I may or may not have mentioned this, but I have a rule that my family knows about. I will not bring a guy home for them to meet unless it means he’s locked in. In other words, when/if I ever bring a dude around for them to meet, they better learn to love him because he’s staying. I’m very up front about this.
Apparently, my uncle and his fiancee decided that means I’m a lesbian. And that Mad Madam M is my significant other since she’s the only person I drag along to family event. Hey, the family is insane. Only locked in people get to meet them–and we’ve both decided that we’re way too old to train a new best friend, so the only way either of us is getting out is in a body bag. It works for us.
When my uncle and his now-wife-but-then-fiancee insisted I bring M to the wedding as my date and then went on for a half hour about how supportive of their lesbian couple friends that were coming to the wedding, it took us a second to catch on.
They left for the day and M turns to me and says: You know they think we’re a lesbian couple, right?
Me: Yeah, I caught on to the subtle vibe after the first fifteen minutes.
M: Um, well. At least they’re supportive of your preferences.
Me: They assume I’m gay because I don’t scare men by forcing them to meet the family. And they wonder why.
M: On the bright side, they think I’m cute enough to turn you to the dark side. Now your mom is never getting grandkids.
Me: She was never getting grandkids from me anyway, and she already has a granddaughter from my brother so she’ll live. What bothers me is that you’re girlier than me in general, which means they don’t just think I’m a lesbian, they think I’m the butch lesbian of our relationship.
M: Yeah, that does suck for you.
Me: Shut up!
Fast forward six months to Thanksgiving. I hung out with grams and gramps and then head over to M’s place for her family dinner. M and her mom have been cooking for days, and then we’re standing for an hour or so doing dishes. Anyone who’s done the holidays knows it’s killer on the back and feet. After we’re done, we escape to M’s room to watch a cheesy movie and I’m giving M one of my famous massages (everyone gets one, it’s my savant skill ;) ) and her uncles walk in and ogle us like they caught us doing something lewd. I give them the what-the-fuck look and they hurry out.
She turns back to me.
M: You realize now my family thinks we’re lesbians together, too.
Me: Yep. You shameless hussy, bring your lesbian lover to a family dinner. Tsk, tsk.
M: Shut up!
Meanwhile, M’s neighbor is going out of town for turkey day and asks her to keep an eye on the place, turn lights on every night so it looks like someone is there, etc. She also offers the house to M if she wants to use her TV or whatever to watch a movie. M mentions I’m coming to town so we might take her up on it as a way to escape family-time holiday madness. The neighbor’s response was, “Oh, Crystal’s coming.” She goes off on how it’s important that M and I get our private, alone time away from family. Since we haven’t seen each other in months. And she understands our need for private time. Mind you, this woman has never even met me, but apparently she thinks M and I are a couple, too. And she offered us her house as a lesbian love shack.
So, we’re walking over to the neighbor’s house to turn on the porch light for the evening.
Me: *singing* The loooooove shack is a little old place where we can get togeeeeether.
M: *laughing* Oh, yeah. Bow chica bow bow.
And that’s why she’s my best friend. But in a totally platonic, non-lesbian way. People are so weird, I swear.
