out on a limb here and i’m gonna say something that, well, could be a little offensive. should i go ahead and say it?” and we’re like, friggin a, what the hell, w/out even looking at each other. i totally knew what was coming.
“sure,” we say. i knew holly knew, too.
“i’m gonna go out on a limb and venture to say that you two are in an alternative lifestyle?”
and we’re like, sigh, “yeah.”
and then he goes on about how we really ought to go into the district station together b/c you know, since we’re in an “alternative lifestyle” and all, they’ll take us more seriously b/c of (gulp) hate crimes (G-d forbid, omg) and whatnot. and he’s black and heck, he “plays the race card” and everything. and we’re just like, what??? look, i mean the guy was nice but geezohman, right??
so we finish up the conversation and we finally get across that doggone street and i take a deep breathe and say to holly, “WELL GEEZ DO I REALLY LOOK THAT GAY??!” and we both start laughing and she’s like, “i knew that was gonna be the first thing outta your mouth!” she blamed herself for his…brave guess, we’ll say. “dead giveaway,” she says. and i have to agree. b/c her outfit, admittedly, was a little gay. she assures me that if i was walking by myself no one would really think that much of anything. [not that looking “gay” is bad, per se. but iJs. (i’m JUST saying)] i mean, even when i go to a gay club no one thinks i’m gay. just the bi-curious straight girl along for the ride. to, you know, experiment.]
anyway, we’re walking along kind of in shock about the whole thing. first off, we were like why didn’t one of us say (w/our blingy engagement rings on, i may add), “what the HELL are you talking about??? that is my COUSIN, officer! and my boyfriend’s gonna be PISSED!!!” but as all of you know, i’m sure, we usually think of those great comebacks way after the fact. then we’re like, wtf!!! ALTERNATIVE LIFESTYLE?!
note to all non-gays reading this: if you want to piss someone gay off, just call their LIFE an “alternative lifestyle.” oh now i’m gonna go on a rant. a well-intentioned person casually (and earnestly) asked me over the summer, “so, what do your parents think of your alternative lifestyle choice?” and i’m like, w-w-w-what? no, i didn’t flinch actually. but interally i did. it’s like a punch to the gut. here’s why:
first off, “alternative” is, like, being a satan worshipper or a vampire or something. tell me: what’s so friggin alternative about falling asleep with holly on the couch on a friday night? and the fact that we, um, cook dinner together? and like, go grocery shopping and stuff? WOW THAT’S SO ALTERNATIVE! and if you’re, say, a swinger, that’s a “lifestyle.” and both of those are CHOICES. being a gay is not a choice. let me repeat: BEING GAY IS NOT A CHOICE. why would i CHOOSE to spend the majority of high school crying alone in my room b/c i felt like such an outcast? why would i CHOOSE to feel ostracized from my community, religion and family? why on EARTH would anyone CHOOSE to be the butt of jokes, to be marginalized, to not be able to visit your partner if he or she is in the hospital? why would a coupla average girls like holly and i CHOOSE to travel up to PA this weekend and, w/our hearts in our throats, have to “break the news” to her grandma that we’re getting married, half-expecting her to cry?? why would CHOOSE nearly two years of heartache re: this wedding when we ought to be celebrating? no one would choose this. don’t get me wrong, i’m happy w/my lot in life. but saying that i live an alternative lifestyle? and one that i’ve “chosen,” no less? sorry, but notsomuch. not. so much.
ahem. so. clearly there’s a lot of issues at play here. and that cop should have never said what he did b/c, well, it was just inappropriate. (and trust me, i’m trained as a reporter. i do remember things and i’m very good at getting ppl on the phone and making them listen to me and i could very easily report this entire incident to the city police force. but i’m not going there and honestly, i really don’t think he meant anything by it. he was just trying to help us in his own way.) and i refuse to believe i looked all that gay. (ok, now i’m laughing.) and all my ranting above.
so we are indeed driving up to PA (“pee-ay”) this weekend to talk to holly’s grandma. we’re not looking forward to it, but it must be done. we’re (huge gulp!) less a month away from the wedding and holly just can’t go on not telling her anymore. i mean, look. when you get right down to it, we’re really just a couple of downright good girls who happen to love each other. we hold hands in the car. we fall asleep on the couch together. she brings me advil when i have a headache. i make her chocolate milk before she leaves for work in the morning. not so different, not all that alternative. i’m absolutely crazy about grandmothers, holly’s especially. and holly loves her like crazy. so please think good thoughts for us. b/c when you’re sitting in grandma’s cozy, carpeted house, hands cold as ice w/the one you love sitting next to you on a floral-print sofa, the last thing you want to do is break her heart.