Seven and a half years ago, I was sitting a service station having a coke and smoke with a friend, complaining about my now husband. I was a full lesbian at that stage, with a black t-shirt with huge white writing that stated “Nobody knows I’m a lesbian” to prove it. BJ had been pissing me off and I was having a bitch session, when our mutual friend turned to me and stated “why don’t the two of you just get married and be done with it? You already act like you are!” I thought about it for a moment – and decided that there were worse things in life than spending your life with your best friend. He had always been there for me, and I knew without a doubt that he loved me unconditionally. And let’s face it – it’s not like I was getting laid in this backward town anyway. So I called him up, and invited him to the servo, and we had a long chat about getting together. I was clear about my expectations and what I could offer, and he accepted. From thenceforth, we were a couple.
At the time, I was living with my grandparents, and Nanna liked it when I came in to say goodnight after a night out so that she knew I was safe and sound back home again, so I went in to say goodnight, and told her that BJ and I were (finally) together as a couple. My grandfather, half asleep, rolled over and said something along the lines of “about time you gave up that other nonsense”, which brought forth a giggle from me. As a non-church-going older generation Christian, he had never approved of having a lesbian for a grand-daughter, though to give him credit, he was always supportive of me as a person, and never berated me either. In other words, he knew well enough to keep his mouth shut about it 🙂 Which is why I always gave him a little leeway with the odd comment here and there. He was always respectful of my right to live as I choose, and never crossed the line in my opinion.
What he said next was hilarious though:
“Men have needs you know.”
To which I could only reply, “yes, but he has two hands and a heartbeat to take care of that.”
Now, my Nanna is even more conservative than my grandfather was. She does go to church every Sunday and volunteers for various jobs each week while she is there. She is the sort of grandmother who says things like “she’s a witch with a B,” because she can’t bring herself to swear, and tells my kids off for saying “fart” instead of “fluff”.
So, bless her heart and soul, when my grandfather mumbled in his still half-asleep state “huh?”, she turned to him and with that slightest giggle that screamed out that she knew exactly what I meant, she shouted,
“She said he’s got two hands a heartbeat.”