Had a recent dinner with Olive and Signe – so much fun, and reminded me of how sad it is that so many of my friends have moved away within the last year or so. At dinner O and I were recounting the first time we met (she was a mutual friend though two people – she was in grad school with Rev and had gone to undergrad with Cali, oddly enough. Small damn queer world, eh?) After sitting next to one another at a grad school function (which I was attending because Rev and I were still in a relationship at the time, and which Olive was attending because, well, she went to grad school there) several of us decided to go out dancing at the local gayladyclub. Olive and I – having spent the past 2 or so hours sitting next to one another – were basically immediate best friends. We somehow decided that I would accompany her to her house so she could get gayladyclub-prepared, and then she would accompany me to mine, where I would get similarly prepared – and also, we would take some shots. (How shots so quickly entered the mix, I do not know… but I like it.) A small amount of primping and several shots of rum later (rum! ha) we began the short trek to the club. On the way Olive’s bra somehow broke, and we got hopelessly lost, both I think mostly due to the drunkenness. And from that point forward, we were inseparable (in mind, if not body. We actually often refer to ourselves in the singular as “The Brain” because we fairly consistently say the same things at the same time with the same inflection. It’s odd. But again… I like it.)
In sum, I present the Beautiful Friendship Equation:
+ team rum!
+ bra sighting
+ no sense of direction
= long-lasting bond.
Seriously, for all that she is something of a trauma magnet (we’re talking about the woman who has set her hair on fire, and once fell off a roof and… well, I’ll quit while I’m ahead) she is also the kind of person who walks in and shifts the energy of any room for the better. Got her finger on the pulse of joy, that one. Man I miss her.
In other news… I told my mom about the engagement. It went pretty much the way I expected, which I can live with. That is, I told her, and she cried, and said that she was happy that I was happy but she would need some time. And then we changed the subject. In more adorable news, though, Finn’s parents sent us flowers last weekend with a card that read, “We both woke up this morning with a big smile on our faces because of your engagement. We love you!”
Maybe this is just a defense mechanism, but I have to believe things will work out with my family in the end. I keep reminding myself that they’ve really come so far – nary a quotation of scripture to speak of following the marriage announcement, which would have been standard fare not so many years ago – and I keep hoping that over time this will feel like the norm to them. I’ve been through the worst; I have my foot in the door. And I was surprised to find that my mom’s response didn’t feel like rejection to me. I knew she would be upset; she was upset; I told her I understood; she told me she was happy for me; we dealt. We’ll see how the aftermath plays out, but I have faith. Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I do. And isn’t that what faith is?