My poor friend's mother. I've met her numerous times. And every time has been positive. My friend has been living with her, after he was spontaneously laid off some time ago.
But I haven't been there since starting hormone therapy.
Until yesterday.
He and I went by his place and, as I had done in the past, I walked in with him and said hi to his mom. She was in the front room, talking on the phone. My friend didn't introduce me. I'd met her a million times. So we both darted downstairs to his bedroom. After I had used the restroom, my friend was no longer downstairs - so I wandered upstairs looking for him. His mom was still on the phone, but was unusually attentive to me, asking if I wanted to take a seat or something to drink.
Maybe attentive isn't the best descriptor. Rather, she didn't seem to want me running amok in the basement or walking around her house looking for my friend. Which would make sense if I was a stranger - but she knows me. I've been here before, multiple times. Eventually my friend yelled out from a back room and I joined him.
It turns out that after I had left, his mom was aghast and asked him who that young man was. And why he hadn't introduced us. And why he had me use the messy restroom downstairs instead of the nicer guest restroom.
And then he explained who I was.
But now it all makes sense. Poor her.
Speaking of moms, my mom has masculine pronouns down to a -T-! Pun intended. And while she was getting a haircut yesterday, she boasted about me to the stylist (who has done my hair in the past and has known me as "she") as her "sweet son" and "I'm so proud of him". Our stylist picked up on it with no qualms whatsoever and started using masculine pronouns, no questions asked.
But I haven't been there since starting hormone therapy.
Until yesterday.
He and I went by his place and, as I had done in the past, I walked in with him and said hi to his mom. She was in the front room, talking on the phone. My friend didn't introduce me. I'd met her a million times. So we both darted downstairs to his bedroom. After I had used the restroom, my friend was no longer downstairs - so I wandered upstairs looking for him. His mom was still on the phone, but was unusually attentive to me, asking if I wanted to take a seat or something to drink.
Maybe attentive isn't the best descriptor. Rather, she didn't seem to want me running amok in the basement or walking around her house looking for my friend. Which would make sense if I was a stranger - but she knows me. I've been here before, multiple times. Eventually my friend yelled out from a back room and I joined him.
It turns out that after I had left, his mom was aghast and asked him who that young man was. And why he hadn't introduced us. And why he had me use the messy restroom downstairs instead of the nicer guest restroom.
And then he explained who I was.
But now it all makes sense. Poor her.
Speaking of moms, my mom has masculine pronouns down to a -T-! Pun intended. And while she was getting a haircut yesterday, she boasted about me to the stylist (who has done my hair in the past and has known me as "she") as her "sweet son" and "I'm so proud of him". Our stylist picked up on it with no qualms whatsoever and started using masculine pronouns, no questions asked.
The more you talk about your parents, the more it becomes obvious that you were born into an amazing family.
ReplyDelete