When growing up, my mother was good friends with the mother of a much derided effeminate boy. A boy
When growing up, my mother was good friends with the mother of a much derided effeminate boy. A boy in which no boy wanted to be known to be friends with, let alone be known to have spend any time with. The first time I met him was when my mother went to her’s for tea following grocery shopping. While the women talked, I found myself in what looked for all appearances like a girl’s room, inhabited by a scrawny pretty figure, which also looked like that of a girl. For a while I tried to make small talk, darting from subject to subject, while the feminine figure stared blankly at me. Eventually “she” interrupted,“You know, I won’t tell anyone that you have to hang around with me, so you don’t have to worry. Now that’s out of the way, we can chat it you like, but there is something I would much prefer……… that we kiss instead”.The next weekend, “her” mother drove us to the theater for our first date. With long hair, makeup and a dress, nothing could have indicated that there was actually a boy beneath the appearance of a distinctly pretty girl. We spent most of the film making out, returning to the car hand in hand. My friends would never know about my secret first “girlfriend”. -- source link