I was going to write about the date from last night, about what happened after my last shot of goldschlager, about watching some kind of “what not to wear” – lingerie edition until we couldn’t take it anymore. About learning to give back – she let me touch her, and called me a pro.
Instead, I’m going to write about my last break before the end of my shift tonight. I had sent T a text message telling her about the roommate that I found, and the message I got back said, “so does that mean you’re unable/unwilling to room with my friend?” Obviously we were miscommunicating because I was leaving things out of the story, so I knew I had to tell her tonight. It could not wait, because telling her half truths was inconsiderate to her and I could tell she was irritated.
I hung up with my last customer and grabbed my phone, charging directly to the other side of the building where I could talk to her alone.
“I need to talk to you”
“Are you somewhere quiet?”
“quiet as it’s gonna be”
“are you by yourself?”
My heart was already in my throat, pounding fast and threatening to choke me. I started by telling her long I’ve been working up my courage. I told her how every single time I’ve seen her since I came back from bible school, I’ve wanted to tell her and I couldn’t. “Look. Um. I’m a 15 minute break, so we might have to finish this conversation later.” I had to get it off my chest. “The reason I came back from bible school last year is because I’m a lesbian and I’m not going to change.” I talked most of the time, trying to explain everything, going over the past year’s worth of progress with her. “I know you love me, I know, and I know we’re going to disagree but I had to tell you.” I told her how I haven’t felt so emotionally and psychologically well in my entire life and how I simply feel whole. I said, “you know I don’t do –anything– flippantly and it took me a long time to get to this point.” I was crying now, trying not to, trying to take big deep breaths to keep from sobbing.
“I’m glad you felt like you could talk to me about this, and I’m sorry if you felt afraid to talk to me about it before. I love you and I’m not going to look at you any differently, now I just know more about you.”
It makes sense to her now, that it’s not about her friend being a good roommate or not, it’s about our interpretations of faith being too too different. She gets it, and now I don’t have to sound like I’m making excuses. We disagree on the morality of the issue, obviously we disagree, but at least now the lines of communication are open.
See how my heart prepared me for the conversation tonight? Instead of writing about more sex with strangers, I wrote about my need to talk to her. Tonight I seized bravery with all the strength I had. It’s not how I wanted it to happen, or when, or why, but sometimes being unprepared is the best preparation for change. It’s over, and I’m still in one piece.