I just sat down to write a long and funny post about how the first time I ever came out to anybody (at age fifteen) I was so nervous that I couldn’t do it in English, so I did it in French instead, but as I was starting to craft the post, my houseguest, the actor I made out with the other day (and have actually been making out with daily since), returned, and since my huge crush on him has intensified tenfold since last night, when I tried to push things further and he said no, sex is something really important that ought to be shared between two people who have decided to share something really important, his return to my apartment has rendered me completely incapable of concentrating enough to construct a sentence (as this post makes clear), much less an amusing story.
And now I’ve given away the punchline of the coming-out-in-French story, so there’s no point in saving it for later either.
Okay, he’s sitting on my couch reading and now I can barely spell.
Excuse me while I go gaze longingly.
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