A Metaphorical Conversation in Two Parts

or, A Broken Promise to Never Write Pointless Posts

I.
The Supermarket, Sunday morning after church
Age 16
Status: Closeted

Mom: Do you want some apples for this week?
Me: Yeah that'd be great.
Mom: What kind do you want?
Me: I like green apples.
Mom: Ew, you don't want those! I hate green apples!
Me: Yeah, but...I like green apples, and you asked me what I wanted.
Mom: How could you possibly eat those, I just really don't like them!
Me: You asked me what I wanted, and I told you. You don't have to like what I like or understand why I like it, I just want them!
*storms off with a bag of green apples*

II.
The Dining Room, aka my dad's office, where my mom is proofreading something
Age 19
Status: Out, but we don't like to talk about those kinds of things

Mom: If you have a list of things, do you put a comma before the "and" before the last one?
Me: You could. It's called an Oxford comma (sidenote: I'm not sure why I always insist on being a pretentious grammar fuck), some people use it, but you don't have to.
Mom: Hm. Well I really don't like using it. It doesn't really look right. It looks kind of funny.
Me: Well I know you don't personally like it that way, but I always like to do it like that. I know you don't, and you don't have to, but I do.
Mom: Eh, I still think it looks weird.

LOL. Substitute in whatever words you'd like for "apples" or "commas." It's like inappropriate Mad Libs. This conversation is also best imagined if you picture my mom as a small Asian lady with a thick Chinese accent. I mean, she's not and she doesn't have one, but, I'm just saying. It's best imagined as such.

But really. Some things never change. Just in case anyone is wondering about the tone of this, it's really not a hey-my-parents-don't-accept-me-so-feel-bad post. It's more like, lol how could I possibly lead two such contrasting lives, being loud and out and badass in one, and arguing over produce and punctuation in another?

Though, transcribing these has made me realize that it really should come as absolutely no surprise to me that my mother couldn't possibly wrap her head around tolerating or understanding, let alone accept my, ahem, homosexuality. I mean, it's difficult enough for her to understand why I like green apples or my preference for the Oxford comma.

But, I'm a college girl (grrrl) now, and I buy (read: steal from Whole Foods) my own green apples and proofread my own papers. Oh, and I like girls.

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And now, for a little vocabulary...
gaytience - (n) 1. the good-natured state of endurance that one enters when that straight girl who keeps flirting with you at parties insists upon said straightness and acts totally normal about everything in the daytime. She is said to be "testing your gaytience."

2. the frustrating state of endurance that one tolerates while looking forward to an event but currently leading a life free of queerness. This may happen, say, when one is home from school and looking forward to Pride Weekend in a different town, or even just when one sifts through the dense plot a totally straight show/movie just for the gay undertones that may or may not arise.

That being said, I'm going to DC on Wednesday after a very, very special event that will totallly make my life on Tuesday night. My gaytience is running thin.