It’s summer break, and I’ve been enjoying time off by playing videogames until late at night. I’m also suffering from summer allergies, so I have trouble falling asleep unless I’m really super tired, which doesn’t happen until around 3 or 4 AM.

Mom: “You need to stop staying up so late! I bet that’s why you’ve got a cold!”

Me: “No, I don’t have a cold; there are a lot of allergens in the air.”

Mom: “But it doesn’t help that you’re staying up so late. It’s still bad for you.”

Me: “I’m breathing the same allergen-filled air whether I’m awake or asleep.”

Mom: “You’re not a scientist.”

Me: “And you are?”

Mom: “I’ve been on this planet longer than you have!”

Me: “And yet it’s not my internet search history that contains scientifically sound questions like, “Can Ivermectin cure my gay son?” is it?”

Mom: “I told you I was just browsing!”

Basically, my mom wishes I were a lesbian.

Part of it comes from her suspecting I’m a lesbian because of ONE isolated incident. In high school, my bestie and I were attached at the hip. One day, we went to the beach and then had to go somewhere after that. We stopped back at my house and WITH OUR BATHING SUITS ON took a shower together.

My parents came home during the shower and decided I was gay, despite me only having boyfriends before/after that.

She’s also desperate to show her other friends how “open-minded” and “cool” she is, by ALWAYS and frequently telling me she’ll still love me if I go gay and that there’s nothing wrong with that, which we all agree on, but she does have a habit of saying it in front of her friends a lot.

Anyhoo, it’s the night before my parents’ legendary annual party, and we’re making mushrooms stuffed with sausages. She’s explaining:

Mom: “You can either push the meat out of the ‘skin’ on the sausage link, or you can slit the skin and pull it out that way.”

Me: “I prefer a slit.”

Mom: “I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WERE A LESBIAN!”

This resulted in my grandparents and aunts walking into the kitchen at the exact moment I yelled back to my mom:

Me: “I LIKE D*CK, I LIKE D*CK!”

I work in a diner, one of the few in our relatively rural town. The waitstaff are encouraged to personalise their uniforms with pins/stickers, as long as they’re not offensive or political. I see the new hire serving one of our crotchety old regulars.

Regular: “What’s that you got on your collar?!”

New Hire: “That’s Nyan Cat! It’s an old meme, basically he’s a cat who—”

Regular: “—I don’t wanna see that gay s***!”

New Hire: “…gay?”

Nyan Cat is basically a cat with a pop-tart body, flying through space, leaving a rainbow trail. I’m guessing it’s the rainbow that our regular is offended by. I’m about to point this out when the diner owner swoops in.

Owner: “Come on [Regular’s Name]. It’s just a cartoon cat.”

Regular: “And it’s trying to be cute while portraying immoral values, and I will not—”

Owner: “—Matthew 5:32.”

Regular: *Closes mouth, but glares at [Owner].*

Owner: “I trust that’s settled. Enjoy your meal.”

Later:

New Hire: “What was that about?”

Me: “[Owner] and [Regular] know each other. This isn’t a huge town. [Regular] divorced her husband and remarried another guy, who had divorced his wife. They were both cheating to be with each other, apparently.”

New Hire: “Okay… but the bible verse?”

Me: “Matthew 5:32. But I say to you that everyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of sexual immorality, makes her commit adultery, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.”

New Hire: “Figured it was something like that.”

Me: “[Owner] always pulls that out when [Regular] goes off on the gays. If I were [Regular] I’d stop coming here, but hey, it’s a small town, and we’re the only decent diner, so…” *Shrugs.* “Anyhoo, next time she starts to claim the moral high ground, just say ‘Matthew 5:32,’ and that’ll shut her up.”

New Hire nodded, but never got the chance to take my advice as [Regular] snapped at [Owner] a month later and was finally banned for good!

Some gay friends invite us over to watch a movie, and we end up picking a film called ‘The Big Gay Musical.’ One of the husbands is Chinese-American and is trying to find a version with Mandarin subtitles.

Husband #1: “What’s taking you so long?”

Husband #2: “I just Googled ‘gay musical.’ Do you have any idea how many hits there are for that?”

Earlier this fall, I went on a long-anticipated vacation to a lovely tropical island. While waiting to pick up a rental car at the airport, I was able to overhear the following exchange while I was in line at the rental car counter:

Traveler: “Can I get a car that doesn’t have any woke s*** on it?”

Rental Car Employee: “I… I’m not sure what you mean, sir. Can you please explain?”

Traveler: “You know, all that gay pride stuff.”

Rental Car Employee: “…”

Traveler: “I’m not a f**, and I don’t want to drive a car that makes it look like I support that s***.”

Rental Car Employee: “If you mean the rainbows on the plates, sir, this is Hawaii. The Rainbow State. That is what all standard license plates look like here.”

At that point, one of the other rental car employees at the counter waved me over to them. Ten minutes later, I was in my car driving into town. I imagine that the other traveler was still there at the counter, trying to get a rental car with a special non-rainbow, non-“woke”, license plate just for them.

And for the record, I saw multiple rainbows every day while I was there, and each one was beautiful.

Related:
When You Want The Aloha To Be More Of The “Goodbye” Kind Than The “Hello” Kind, Part 4
When You Want The Aloha To Be More Of The “Goodbye” Kind Than The “Hello” Kind, Part 3
When You Want The Aloha To Be More Of The “Goodbye” Kind Than The “Hello” Kind, Part 2
When You Want The Aloha To Be More Of The “Goodbye” Kind Than The “Hello” Kind