I think my mother at one point belonged to the White Gay Men Who Are Willing To Love Black Women Club. Just like I have been known as the great lesbian converter of my time, my mother did the next to impossible with my father. My father was a gay man when she met him. She managed to get him to play for the other team for 10 years. Forget Pride of Family. That's what her novel should have been about!

After my father she got involved with another gay man named JL. In retrospect JL wasn't just a gay man he was a sterotype. A very talented musical theater perfomer, JL was dramatic, overly emotional, and thin to boot. The relationship didn't last very long and to this day I'm not sure how it ended. It might have had something to do with an exchange that JL and I had when I was 11.

Me: JL, you look so happy.
JL: yes, I just fallen in love.
Me: Oh really? With who?
JL. Michael B.
Me: *????????????????????????*

Welcome to yet another typical event in my childhood.