I did a LOT of dumb things in my college years and continue to do so well into adulthood. However, my lack of sober judgment the night I made out with Miranda repeatedly trumps most drunken mistakes but mostly because it has haunted me since that fateful evening.
Where does this tale begin? I suppose it was with Nancy and Carlisle. Right, it all started with the sound decision to fuel up on carbohydrates prior to a night of massive alcohol consumption. See, Carlisle and I had a propensity for finding lesbians in the least likely of places—DMVs, funerals, you name it, we’d done it. This restaurant would be no different as our waitress, let’s call her Miranda, was “an O.L.–obvious lesbian,” as Carlisle remarked with her barely out of earshot. The verbal confirmation was unnecessary as I’m fairly certain she was wearing some sort of rainbow charm bracelet but yes, it was obvious, she was gay—but not in a negative stereotypical way. I’d had class with her the year before but we’d never spoken. The class you ask? An elective aptly titled, Lesbians and Gay Men and Society, how appropriate. I can’t say Miranda was on my radar then as I was busy making my way through half the soccer team at the time. And honestly, back then, I couldn’t be bothered if you weren’t a Division I athlete but that was all about to change and I was powerless against it. Continue reading →
Why Yes, They Are Mine
I continued down the street laughing to myself thinking how I looked like a contestant on The Bachelor holding one single red rose given to me by fifteen year olds. Too funny. Late for dinner, I hurried through the next block, still laughing, when I heard a tall African American guy next to me say, “Those yours?!” I wasn’t sure what he could be referring to… Continue reading →