My mother had to bribe me to wear a dress, and I insisted on no puffed sleeves or ruffles of any kind. I was obsessed with all things NASA and wanted to be an astronaut. I would lie upside down in our living room chairs and pretend I was orbiting Planet Earth in my own rocket.
When I developed a huge crush on my butch gym teacher (didn’t we all?), my mother told me that crushes on other girls were perfectly normal. I spent a lot of time being “perfectly normal” at summer camp, with crushes on older campers and cute, butch counselors. None of my crushes materialized into anything more than long, flowery letters professing undying friendship. I dated boys because that was just what you did. It wasn’t until my senior year that I finally came to terms with my gayness. I knew I wanted more from another woman than long, flowery letters.
