I was grading over at Starbucks today when I saw a couple of the FYO's old pals and their parents.
In between papers we'd chat and catch up, etc.
On their way out, one mom said she didn't know that I was a teacher. . . What did I teach. . . Where did I teach. . . etc. etc.
When she learned where I taught she said she had just been to a B&B in the area:
Oh. Maybe you know the place. It is called Rainbow Ridge.
The classic heterosexual assumption: all lesbians know all other lesbians.
In this case, it is true. When I got the job, Cousin and I came out to find me a place to live, and we stayed at this particular B&B. Suffice it to say that that was the only time I have ever spent any time with this particular B&B-running couple.
Then, get this. The little girl says:
You look like the girl at the farm!
By this, she means: You look like that lesbian farmer-lady.
The mom, awkwardly:
Yes! She has glasses too!. . . And dark hair. . Yeah. . . Dark. Short. Hair!