We were at a sit-down, dressed-up dinner on the lawn in front of the library at the College. We were sipping champagne in a beautiful setting and we were nostalgic and wistful and glossing over the really bad things that happened there. It felt like we were in a film about British aristocracy before World War I. My inner snob was momentarily overwhelming my otherwise egalitarian (and self-satisfied) character.
And, then . . .
And, then —
From stage left, I heard a loud booming voice breaking through my revelry, rising above the din and seemingly causing the sumptuous scenery to fall away:
“[Blogger], I hear you have a partner!! How could I have been your roommate for a year in college and not have known you were gay?
I think you’ll agree that I am pretty intuitive?!
So, I decided you didn’t know either. Am I right? I am right, aren’t I. Yup, I knew it.
You look great by the way. You have a son. Did you have it or did she or neither?”
WHOA!!!!
And I thought my sexual orientation was just about me. And I thought people didn’t ask about paternity and maternity in polite company. Nah, this is reunion after all, and I am “radically” different than I was 25 years ago.
I adore this person. And her comments were so authentically “her” that I just smiled, laughed and enjoyed the feeling of 25 years just melting away.