As some of you know, in all my infinite spare time, I do some volunteer work for LGBT youth. I hadn’t been able to see this one kid in awhile, who was really struggling, because his parents are traditional, old-school Mormons, and he was deeply closeted, and he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t hurt him or throw him out.
Me: “Heyyyyy!!! I haven’t seen you in ages! How are you!?”
Brayden: (cringing) “Good and bad…I came out to my mom.”
Me: “WHAT!? Oh, wow, are you okay?”
Brayden: “Well, I’m apparently a ‘disappointment’ and a ‘failure’.”
Me: “Arrrrrrrgh, I’m so sorry. But no violence, right? And you’re still living at home?”
Brayden: “Yeah, but I’m grounded.”
Me: “You’re grounded…for being gay.”
Brayden: “Pretty much.”
Me: “What are you grounded from?”
Brayden: “Dick? I’m pretty sure, I’m grounded from dick.”
For the record, the child is walking the campus in 6″ heels all day…and if you’re not familiar with my blog, the child is a 6’3″, self-identified, drag queen, who comes to high school, dressed for the Milan runway.
D’Avonte: “My feet are killing me.”
Me: (Looking at her feet) “No shit.”
Me: “Every single day of my life, my love, every single day of my life.”