ok some days being visibly homo is the most wonderful thing in the world. an old woman walking her dog stopped to say hello to me and I asked if i could say hi to her dog. she seemed really excited and told me “his name is rupert brooke. i named him after a gay poet from the era of the first world war. he had red hair just like my dogs fur”. then she leans in and whispers like she’s divulging some great secret and says “i don’t usually tell people about the gay part”
I’ve told this one before, but: I was in a long-distance relationship in 2010. One time, after flying back into Toronto, I got a cab to my apartment. The cab driver, who was a recent Pakistani immigrant, asked where I had been travelling.
And I had to think about my safety as a passenger and a woman, but I decided to just tell him: “I was visiting my girlfriend in New York.” And he went quiet, and I was briefly terrified, and then he said, “It’s good here in Canada, for people like us.” AND THEN I FUCKING CRIED OBVIOUSLY.
It’s good to be visibly or openly queer, when you can be. There are so many more of us out there than you ever realize otherwise.
I had to take one of my cats to the vet late one night, the emergency vet, where they offered for us to see her off to boarding (the polite way of saying “do you want to say maybe your last goodbye”) (she’s much better now though) and the receptionist who checked us in was super friendly, smiling gently and calm and reassuring and all that, and it took me half a second to make the connection between their “they/them” pronouns on their scrubs and my “queers bash back” patch on the backpack I’d brought.
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“[OC] Blossom x Blossom
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