My friend came out to me today. We were talking about her picket fence fantasy from long ago. I confessed to her that these days increasingly, I was beginning to seek comfort in that fantasy for a few minutes. When all the stress of school, and advanced genetics courses and job interviews gets too much, I’ll think about chopping carrots in the kitchen one evening, all grown up. I imagine a faceless husband who will come home and put his arms around my waist and kiss my neck. “Hello, babe”, he says. I smile back and we have a happy, quiet, relaxed dinner together. I think about this while I’m washing the dishes as a break from studying. Then I wipe my hands on my pants, go back to my desk and study Human Molecular Genetics for the rest of the evening.
So I told her this, and she said , “Oh, I don’t want a husband anymore.” “You don’t?”, I said. “Why not?”
“Oh, haven’t I told you about this summer?” She waited till we were outside, and told me she was gay. “Oh”, I said. We kept walking and talking and it was all very unmomentous and ordinary. It was like she’d just told me she wanted a coffee. Ohwell.