We’ll consider it a trial run

“Mom? What’s going to happen at this group?” Colin asked, a forkful of rice halfway to his mouth.

It was dinner time and there was just over an hour left until we had to leave to get to his first drop in group.

“Well, the page said they had exciting activities planned.” I paused for a moment then added, “Strip poker.”

Colin nearly snorted rice through his nose.

“I’d have to take my skin off,” he commented cheerfully, once he’d stopped coughing. “I’d stink at that. Maybe we could do Strip Uno or Strip Candyland instead.”

I nearly spat curry across the table at the thought of Strip Candyland. We’re a classy family, I tell you.

We  got to the bus stop and I realized I’d forgotten to double check the address. Then I started worrying. What if our first bus was late and we missed the second bus? What if they cancelled the group for this night? What if no one was there? What if it’s a really close knit group and Colin just doesn’t click with anyone?

Earlier today I reminded him, again, that he needed a shower. Then I found myself ranting about the overflowing dishes in the sink (his chore), the stained track suit he’d worn for three days in a row, and his greasy hair. I took a deep breath and decided to explain why I was worried instead of simply ranting about the mess.

“Colin, I’m upset because I’m scared about you. It scares me to see you sitting around all day doing nothing. Ignoring your chores, letting your hair get dirty, sitting around in messy clothes. Remember a few months ago you said…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

He patted my hands and smiled. “Mom, it’s just that I forgot to take a shower and this outfit is comfy. I don’t want to kill myself anymore. I’ll have my shower now.” And with that he kissed my forehead and headed off to the bathroom. He washed the dishes once he pulled his clean outfit on.

It really is a mixed blessing to hear the words “I don’t want to kill myself anymore” and I’m aware how tenuous that sentence is. I want Colin to find friends so badly. I can’t be his entire social life. Youtube can’t be his entire social life.

Colin’s not an introvert by nature, he’s always been my social butterfly. Home is now his safe place but he needs to find other safe places and he desperately needs friends. I don’t think he realizes how much.

He was eager and cheerful when we got on the bus and laughing when we got off at the right location (even though I gave the bus driver the wrong intersection). Then we got inside and discovered I had the wrong date. I have no idea how I misread Thursday for Tuesday, but I did. That being said, we got a pamphlet and a business card and Colin was informed that next week is laser tag. The pamphlet says they offer free pizza too. You can imagine Colin’s excitement over those two. He bubbled with excitement the whole way home too.

The plus side is we both know exactly where the group meets and it got Colin outside today too. I’ll have an update on how the actual group goes on Tuesday, when they really meet.

Keeping secrets

I talk to my Mom pretty much every single day. Not long conversations, just casual chit-chat about what’s going on in our lives. Last month she commented that Colin’s doing so much better in school and seems a lot more calm. What made the difference with him?

My mouth opened then I quickly shut it again. What made the difference? Colin’s tentative forays out of the closet had been met with acceptance and he had started accepting himself more too. The biggest turn around happened when he agreed to go to the GSA, even though we hadn’t been able to find it. The second largest happened with this blog. Yes, I read every post and comment to him. And I notify him of likes and follows as well. His anger has dropped dramatically since I started writing here. I think knowing how I feel has made a huge difference. But my Mom doesn’t know any of this.

“I don’t know,” I stammered. When I blithely told Colin I wouldn’t tell anyone, conversations like this hadn’t crossed my mind.

I called my Mom the day before yesterday and she asked if anything new happened since we’d last talked. There definitely had. I’d got the call from Colin’s school about the GSA and he’d agreed to go to the LGBTQ group I’d found.

“Umm… nothing I can think of,” came my awkward reply.

I thought about this after I got off the phone. If he likes this group, he’ll be going every single week for an hour and a half. This isn’t something I could hide.

I went out with my Mom today and commented that Colin’s going to a teen group tonight.

“It’s aimed at kids fifteen and up and says it’s full of exciting activities,” I commented. “Hopefully Colin will like it.”

“That sounds fun,” my Mom enthused. “Is it run by the boys and girls club?”

I froze then gave a mental sigh of relief. “Yes, they’re one of the sponsors,” I replied. The rest were an assortment of groups like PFLAG and the local Pride organization. They’re great groups but they’d raise questions I couldn’t answer.

In six more hours we’ll be heading out to the group for the first time. I hope Colin has a wonderful time and is his usual fabulous self.

An update of sorts on the Gay-Straight Alliance

I finally got a call back from the teacher running the GSA at Colin’s school. It was an interesting call.

The call started with a brief introduction, saying she’d gotten an email with my query, followed by an aggressive sounding, “Why were you calling about the GSA?”

I was surprised to say the least. First off, I’d called her last week and left a detailed voice message explaining exactly why I’d called. When I didn’t hear back from her, I contacted one of my former high school teachers (now retired) and got a number for the school board to see if they could give me any information on the GSA or at least let me know if it even existed in his school. And I told them exactly why I was calling. But, hey, explaining everything for the third time isn’t that hard.

The GSA at Colin’s school meets every Thursday at lunch time, not Monday as we were told originally. Not only that but there’s a poster with all the information (and even a rainbow) on the bulletin board.

Colin looked up from his decorating show at that. “Wait. We have a bulletin board?” he asked incredulously. “Where?”

That I didn’t know. It was also on the announcements, which according to Colin, are played between first and second period when everyone’s in the hall. This makes no sense whatsoever but explains why he keeps complaining he can’t hear them.

She could definitely understand why the secretaries didn’t know where or when the GSA meets because there are a lot of school activities.  And, to be fair, Colin says he ran into similar issues when he tried to find out where the robotics club was meeting. I’d like to think they’d be able to provide some sort of help, even if it’s just saying who would be best to call for more information. The vice principal put me on hold for less than a minute and was able to come back with the name of the teacher running the program. Why couldn’t the secretary have done the same for us?

Then the teacher admitted that there are currently NO STUDENTS ATTENDING. Yes, it is that well advertised. Somehow I’m not surprised. When I commented that maybe Colin wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find the group, I got told, once again, that there’s a poster on the bulletin board.

Kait’s school has posters pretty much everywhere. You can’t walk more than 10ft down a hallway without seeing a sign advertising for the GSA. I have never seen a GSA poster in Colin’s school. For that matter, I don’t know where the bulletin board is either. Maybe I’ll send Colin on a scavenger hunt for it when his school reopens  next week.

I’m glad I found out about the drop in group because so far the GSA sounds like a total bust.

A random weekend post

A picture showed up on my Facebook newsfeed yesterday. To be fair, it was titled “graphic”, however that’s meaningless when the picture shows up at the same time. It was graphic, it was horrifying, it was heartbreaking, and it happened in Uganda. That’s all you really need to know.

I got up from my chair and walked into the living room.

“Colin? I really need a hug,” I whispered. He got up and I fell, sobbing, into his arms.

“Mom? Were you reading the news again? I thought you said you weren’t going to read the news anymore,” he chided gently as he patted my back.

“I… didn’t…” I managed to say before bursting into fresh tears. “It… showed… up… on my… news… feed.”

I told him about the picture as my tears slowed. He sighed then shook his head.

“I don’t get it,” he replied as he headed toward the kitchen. “It’s like they think gays have some built in nuclear device and we’re gonna blow up or something.”

“Colin, don’t explode. Okay?” I joked. It was pretty feeble.

He turned and smiled. “I won’t”.

The truth is I really don’t read the news anymore. I’ve read too many horror stories and just can’t handle them. My news gets filtered through my Facebook news feed by liberal friends who tend to post positive news or political issues that can be worked on. This usually works well, except when something truly heartbreaking blindsides me.

Once I got my face dried off, we headed out. Our first stop was a favourite store called Bouclair. My grandmother loved it decades ago when it was a fabric shop but these days it’s a decorating store. Both Colin and I love it. We started out in the lighting aisle, drooling over the ceiling lights, then moved onto bedroom decor to get ideas for Colin’s room.

The first aisle was bubblegum pink with lots of glitter. Colin just sighed and moved to the next aisle, which was blue with lots of sports. He rolled his eyes.

“It’s very gendered,” I commented. He nodded and sighed again. I glanced beside me and kept on walking. Somehow I couldn’t see Colin wanting ceramic soccer ball decorations or a tennis shoe piggy bank.

Colin is a big Doctor Who fan and we did find a bright red London canvas, complete with the British flag, a red telephone box, and a double decker bus. Colin insisted it needed a blue police box but, well, wishing didn’t make one appear. He did like it the way it was, and it was on clearance to boot.

Today we had a family dinner, which means going to visit family. Colin was his usual ‘around the family’ self for most of the visit. He was cheerful enough but quiet and his hands stayed firmly tucked under his arms. He hung out with his young cousins for a while but didn’t leave the table with them after dinner, which was unusual.

Then he began to talk about something that interested him and Colin’s ‘at home’ self appeared. One hand drooped while the other gestured wildly and, if I was writing down what he said, half his words would be in italics. The same relative who made the lisping comment back in December was sitting beside Colin. I sat and watched as the relative listened to Colin talk, replied to what was said, then patted Colin on the shoulder. Then I breathed a sigh of relief. The visit went very well.

And, while I have yet to hear anything about the GSA in Colin’s school, I did find out about a drop in program for LGBTQ teens in our area that meets every Thursday. Colin has already agreed to go. Hopefully I’ll have a positive update on Friday.

I don’t want Colin to “act straight”

A young coworker of mine posted a link on Facebook today to an interview by an actor who plays a flamboyantly gay character. The actor was told by a straight reporter that,  if he were gay, he’d be offended by how stereotypically gay the character was. The link shows the actor’s response.

I don’t want Colin to feel like he has to act straight. I want him to just be himself, whether he’s straight, gay, or somewhere in between. I personally don’t know where he falls. To be fair, I don’t think he does either. He’s rocking the Q for questioning.

And what is “acting straight” anyways? Right now he’s sitting in the living room playing Saint’s Row, a computer video game similar to Grand Theft Auto. Same amount of mayhem but with a less regimented story line (Colin talks a lot about his games). He’s running over pedestrians but he’s doing so with the shiniest purple car he could find and his male character is sporting purple hair. Last week, his female character sported purple hair as well.

Colin had a bubble bath two nights ago and shaved his legs. Then he put on Axe… and called it perfume.

He also doesn’t notice dirty dishes, even when he’s washing them and they’re sitting directly beside the sink and I’m expecting the health department to condemn his bedroom any day now. Pretty standard for sixteen and, thankfully, his room is slowly improving. I’ve promised we can paint it this spring if he keeps it tidy. He wants to paint it purple.

I sent Colin to the grocery store earlier this week with a three item grocery list. He’d begged for additional items at least ten times before he got out the door (I really wish I was exaggerating) and promised he’d call when he got to the store just in case I’d changed my mind. We live less than a five minute walk from the store. We can see it from the living room. So you can imagine how underwhelmed I was to get a call from him less than a minute later.

“Mom? Where did we get my hair dye?” That wasn’t the question I was expecting. I’d braced myself for another argument about his impending demise due to a lack of pizza/iced tea/root beer/cup of soup/canned ravioli/potato chips.

I reminded him of where we got it and he relayed the information to someone else.

“Who are you talking to?” I asked curiously.

“This lady wants to know where I got my hair dye,” he replied. “She’s been looking for something similar.” Colin currently has shoulder length purple hair.

We said our goodbyes and, as he was turning off his phone, I heard the lady compliment his hair and tell him how proud she was of him. I am too.

Nail polish

“Hi hon,” I called when I heard the front door opening. Colin immediately yelled “hi” back and came bounding over.

“School was good,” he informed me cheerfully. Both hands were clenched tight against his chest so I could only see the backs. This was unusual to say the least.

“Colin? What’s with your hands?” I asked as I reached toward him.

“Umm… nothing,” he said, stepping back. Then he sighed and held his hands out. His nails were painted alternating black and glittery red.

“Nice,” I commented mildly and he relaxed.

“There wasn’t much to do this afternoon and one of the teachers had polish in her purse and offered to do people’s nails.”

I figured she probably offered to do some of the girls’ nails and Colin volunteered but didn’t bother saying that. She’d obviously painted them without adding any negative commentary. If that can of worms was still closed, I didn’t need to open it.

“Let’s head out to the mall,” I said instead. “We need to pick up something for dinner.”

Jeremy looked at me like I’d suggested going outside for some naked flamenco dancing. “Just give me ten minutes so I can scrape off the nail polish,” he muttered.

“Colin, if you don’t like the nail polish then why did you get it done,” I asked. Dead silence.

“I like it,” he admitted. “I just don’t want anyone to see it.”

“Colin,” I said firmly, holding his hands. “If you like that nail polish and want it on then rock it and ignore anyone who says otherwise.”

“I really don’t want anyone to see it.” He looked even more embarrassed.

“We can buy nail polish remover while we’re out,” I promised. “And you can wear gloves.”

We were out the door as soon as he found his gloves.

The shopping trip was going fine then we went past the mall restrooms. Colin insisted he needed to use the washroom. The kid has kidneys like a camel, this was instantly suspicious.

“Colin, you’re not taking the nail polish off in there.” It was more of a hopeful question than a statement.

“Yeah,” he replied, clutching the store bag a little tighter.

“You can’t…” I swallowed ‘It’s not safe’ and said “… It can be done at home” instead.

He turned and headed down the hall with me calling, “I’m going to the store without you. You’ll have to meet me there.”

Weakest threat ever. I don’t think I’ve hovered that intently in front of the men’s room since Colin was seven and braving the men’s room alone for the first time. An older man left first then Colin followed less than a minute later.

“I told the man it was a bet. He said ‘ah’ then left,” Colin informed me. I nodded, noticing he was a lot more cheerful now that the polish was off.

His hands were back in motion, remnants of black and red flashed on each nail. Anyone who looked at his hands would know he’d been wearing nail polish. I did not bother to point this out.

I wish Colin felt comfortable wearing nail polish no matter who sees him. And I wish we live in a society where he didn’t have to worry.

The importance of gay-straight alliances

“Mom? I don’t feel well. Can I stay home?”

I looked at Colin with some concern. I had to head out the door in literally one minute and this was the first time he’d mentioned being sick. He didn’t look sick though. His forehead was cool, his cheeks a normal tone, his eyes clear and bright (well, bright for 6:30am).

“What’s wrong?” I asked. He thought for a moment.

“It feels like there’s a black hole inside my nose.”

I stared at him in amazement then started to laugh. A black hole? Really? I’ll give him credit for imagination but… no. Thankfully he was smiling as I got ready to leave.

“Mom, that would mean time’s going more slowly around my nose so it’s not aging as fast. I’m going to have a really young nose,” he cheerfully exclaimed.

He seemed fine when I called from work to say goodbye and cheerful when I got home. However, one of the first things he asked was if he could stay home tomorrow because it’s only a half day for most of the school so they’ll be doing nothing much all afternoon. He’s already missing Friday though because he’s refusing to go on the field trip (again) and his school’s off for three days next week.

I know he’s not happy at school, he tells me this repeatedly, and I know he doesn’t really have any friends either. He panics when he doesn’t have anything to listen to for his bus ride. He needs something to block out the kids on the bus. But, he needs an education too.

I turned him down then quickly checked the phone for messages. There weren’t any. I left a message this morning for the teacher who’s supposed to be running the gay-straight alliance and asked for a call back. Nothing so far. Maybe tomorrow? Considering the luck we’ve had so far, I’m figuring it’s a 50/50 chance I’ve even got the right name. At this point I’m not entirely sure if I’m trying to get Colin into a school run program or break into a top secret military organization. The secrecy level seems equally high.

However, when the GSA is running and able to be found, it’s a great organization. A friend of mine shared a link with me today and it’s a brand new article too. It’s well worth reading. The GSA can and does make a huge difference (when it can be found).

Gay-straight alliances in schools reduce risk for all students

Second guessing myself

I couldn’t stop giggling yesterday while walking home with Colin. He had a full can of iced tea and was talking animatedly about some show he was watching on YouTube. Every gesture sent another wave of soft drink flying onto the pavement. At home he’d have put the can down before gesturing wildly but that’s not really possible while walking outside. He insisted he got most of his drink, I was looking at those splashes and wasn’t sure about that.

We got home and I began making dinner while Colin moved onto the computer. He was playing something to do with Doctor Who, either a mod added to a current game or a mod of a Doctor Who game. It involved the TARDIS and the theme song, and some irritation from Colin because it wasn’t modded enough for him. I couldn’t find the jalapeno pepper and Colin, who’d put the groceries away, promptly informed me it was in the right hand crisper. He went in and pulled it out. Then showed me where the creamer was (on the bottom shelf). I was duly impressed. Usually he just shrugs and says “I dunno”. Even if he was the one who put them away moments earlier.

Colin leaned against the fridge as I diced the jalapeno pepper.

“Mom? If the TARDIS showed up, I’d jump into it right away. I’d let you on too but you’d need me to drive it. Then we’d go through time and space and I’d pick up all sorts of women.”

With that he walked back into the living room, leaving me watching him in confusion. I washed my hands and followed him out.

“So, does that mean you’re 100% interested in women?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light and amused instead of sounding like I was drilling him.

He shrugged then quietly said, “No”.

“Do you know who you’re interested in?”

Another “no”.

I crouched down, leaning my chin against the back of the chair, then rested one hand on his chest.

“I bet you do know,” I commented quietly. “Colin, don’t worry so much about gender. Love who’s in your heart.”

Then I wandered back into the kitchen and started a round of self-guessing myself. Am I being overly supportive to the point of being mushy, leaving him no real support at all? Or, even worse, could I be subconsciously pushing him?

I took a psychology class in college years ago and the teacher talked about a portion of the brain that contains thoughts the rest of your mind knows nothing about. That confused the heck out of me at the time. If the thoughts were entirely unknowable and undetectable then how would anyone know about them? It seemed as likely as claiming there’s an entire alien civilization on the dark side of the moon, the proof being we haven’t seen them and know nothing of them.

But if that teacher was right, could I be influencing him with thoughts I don’t even know I’m having? And why would I do that anyway? Unless… maybe it could be a way of making him less like his father. I don’t actually see a lot of his father in him but people who knew his father years ago, often comment on how much Colin looks like him. Then again, since I already don’t see much of his father in him, why would I try to influence him to be different? That thought circles back around to those unknown thoughts.

The thing is, I really can’t picture Colin in a serious relationship with a woman. He’s had two girlfriends so far and pretty much kept them at arm’s length. He wasn’t rude to them, he just didn’t seem all that interested in them. I didn’t see any difference in their relationships before and after they broke up. And I’ve seen Colin with his male friends. With them there was a lot more casual touching and Colin seemed a lot more involved and interested in them. Maybe that’s normal for boys, I grew up with sisters and have no real idea how boys act with their friends.

As it is, I’ll keep raising him as I already have and I’ll just keep hoping I’m not screwing up too much. Which, come to think of it, pretty much sums up all my parenting so far.

The great toy divide

Lego Ad

This picture and article showed up on my Facebook newsfeed yesterday. When you click, it will open in a separate window. I recommend reading the article first as it has more pictures comparing then and now of specific toys.

I’ve commented before that I read a blog called Raising my Rainbow and how Colin was a lot less girly than C.J. at that age. And in many regards that’s true. Colin loved The Magic School bus and Thomas the Tank Engine when he was little. And dinky cars (the brighter and more metallic the better). He could, and did, drive them around for hours. But, at the same time, toys were a lot more gender neutral. Lego came in bright primary colours and bicycles pretty much did too. The only real difference between a boy’s bike and a girl’s bike were the bars connecting the seat to the handle bars. Colin got Kait’s hand-me-down bikes for years without any comments.

We had dress up clothes in the living room and both my kids loved wearing them but they were odds and ends I’d collected. A sheer sequin covered shawl, a tiara, and some foam masks I picked up at the dollar store. A lavender slip and a lacy nightgown that looked a lot like a wedding dress, both bought from a second hand store. And a pair of ballerina flats because I thought the dollar store high heels were too small and slippery. Both kids had lady bug wings from Halloween costumes and there was a wand kicking around but that was it. Actual costumes were for Halloween and got packed away with the decorations.

I just went through our photo albums. The fanciest their Lego got was a set of Winnie the Pooh Duplo; that came with a handful of plastic flower/leaf shapes and a spiral slide. Otherwise they had riding sticks with plush animal heads, basic Lego, Tinker Toys, Sesame Street figures, Teletubby figures, dinky cars, a Thomas the Tank Engine set, and an Oneida tea set complete with Oreo cookies. The kids played interchangeably with all of them.

Years later, the kids and I were walking through Walmart and I was floored to see Disney princess dress up clothes mixed in with the regular clothes. The boys, of course, had super heroes. This was nowhere near Halloween, these were for every day use. I was floored.

Then my sister got pregnant with her second child. The ultrasound said she was having a girl but there’s always a possibility it’s wrong. I went to Old Navy to pick up a neutral newborn outfit only to find those didn’t exist. I could not buy a pale green or yellow sleeper. They were either pink and labelled princess or blue and red with sports themes. There was no in-between.

I like bright colours and picked bright clothes for my kids. Plus I tend to buy in second hand shops and just pick the ones that appeal to me. Not to say they never wore boys clothes or girls clothes but most of the time they just wore jeans and bright t-shirts. Last time I went clothes shopping with Colin, it was an exercise in frustration for both of us. Literally half the mens department was Duck Dynasty and the rest was camo and dreary. Colin picked out one shirt that he loved but it was hand wash and lay flat to dry, which translates to “this will never be washed”. That won’t work for him. And the younger sections are even worse.

Note, I’m not saying that the past was wonderful. I know it wasn’t. I went to high school in the 1980’s and remember overhearing classmates bragging about driving to downtown Toronto to “throw rocks at the f*gs”. No one came out in high school at all. I had a friend who everyone was pretty sure was gay, and he was, but he certainly didn’t come out then. It wasn’t safe. Meanwhile Kait went to the same high school I did, just twenty years later. She attended a school with pride flag stickers plastered everywhere, announcing this was a safe environment. Several of her friends came out in grade nine.

I can’t help thinking though that we’re making it safer for teens and adults to come out while segregating and compartmentalizing our children. Colin loved pink when he was little, it was his absolute favourite colour. He had several pink stuffed animals and a pink baby stroller for his baby. But that was pretty much it, the rest of their toys came in primary colours. Most of their clothes were in those colours too. I can’t help but wonder what his choices would have been if everything was split between blue/red and super heroes or pink/purple and glitter with nothing in between. No choice to simply be a kid.

Colin was invited to a birthday party when he was four years old. The birthday girl’s mother bought Barbie napkins for the girls and plain blue napkins for the boys. Colin insisted on having a Barbie napkin because pink was his favourite colour. I have a feeling, in this gender oriented marketing environment, he’d probably be almost as pink as C.J.

Musings on sexuality

What I remember the most was how dark the room was; that and the giggles of my sisters and their friend. I can’t remember who picked the game. I’d hoped for Barbies, we could sit for hours sorting through all the different clothes. I even had a Barbie with me just in case. Instead, a new game was suggested.

“Let’s turn out the light and we’ll all take our pants and underwear off. Then we have to try and touch each other’s privates.”

This wasn’t something I wanted to do at all. I wasn’t curious. I just wanted to hide, and I did just that, I crawled to the farthest corner of the room and curled in a ball and waited for the lights to go back on. Then it got worse.

“How come I haven’t heard Michelle? Nobody move. Michelle, you have to touch someone now.”

I was still holding my Barbie. My heart pounded as I reached forward, hoping they wouldn’t tell the difference between my finger and a Barbie foot. Seconds later there was a yelp, followed by a giggle and “Yep, she did it too”. Then I retreated back to my corner until the lights came back on. People talk about experimenting when they were younger. This was as close to experimenting as I ever got.

Years later I found myself staring at my mother in blank astonishment. I’d been teased and bullied for years but suddenly a new word was being thrown in my direction. Homo. My mother stammered through her explanation while I listened in bewilderment. People honestly fell in love with someone of their own sex? I had no idea. I’ve always had a good imagination but this was something I wouldn’t have thought of on my own. The name didn’t stick and the kids soon moved on to other forms of bullying and harassment.

During one of my first classes in high school, the teacher announced that any gay students could feel free to talk to him in private if they needed an ear and he wouldn’t tell anyone. He’d done so plenty of times before. The room erupted with kids either laughing or wanting to know exactly who he’d talked to. Once again, I listened in astonishment. While I couldn’t understand why people fell in love with someone of the same sex, I also couldn’t fathom why anyone else would dislike them for it or tease them about it. It didn’t seem like it was anyone else’s business for one thing and love didn’t seem like a reason to tease anyone, not that teasing or bullying seemed to make much sense to begin with.

My thoughts on sexuality were black and white. You were either straight and liked the opposite sex or you were gay and liked the same sex, there was no in-between. Of course, this was the ’80’s and I was hardly alone in this thinking. Heck, I’d hardly be alone in that thinking these days.

Eventually I grew up, got married, and had two children. My ex-husband was taking a college course and he loved to quote his teacher, including all the jokes his teacher made. We were visiting friends one afternoon and my ex-husband decided to share the latest joke.

“You know, I get that people can be gay or straight. What I don’t get is bisexuals. They’re just being greedy and need to pick a side.”

Absolute complete and utter silence. I looked at our two male friends and wished I was anywhere but there. This wasn’t a “joke” I liked to begin with and it seemed horribly inappropriate to bring up here. The silence lasted for a few more heartbeats then one friend piped up.

“I’m bisexual,” he announced quietly.

My ex-husband made a few stammered excuses and the conversation moved on, although obviously it was one I haven’t forgotten.

My thoughts on sexuality had transformed to include bisexuals but I still was thinking fairly black and white. People were either 100% straight, 100% gay or right in the middle, liking both genders equally.

Along the way I got connected to the internet and began chatting on parenting forums. That was when I got another surprise. There were several posts about famous female actors and I was astonished by the number of woman who identified as straight but would sleep with those actors if they had the chance. That’s when I started to realize sexuality had a lot more shades of grey than my current thinking allowed.

By this time, Jeremy was an adorable blond haired, blue eyed preschooler who had a habit of climbing onto the laps of close family friends, patting their cheek and saying, “I wuv you. When I gwow up, I’m gonna mawwy you.” I think he proposed to all my friends, regardless of gender. They all thought he was sweet. I thought he was sweet too but, at the same time, something nagged quietly in the back of my brain.

That quiet voice was what prompted me to join with several members of our church in support of a teenage boy who wanted to bring his boyfriend to the school prom… and to bring four year old Jeremy with me. There’s pictures of us in an album somewhere. Jeremy’s clutching a big rainbow sucker someone gave him, looking curiously around while I’m holding him alongside the other church members in front of a rainbow flag. I’d explained to him why were were there, neglecting to mention my extreme dislike of crowds. I’d never have gone if it wasn’t for him.

I’m pretty quiet on my own but, for Jeremy I’ll move mountains.

And an update of sorts about the GSA at Jeremy’s school. I got a call from the vice principal about rough housing on the school bus today and took the opportunity to ask if the GSA had restarted. Only to find out it had never stopped at all. She had no idea why Jeremy and I were told “I don’t know” when we contacted the office or why I’d eventually been told it was on hold due to the lack of a teacher to sponsor it. Jeremy’s supposed to hear back from the teacher by the beginning of next week. At least I have a name now, so if I haven’t heard anything by Wednesday, I’ll be using my whole 15 minute lunch to contact her.

Edited to add: I just showed this entry to a friend of mine and zie shared a link with me, which I’m now sharing with you: How to Explain to Someone that Bisexuality (or Pansexuality) is Real.