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Part II. Again, if you're related to me, don't read this.

2004-06-09 - 11:01 p.m.

THIS IS PART II OF TODAY, WHICH COMES AFTER PART I

And I thought Mary with the glasses was quick and a little nosy for a 6th grader.

Karen and me spent the entire fourth day in the tent and Mrs. Digit our troop leader, was frantically looking for us, yelling our names with her kiss ass daughter Becka, (cutsie for Rebecca) the whitest black girl I ever met. Mrs. Digit was white and had adopted Becka, which was unfortunate because she turned her into a wussy. Additionally, Mrs. Digit was a looming creature, had teeth like piano keys and had lost two or three fingers at the knuck. (cutsie for knuckle) The first day there we were all playing that trust game where you fall backward and someone has to catch you or you'll get seriously hurt, and Becka didn't tell her catcher buddy that she was about to fall again. I just kind of saw her close her eyes and say, "here I come!" And she fell/slammed backwards into a picnic table and cried till Mrs. Digit held her and rocked her. Who told you to fall, Becka?

While Karen and me hid in the tent under the sleeping bag laughing, Mrs. Digit and Becka continued their search, and we knew it was only a matter of time, because if two experienced campers couldn't find two inexperienced lesbians, well, then I give up. Scouts is a verb, not just a noun.

The gig was up when the Digit shrieked. I sat up.

"What's up."

"Do you two know we have been pounding the dirt calling your names?"

She was crying, which made Becka cry. Not only that, she was shaking her fingers at us, which, after what I had just experienced, I was not up for.

"WHERE? Have you two been?"

Why, we were having our first sexual experience of course! Rites of passage are very important for kids, Mrs. Digit, and if you deny us this pivotal move in our lives, you cease to let us grow up in our own time. Karen pinched my ass under the sleeping bag.

"We've been hiding."

"Good God! WHY?!"

"We - wanted to see if you guys could find us."

Naturally, the rest of the trip sucked. When it was time to leave, I tried to forget everything that had happened, I thought "Cool. Now we can use what we've learned on the boys some day." But what I didn't so much appreciate, was that Karen wasn't done. She kept pinching me in the car and looking at me and giggling. It was daylight! Scout's honor, I told her stop it, I was really wanting to close this chapter of our lives, and I kept motioning to the driver's face in the rearview to look at this ridiculousness. The driver was more interested in singing camp songs to the kiss ass kid in the front seat, and I was subject to post coital aftershocks for the next two and a half hours.

So when I told Christian he'd have to fight me for her recently, I think he took me seriously. The only trouble with him looking her up now is that she did eventually get married and we didn't think it would be such a good idea to contact her. He was actually a lot like me back then, with his hit and run mentality. He said she was his biggest regret, and he wished he had stuck around instead of bolting, because she really liked him. I see where he's coming from, I think our love and leave type was just her thing.

When I got older, and I had a few more experiences like these, my Mother always liked to say (to my 85% male family) during holiday dinners that "everyone's really bisexual deep down". She also decided at one point, to pull some related NY Times articles and read them to my Father casually, in front of me.

"Bob, would you look at this interesting article I just found. It says that many young people can pass for gay, sort of as a phase they go through and it's really very common."

"I'm not gay, if you're talking about me."

But they would discuss it in every possible light and every intellectualized angle, until they were satisfied. My Father would counter what she said no matter what it was, and tell her,

"Well I really think you're getting into apples and oranges here, which isn't to say that I DON'T think it's possible, just that clearly you have to know how reliable your scource is. "

When I finally tired of their debate, I'd just set up my notebook a few feet away and write down everything they said, and read it back to them.

END OF PART II. APPARENTLY I HAVE A LOT TO SAY, AND IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE I'M FINISHED YET. IF YOU WOULD, PLEASE COME BACK WHEN I GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM IN PART III - UNLESS YOU'RE IN MY IMMEDIATE BLOOD LINE.

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