The Rites of Spring

My parents are coming to visit this weekend. Ms has met my parents once, over Christmas. She walked in the house, off a 6 hour plane ride, and was handed a glass of wine and a joint (it was Christmas, after all). My parents love Ms, certainly in part because it seems I have finally gotten over my tendency to pick construction workers and drug addicts.

Ms and I come from two different worlds though, and sometimes I feel guilty that my parents are so readily accepting of our life when hers are not. Still, there has been progress – like the email this morning from her mother that said, “You have found someone that makes you whole and I am so happy for you”. Baby steps.

This weekend my Jewish family will cook Easter dinner for Ms and two of our closest friends – another Miss & Ms duo. Cheers to the next generation of the American family.

xoxo,
Miss

Girls Gone Civilized

Most of the time Ms and I are not aware that we’re any different. Most of the time I don’t look at Ms across the room and see a super-hot girl that I’m sleeping with, I see someone I love, who makes me smile. (Okay, I also see a hot girl I’m sleeping with, but it’s not the first thing I see.) So I forget that not everyone knows how I love her, or cares to, especially in public. I forget that sometimes people don’t actually want to acknowledge this about us because it ruins the intrigue, the fantasy, the scandal of two girls together. The other night in a rather upscale LA restaurant, where we were enjoying dinner with good friends, two men in Champion sweatshirts (Yes, Champion. Apparently it still exists out there in the closets of unfortunate middle-aged men) could do nothing but what I would conservatively describe as unchecked leering.

Ms and I are not exhibitionists – we are not “Betty Does Dallas” come to life in the middle of your local Chili’s. We behave in public appropriately. We are young, professional women with talent and money and style. As sexual harassment is insulting and upsetting to any woman, it is sometimes worse when someone is tactlessly commenting on your life. And that, right there, is more than I ever have to say on the subject because I believe, quite simply, that Ms is worth it - - or else I would go back to dating men… men without Champion sweatshirts in their closet.

xoxo,
~ Miss