how gay are you?
The story
So, I was cleaning out some old boxes today, you know, the ones that live in basements and attics, filled with stuff you thought was super important at one point but now just feels like clutter. I was sifting through this dusty treasure trove of faded yearbooks, crumpled concert tickets, and random trinkets when I stumbled upon an old note I wrote to myself during those awkward high school years. Talk about a trip down memory lane!
The note was this messy scrawl asking, "How gay are you?" right next to my half-hearted attempts at chemical equations. I mean, teenage me was really going for it! I can't even imagine what the younger version of me would think about the woman I am today. I have been firmly identifying as straight for years now, so what was up with all that questioning back then?
Now here I am, years later, trying to process this weird blast from the past. The note feels so foreign yet oddly familiar, like a ghost from my teenage years just dropped by for a chat. I’m happily settled in a relationship with a guy who embraces all my quirks and complexities. It’s beautiful and messy, exactly how I never thought it would turn out. But that little phrase still lingers, tying my past to my current reality in a way that feels both bizarre and comforting.
Life throws all sorts of curveballs our way, like mortgages and the never-ending stress of adulting, but somehow, love and affection manage to stick around despite all that. I guess you could say it’s a wild mix of emotions that has me pondering what teenage me was really thinking. Of all the things I expected to find in those boxes, that note was definitely not on the list.
