Dear Journal,
All I want for Valentine’s Day is someone to call my Valentine.
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All right, so I’m going to try talking with you. I need somewhere to vent after all that’s been going on. You’re my first Journal. Feel special, yet?
My name is Stephanie. My friends call me Steph. I’m new to Branson, Missouri. The area is a lot different from where I grew up in Greensboro, North Carolina. I have been suffering from homesickness ever since I got here. I really feel uncomfortable with this place. I just started a new school and there’s this dance in less than a week. It’s for Valentine’s Day.
How will I ever find someone to go with that fast? I mean, that’s hard enough on it’s own, but I’m a girl and… I’m a lesbian.
Part of the reason I moved here is that I am a lesbian. My parents thought it would be better for me to move to an area that was more open-minded. The new school I’m going to seems okay, but I am not really sure that was a very good idea.
When I told my mom and dad that I was interested in girls, they instantly became super aggravated with me. They thought my sexual preference was going to get me into trouble in an area like Greensboro.
After New Years, my parents made me move out here with my aunt. They said it would be the better option for me. I get that they’re trying to do the right thing and be open and loving and accepting but…. Really? Move your daughter three states and almost literally a thousand miles away? That seemed a lot more like they were scared and ashamed.
They didn’t even ask me if I wanted to move, or if I would miss my friends, or really anything.
Anyway…
In my new school, there are a lot of different types of people. It has your Goths, punks, and jocks. And, like all schools, there are also your cheerleaders and nerds, too.
The problem is, unlike these groups, it is harder to tell someone’s sexual preference just by looking at them. So, I am not even sure where to start looking to find a date.
My aunt has offered to introduce me to some of her friends in the LGBT community. I highly doubt any of my aunt’s friends are going to be my age though.
How in the world am I going to find my Valentine’s date?
Well, since there is nothing better to do that weekend, I take my aunt up on her offer. At least, it gets me out of the house for a while. Talk to you later.
@–>—
Dear Journal,
Well, it’s been two days since last we spoke. And… yeah.
So earlier this evening, I found myself getting ready for a local LGBT dance. My aunt told me it was actually a twice monthly event in the area. Since my aunt planned on having some friends meet us there, I didn’t feel like backing out.
I was actually really surprised when one of my aunt’s friends had asked me to dance. This girl was about two or three years older me. And she looked ah-maz-ing!than Stephanie was, and the girl looked amazing.
When we danced, I asked her what her name was.
“My friends call me Marie,” she said. Her smile was super pretty. “I hear you’re new to this area. Your aunt said you need a Valentine’s date to the high school dance?”
Yeah, I know, I could have died. Except for what she said next.
“If you’d like, we could go together. You’re really fun!”
I asked if she really meant it and told her I would love to go to the dance with her. I asked her what time was good to pick her up—six!—and then floated off home.
I have a date! Whee!
@–>—
Dear Journal,
It’s Valentine’s Day! It’s Valentine’s Day! It’s Valentine’s Day!
I’m just sitting down for a minute. I’ve been getting ready for my big date. Do you like my outfit? It’s my nicest black pants, a new pale pink blouse and a black jacket I borrowed from my aunt.
Earlier today, I bought a beautiful corsage for Marie. It has four white rosebuds. My aunt decided to let us rent a limo for the evening. She also gave me enough money to buy dinner after the dance. I’m so excited!
Wish me luck?
@–>—
Dear Journal,
Sorry that it’s been a few weeks since I last was here.
So Valentine’s has come and gone. And boy, do I have a story for you.
Let’s go back to the night of the school dance, shall we? Allow me to set the scene…
Picture me, looking fab in the backseat of a limo, getting closer to Marie’s house. Picture now though big knot in my stomach and how much effort it was taking not to throw up all over the leather.
This was my first high school dance where I was allowed to take another girl. Backing Greensboro, I was only allowed to attend as part of a boy/girl couple. North Carolina had even gone so far as to create a law that only heterosexual couples can marry. I mean, I’m sure now that that is part of why my parents made this decision, to send me away like this. Why grow up in a place that’s just going to squash my dreams and hopes and loves?
Anyway, so I finally arrived at Marie’s house. She walked down her front driveway, looking gorgeous in a blue gown with a lace-trimmed bodice. She could have easily passed for Princess Jasmine; I wanted nothing more than to be her Prince Ali.
I stepped out of the limo, placed the corsage on Marie’s wrist, and opened the door for her. I was so anxious sitting in the limo with her so close. She smelled amazing, all flowery and sugary. Her lips shimmered from the gloss and I caught myself staring at her.
At the dance, I was floored by how many people were there. I was also kind of shocked that nobody really said anything about there being a lesbian couple at the dance. I could have never gotten away with that back home. It would have been a big damn deal. If parents caught word of it, I bet there could have been a boycott.
Anyway, I had a great time, dancing with Marie, eating cookies and drinking punch. We chatted with some of the kids I had made acquaintances with at school, and some of her friends there too.
When the dance started to die down, that’s when I asked Marie if she wanted to go get a bite to eat. She was starving, which was great: I was, too! I didn’t want to seem like a pig. But we ordered two burgers, some fries, and a milkshake to share.
For two hours, we sat at the restaurant and enjoyed each other’s company, talking, sharing videos and funny memes on our phones.
I could not believe how incredible our night had been. It was as if I had dreamed it all up. Which…
Well, we’ll get to that next.
After the burger joint, it was time to drop Marie at home. Secretly, Journal, I didn’t want that night to end. I wished it would last forever. If I had been Prince Ali, I would have made that my third wish!
But, like all things, it had to come to an end.
When Marie stepped out of the car, I walked her to the door. There, I asked Marie if she would like to go out again the next week. Maybe to the movies or something.
Marie looked really nervous. She kept her eyes down, looking hard at the ground. She told me she had a confession to make.
“I’m really sorry, Steph,” she said. “You are awesome, really. But I went with you to the dance as a friend only.”
I couldn’t believe what she was saying. I thought she had been interested in me! When I asked what all the smiles and dances and the way she touched my hand and all that was about, telling her she had seemed like she had a great time, she frowned.
I asked, “Was that just a lie, too?”
I felt my heart breaked as she said, “Stephanie, truly, I’m sorry. I’m not into girls. I just wanted you to enjoy your first high school dance here.”
She’d made it all up.
Marie said, “I want to introduce you to more people in the LGBT group at our school. You’re not alone. There are lots of lesbians and bi-girls, but I’m not one of them.”
My head reeled. My stomach swam. I felt like I was going to pass out. I was so humiliated. She’d made everything up! The whole night was a big fat lie, concocted so I could have a good time!
And… well, I had had a good time. Hadn’t I?
Marie kept talking. She said, “I just wanted this night to be special for you. I wanted you to feel welcome and accepted. It’s what I would have wanted someone to do for both my moms.”
Journal, I wish I had said anything then. But I was reeling! I told Marie thank you, my voice super flat, and gave her this pathetic hug before I nearly crawled back to the limo. Even if she was trying to do the right thing, I still felt so stupid for having a crush on her and for feeling like it was reciprocated.
The driver took the long way home for me, since I told him I needed to get my head on straight before I could face my aunt. I had so much to think about. Mostly the question was: did it matter? No one was really hurt. I mean, I felt battered and bruised but that was just my ego talking.
When I got home that night, I thanked my aunt for everything. Then I told all about the events of the evening, including Marie’s confession.
My aunt told me that Marie was a very strong supporter of the LGBT Community. Apparently for more reasons than just “because it’s a good idea to support equality among everyone.”
Journal, I hope you’re sitting down…
Marie is the daughter of one of the most prominent lesbian couples in Branson, Missouri. My aunt told me that Marie’s mothers had to leave the state and go to Massachusetts to get married and adopt Marie’s little brother. Marie herself had been born as a result of one of them getting artificially inseminated.
The more I learned about Marie, I was absolutely amazed and understood a lot more about why she did what she did. It didn’t stop it from being a weird way of showing she wanted to be my friend, and help, and whatever. But still. I feel pretty lucky to have someone like Marie interested in me, even if it’s not the way I was hoping.
She’s going to be a pretty special person, I can tell.
And earlier this week, we went to see that movie at the local theater. After the movie, Marie offered to introduce me to some of her friends, who were part of the LGBT community.
I was a little suspicious when Marie told me that a girl there already likes me—I have started to think of her as a bit of a prankster. But when Abigail sent me a message a few hours later, asking if I would be open to a date, I was bowled over! I hadn’t even realized that Abigail would like me; she seems really girlie, and I’m a little more rough-and-tumble. She’s super cute and really made me laugh a lot just in the little time I’d met her.
So even though I did not find my Valentine, I still had a great time! I might even get my first real girlfriend because of it.
All right, Journal, talk to you soon! I’ve got a date!
@–>—