It's been two months, I think, since my mom and I had that conversation about my sexuality. And hey, whaddya know, nothing's been said ever since. The only time I brought it up after that was when I told her I came out to a couple of my close friends and her response was, "Be careful who you tell." Thing is, she grew up in a rural Illinois high school with only a hundred students. There was one lesbian in her class who was constantly tormented, even threatened physically. I think that's stuck in her mind. When she looks at me, she sees that girl. Even though things have improved, she just can't seem to grasp the unlikelihood of me ever being in danger because I told the wrong people.
At the very most, I may just get hostile stares or overhear homophobic remarks from grossed-out girls who don't even matter, but my mom doesn't get that. She won't ask me questions, she won't bring it up. I don't want to shove pamphlets or internet articles in her face or anything. I just want us to continue that conversation we had so very long ago. There's no anger or bitterness, but there's no openness either. The elephant in the room has shrunk, but it's still there.
When I was getting ready to go to Brittany's, I acted like the most stereotypical lovestruck teenager I could; I pranced around the house singing, I fretted about my appearance, I broke into a fit of grins and giggles whenever Brittany texted me (some of this was exaggerated so my mom would get the message, but sadly, most of it was real). And when our plans were canceled, I moped. A lot. I don't know how I could make it any more obvious. My mom and I both are at a loss as to how to resume that conversation. So I dunno. It's frustrating.
Brittany gave me two of her poems today. Her poems make mine look so incredibly pretentious and overdone. Her style is simple, vivid, and touching. I could definitely learn a thing or two about poetry from her. She's a better poet than I, and I'm not just saying that because I absolutely adore her.
The more I get to know her, the more respect I have for her. She's just...beautiful. In every possible way. I interviewed her for the paper today. She told me that her greatest pet peeve is intolerance. She wants to join the Peace Corps. She studies religion and has been questioning everything about life. Damn it, can this girl get any more perfect? She just...I don't even...I can't...*sigh*...
I told a friend of a friend of a friend that I'm gay. I was going to say that I hope she doesn't go around telling everybody, but then I realized that I don't give a fuck anymore. She can tell whoever she wants, really. Brittany was sitting on a bench by herself and I was telling my bro friend Judd how I just wanted to run up to her and hug her, and then this chick overheard me, and she's like "Why? Is she ugly or something?"
No! She's the most beautiful girl in the world! So I ranted to her, sort of accidentally, about how pretty and wonderful Brittany is, and you can imagine how quickly she was able to guess. She's kind of a rich, spoiled bitch though, so I can just picture her telling ALL of her little sophomore friends.
My friend Anna got dumped by her boyfriend over Facebook. She started freaking out because she's convinced he'll tell anyone who will listen about all of the sexual shenanigans they partook in together. So I had to help her through that. And my other friend, who is somehow even more of a recluse than I am, was asked to prom by some chubby guy with fish lips. And she started freaking out about that. She never gets out of her damn house. And THEN my other friend was yapping to me about getting back together with her ex, which I'm sure will be a complete trainwreck. I love my friends, but I hate listening to them.