And the hits keep coming (out)...

So last night was kind of a mommy-daughter bonding night. I had an appointment yesterday afternoon on the northside, so I had planned to go ahead and stop by my parents' house for some quality time with my loving progenitors. As (bad) luck would have it, my daddy was on a last minute business trip, so it was just my mother and myself. My parents are still struggling a little with this whole "Flipside has a girlfriend" thing, but god love them, they really are trying, and are doing the best that they can.

While I was there, my mom and I discussed the move that I will be making this summer. While I still love 40 with all my heart, and am going to miss her a great deal, I honestly can't wait to be living with my girlfriend. I can't wait to come home to her every day, to wake up with her every morning. While I'm sad to be leaving Xanadu and the glory that is Midtown and moving out to the boonies, (there are at least 3 properties with horses in less than a half mile radius from the house...) when it comes down to it, I really just want to be with the woman I love at the end of the day. Blah blah blah, enough sappy stuff...

So my mom and I are talking about the move and the house, and I'm telling her about the layout of the house, and where my furniture is going to go, and how awesome the master suite is, even if the other two bedrooms are a little small. At this point my mom interjects and says, "Well, I guess you'll be getting one of the smaller rooms. Is all your bedroom furniture going to fit in one of the smaller rooms?"

I stopped, dumbfounded. When I finally gathered my thoughts, I tried not to giggle or blush and pursed my lips a little. I contemplated how I would enlighten my mother as how this whole "moving in with my girlfriend" thing was going to work without saying anything that might be too startling to her ultra-conservative mindset.

I must have blushed a little, because she caught herself, and I watched as a small, yet painful lightbulb flickered behind her eyes. She slowly drew out the sentence, "I guess this isn't exactly going to be the same kind of roommate situation you have going with 40, is it?"

I shook my head, smiling impishly, and watched as yet another tide of Flipside-induced pain washed over my mother.

God, I hate doing this to her.

But the thing is, at the end of the day, she still loves me, and is proud of me, and tells me so all the time. She wants me to be happy, and I am.

And I can't ask for anything more than that. I just wish I could make it easier for her.

The perfect prom dress

If I ever get to chaperone a prom, I'm going to want to do it in this dress.

Except DAMMIT... I'm allergic to latex!

I wonder how much harder it would be to get them to make me one out of polyurethane or lambskin...

The beginning...

of the end...

Xanadu is no more. At least for me, it isn't.

Xanadu was my home, my little piece of rented heaven with vaulted ceilings and berber carpeting on the third floor in the middle of midtown: two blocks from the largest liquor store in North America, walking distance from dozens of the trendiest bars and restaurants, complete with a downtown skyline view from the balcony. We've spent almost three years there, 40 and I, and it's been some of the best times of my life.

We've loved it there. We even adorned the door with the silver letters identifying our home as utopia... it was welcoming beacon to all those who came to our home. XANADU. As if to say, "This is our paradise. We hope you love it as much as we do."

Things are changing. 40 and I changing. If someone had told us three years ago that she would be sober and helping others towards sobriety, or that I'd be deciding I want to spend my life with another woman, I'm pretty damn sure we'd have laughed our asses off.

I'm hardly ever there, at Xanadu, anymore. I spend most of my time at the house I'll be moving into when our lease is up this summer. I came home to Xanadu a few days ago because I needed to take down all the Christmas decorations and clean my bathroom. Knowing that there's a 99% chance that 40 and I are parting ways in June, I split the Christmas decorations into two stacks: her stuff, my stuff. Before, we'd always just put them in one box. I think I cried about six times.

It pains me to think about leaving Xanadu. It breaks my heart. But part of me feels like my home left me before I'm leaving it. When I was there the other day, it felt awkward and foriegn to me. Xanadu was a ghost-like echo of the paradise I remembered.

I suppose this means it really is time for me to move on.

I will always remember my time at Xanadu fondly. And even though the apartment is still my official residence, and the lease won't be up for another five months, in my heart, the era of 40 and Flipside in the utopia we called Xanadu has peaked and begun to fade away.

I am gut-wrenchingly sad to see it end...

It's official....

.... I've been outed.

So my family came in over Thanksgiving, and out of respect for my parents' wishes, I said nothing to my brothers or their wives about my newest relationship.

Things were awkward and strained, but I thought it was just because I was uncomfortable.

Tuns out, it wasn't just me.

My uncle (my gay uncle) had ever so kindly "let it slip" to my brothers about my shifting sexual orientation, long before I ever saw them at Thanksgiving. No wonder there was tension in the air. I feel like a fool for having hid it the whole week. My parents even stretched the truth to them when they had ever so casually asked, "So, Is Flipside seeing anyone?" (My mom's response, "Um, she's just hanging out with friends from school..." Smooth, mom. Smooth.)

On one hand, I'm a little irked with my uncle for not telling me that they knew. He just kept urging me to say something to them, because they were"starting to figure it out..." (Yeah, they were starting to figure it out because you told them!)

On the other hand, it made the conversations with my brothers and my sisters-in-law a hell of a lot easier.

Me: "So um, I kinda need to fill you in on something."
Brother: "Um, yeah. We kinda already know. And it's cool."

I guess "coming out" doesn't get a whole lot easier than that.

But I'm still not admitting that I'm a lesbian. It's just that my girlfriend is.