I had this excellent blog typed up, until my computer decided to go ahead and crash. Now I have nothing, not even my dignity.

[EDIT]
Never let me drink and blog

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Be it extremely emotional, controversial, messed up, or whatever, this entry has been password protected.

If you know it, enter it; or, ask me for it.

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"I've watched Sharknado four times. I have it on DVR."

About ten hours later and I'm still shocked that there is someone in this world who can say something like that to me and isn't already romantically involved with another.

Today, we walked a lot, and I managed to recount the first time I'd heard of him--before we met, or anything. My friend had just mentioned that he pronounced "alligator" like "uh-LIG-a-tor," which essentially made my brain light up with interest RIGHT AWAY, because that's my style of weird and it's...somewhat rare, from what I've seen. Only a few days later, he was sleeping on my lap on the way home from camp. Same person. Slipped him in there. Yep.

I told him, "I said, 'I HAVE TO MEET HIM.'"

Which I did; and, to my great surprise, things only got better, from there.

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"So, are you full...?" one of my students starts to ask, not sure how to finish his sentence or if he should, in public.

He means to ask if I'm "full lesbian," and those two words together elicit a high-pitched chuckle from me. "No," I say, and then explain that my sexuality is fluid when he assumes I mean I'm bisexual. Yes, that would be the closest definition, I suppose, but it never felt like it fit (although, for a long time, it was how I identified).

"If I want to date a man, I date a man," I tell him, trying to lay it down simply. "If I want to date a woman, I date a woman." No labels involved. I'm not interested in just the binary--the whole spectrum is a giant smorgasbord of love, as far as I'm concerned, and I could fall for a nongendered individual just as easily, given the opportunity.

"That's awesome."

At this point, we share a radical high-five.

I've just come out of a morning session at orientation, which just happened to bring out the fact that I've never come out to my parents because they're low-key homophobic. This was in-context with the session, which is built to reach deep into our new students and give them a sense of how accepting and diverse strangers can be.

Both of the other interns working the session take me aside, separately, later in the day, and tell me they're proud of me. Confused, I ask both of them why, and they each give about the same answer, hours apart. "Did you see how many students felt comfortable enough to share, after you shared that?"

I didn't, in fact. My little brain jerked to life with pride that I may have actually helped someone open up, and it was just a great day.

That's all.

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