Although I have surpassed my one-year mark as an official grown up and my first anniversary as a match.commember has come and gone, the true impetus for starting a blog around my dating life in the District was my 79-year-old German grandmother.
It was Christmastime, and I had flown down to see my grandparents in South Carolina in an effort to secure my spot as the favorite grandchild. Over sauerbraten, and on the eve of Jesus’ birth, my grandmother stopped pushing the meat around her plate and looked up at me. “I know why you’re single,” she mused thoughtfully. I put down my brussel sprout and looked at her quizzically. My grandparents have been married for more than half a century. Anticipation hung in the air; I wondered what sort of wisdom she was about to impart. “It’s because you’re so messy. Boys don’t like girls who are messy. If you just straighten up a bit, you could have a boyfriend.”
I was slightly surprised that this impromptu oration centered on dishevelment. Granted, it has been more than two and a half years since I landed myself a real boyfriend, but I had yet to experience any sort of mass exodus from guys due to tangled sheets or dresser disarray.
“You’re probably right, Grandma,” I conceded. I thought that was the end of it. I returned to my sprouts. My grandfather, who had been selectively listening the entire time, shrugged at me.
“And another thing,” she added, before I thought I could get out of the conversation, “boys probably think you’re a lesbian. I mean, you have all of those gay friends. They probably don’t know you like boys.”
She’s right. I do have all of these gay friends. It’s not unusual to find myself as the sexually-oriented minority at a Sunday brunch. It also doesn’t help that I have ten years of softball under my belt, and I still have a pretty decent arm. I even had a mushroom cut as a second-grader, but the blame for that, I’ve surmised, goes to my mother.
My grandparents had gifted me tremendous insight for Christmas last year. I implored my grandmother to relay any other bits of germane advice she had in her treasure trove of wisdom, but that was all. My attempts at procuring a boyfriend in 2010 were fruitless because, to the outside world, I was a messy lesbian. Merry Christmas to me.