Almost a lesbian?

It’s 5 am and I go through the usual grinding of gears that I do. Every day feels like Groundhog day. Each day slightly more painful and harder to force my will into submission. Shove my legs into the sausage casings that people call “athletic pants,” lace myself into my shoes, hoist my sad boobs into their harnesses and out the door I go; praying that age-old trick of “I can’t see you, you can’t see me” holds true as I hit the streets for a run. I don’t do this because I like to, I do it because I like food and I have Hispanic hips. I also like to feel better than you. It’s easy to do this; I can tell you I run 3 miles a day and forget to mention that I hate doing this shit and sweat like pig and sound like a car on its last leg with a dirty carburetor as I collapse at the base of my stairs.   

After this morning’s little brush with death (because that’s what I equate these runs to now) I take my shower and pick out my wardrobe for the day. Showing up for work in a bathrobe is frowned upon even if where I work is super chill, so I stand in front of my closet for what feels like eternity. E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y. I need a gay male friend to help me with these decisions. I would certainly make better choices. My “give-give-a-fuck” button has been on the fritz since 1998 and if I’m being honest – which is rare – my fashion sense is spotty at best. We can talk about the 90’s when I wore plaid and Dr. Marten’s with bodysuits, but we won’t. Today, I settled on a respectable black silk-ish (I don’t know my fabrics, hence the need for a gay BFF) tank top and slate gray slacks. I decided to pair this with the pair of Puma sneakers I commandeered from my son; very Ellen DeGeneres. Being that I lack the ability to make solid choices when it comes to dressing myself I decided to text my mother. Wait, that’s a lie… I was super proud of myself. I looked super cute and wanted to share. What transpired was a pretty ridiculous conversation that I am happy to share snippets of.

Me: I’m going to "Ellen" them with the boys Puma shoes

Mom: Cute

Me: I know

Me: OMG! I’m an adorable “would-be” lesbian

Mom: Would be?

Let’s pause here – WTF does she mean?? Is she saying she thought I was a lesbian, is she questioning whether or not I intend to become one?? Thanks for the vote of confidence mother. I go on to tell her that there is a problem with this. I like the male anatomy far too much to become a lesbian. That’s not actually how I said it; I didn’t say “male anatomy,” but I’ll leave that wording to your imagination.

Let’s press on –

Me: I wonder if there’s still hope for me? I can change! JK (insert three laughing/crying emoji for effect)

Mom: Questionable.

Mom: Don’t change. I like guessing.

Me: Like Amy Schumer says, vagina, on its best day smells like a small barnyard animal, at least hers does and I’m not down with that. Besides, I’m far too competitive to ever be a lesbian and I don’t fuck ugly bitches. Also, “Don’t change, I like guessing?” That’s your answer??? Perfect!

Mom: I love you bitch.

Me: We’ll see about that. If I get around to it, this has all the makings of a nice little blog. “Almost a lesbian” My mom: my muse.

Mom: You’ve been riding that ledge since teen years. You’ve got the heterosexual wall by fingernails, either way, I love you.

Me: I got nuthin… (insert laughing emoji for effect)

By no stretch of the imagination am I considering life as a lesbian. I am also not an “available” woman. In fact, I am one of the acridest and most inhospitable places on earth. Nothing survives here. Most days I am mildly amused (mostly terrified though) that I was able to carry Curran to term, manage the whole “birthing” thing and that he’s still alive. I am fascinated by the fact that neither of us sits in the corner of the room gently swaying back and forth eating chalk and frothing at the mouth. I kill Chia pets, lose pets rocks, barely manage to dress myself and function in public; having relationships with other human beings is tough. I resort to caveman tactics regularly. Grunting and swinging are natural behaviors and forms of communication for me. It’s bad enough that there is one of me roaming the planet; Curran is out there too you guys. He is out there, he’s going to be big and I can only pray that his gentle heart stays gentle and that the part of me that is crazy and unpredictable stays dormant in him – because if it doesn’t…we’re all fucked! 

Like my mother says to me though: “Either way, I love you.” I will love him the way she loves me; unconditionally. Gay or heterosexual, uncompromising and uncouth - to her, I'm still pretty perfect. I'm good with that...I got all the people I need. Alright, can I have my inheritance now??