The Unspeakable
“I had very short, almost spiky hair, owned three pairs of Chuck Taylor tennis shoes, and wore lots of cargo pants with tank tops and silver jewelry. (That was my casual wear; for dressier occasions I’d taken to almost exclusively wearing cheongsams with ballet flats.) I had a toe ring. I drove a Subaru station wagon—mint green, manual transmission, metal dog gate behind the backseat. (That’s not to imply that there’s anything especially lesbionic about mint green, though stick shifts and dog gates do emit a certain undeniable Sapphic energy.) As for the dog himself, I took him to coffee shops with outdoor seating and to independent bookstores, which always seem to allow dogs. At night, he slept in my bed, his 85 pounds of fur and flesh and drool crowding me to the edge. He was effectively my boyfriend, but I probably would have been better off with a real boyfriend. For instance, someone who would take me out to dinner and do boyfriendy things like tell me that my car needed a new timing belt.
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