My Instead: My new girlfriend Annette and I walked up to a restaurant holding hands.
Because
the mother of a friend of ours had passed away, Annette and I decided that we
would go to South St. Louis for the visitation. Annette willingly allowed me to
do the honors of fixing her hair and make-up. She looked so striking, I could
not take my eyes off her! After we were both all dolled up, we headed for the
city. On the way there, I kind of interrupted our highway banter and blurted to
her, “We’re together, aren’t we?” Believe it or not, I wasn’t expecting her to
say no. And she didn’t.
As we
walked up to the funeral home, we were the same two people, but different. It
had been two years for Annette and over ten years for me, since either one of
us had committed to this degree. No U-Haul yet, but each of us decided we were
ready to settle down and work on something here. We have so much going for us
that we would be fools not to be a couple and just see how we would do.
The
first challenge of our new relationship as “girlfriends” came when we
headed back to Annette’s place after the visitation. I suggested that we go out
for dinner since we had eaten so many meals in at her house. When we got to the
parking lot of Chili’s, I revealed to her what I wanted my “instead” to be for
the day. I suggested that we walk up to the restaurant holding hands…oh, my
gosh! Sounds crazy, right? A man can hold his best girl’s hand and
neither he nor anyone else thinks anything of it. But Annette and I are both
women and it’s not that simple. Barriers have been taken down in the last 25
years, but WE still are not “normal”. I told Annette that if any two individuals
are going to “out” themselves by holding hands in public (oh, horrors), we
should be the ones. We look like good people, wholesome and upstanding. Maybe
the “normal” people will begin to correlate being gay to people that look like
us!
When I
finally resolved that I was actually willing to do this, I realized that my
partner had to be willing, as well. Annette was on board all the way. Thank
goodness. While sitting nervously in the cab of her truck, we planned our
strategy. We waited to make sure the coast was clear of any children. We stepped outside the truck and stood in the presence of God and walked hand-in-hand up to the door. Here I was, a 62-year-old woman, feeling like a
16-year-old holding the hand of her first love. It felt like home and heaven at
the same time. That evening the parking lot of Chili’s became our cloud nine.
We were happy and we were proud…not like the gay pride thing, but just proud to
be “us”…together.
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