I wondered how long it would take them to ask. I do live in an exceedingly conservative area of San Diego. Ok—and exceedingly REDNECKY area of San Diego. And last week, it finally happened. My scary dog-chopping neighbor wandered over while I was unloading groceries and asked the question I’ve been waiting for, “So, why does Frinklin have a rainbow sticker on the back of his truck?”

So, technically, that wasnÂ’t the question I was expecting. The truck was mine before I ever met Frinklin and became involved with a boy. ItÂ’s MY rainbow sticker. Not FrinklinÂ’s. I had to start by clarifying that I was the potential homo, not Frinklin.

The scary neighbor was polite about it. IÂ’ve noticed that Lesbians donÂ’t really tend to freak straight men, so I wasnÂ’t all that worried about outing myself. Two things did strike me about our conversation:

1. The scary neighbor did that weird thing where you try really hard to connect yourself to the other person in the conversation. He told me that he knew a “dyke”—an old employer of his—and she was really cool. She went out to the desert and rode bikes with him. “Her name is Dana. Do you know her?” I almost told him I did. I see her at the monthly lodge meetings.

2. Our conversation ended with a statement alluding to the fact that the ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOOD had been discussing my rainbow sticker since we moved in (over two years ago), but no one wanted to offend us by asking if we knew what it meant. Oy.

When will that damn Southern California housing market crash come? We need to move.

Posted by: Ensie at 08:56 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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