My Pilgrims and Natives

I realize that my family is much less dysfunctional than most. We Asians are a simple folk, spending most family gatherings over a card table and the oven, agreeing about everything except who had a Canasta first. Perhaps it's a blessing, for though our opinions may differ, there's always something more important to be fought over. The neckbone.

My grandma is an awesome person, but she makes certain sounds. Certain vomit-worthy sounds. She and her brother fight over the bones leftover from the gravies and sauces for the mere purpose of sucking the bones dry. Is that a bone? Save it, there might be a measly string of meat left to dissect! Is that a gizzard? All the better! So imagine that there is an entire turkey to drain the bones thereof. There we all were, partaking in the Glory of Starches on Styrofoam Plates, when a noise creeps into all our ears and sticks in our brains. It's the sound of my grandma holding the turkey's neck to her mouth and suckling. Both my mom and I start to squirm in our seats until we've completely fallen out of them and are now writhing on the floor in agony. Together, we scream "STOP." My grandma shoots us a glance and retorts, "It's not that bad."

My grandma also said that homosexuality was contagious. Sometimes, personal opinions leak into our peaceful dinner-talk, and this was one of those occasions. Now, I myself am not quite bisexual, but not quite straight either. Pete Wentz had it right when he said, "Anything above the waist is fair game." And I think my tits feel pretty great. In any case, I'm an advocate of gay rights. I'm completely okay with The Gays. Some of my best friends' friends are gay. I'm rather intolerant, also, of people who aren't okay with The Gays. Namely, my grandma. For whatever reason, we had all been talking about some unrelated topic that got linked to homosexuality, and The Statement sauntered out of my grandma's mouth.

"I told you it was contagious."

I was stunned. I stared blankly for two seconds before spitting, "What." My fork had dropped. My knee was quickly kicked by my mom, who mouthed the words, "Not worth it!" in a desperate speed. At that point, I realized what she meant, and closed the gaping hole that was my mouth. No man can convince my grandma otherwise from what she thinks. No man should try.

For a time now, I've been having text correspondence with Crazy Irish David. Remember that over-sexed affluence I was talking about earlier? This is a perfect example. I can barely help the fact that my loose-lipped tongue let it slip to David, in a horrible shade of sexual, that I felt a certain way. From then on, he had decided that he and I were going to do it. All my fault, you know. All my fault. I had told him I didn't have a boyfriend, when Lalo had already asked for my hand in courtship, I told him that I wasn't afraid to do a few things I really am afraid of, and of course, now I've landed myself in another web of lies, Kyler*-style.

And it doesn't help at all that now, I feel honestly involved with Lalo. I'm worried about him. What can I do? I can't bring myself to cheat on him, to hurt him. But I can't get up the courage to tell Crazy Irish David that I've been toying with him. Nothing I ever told David will come true, I don't think. How can I tell him that? I've thrown myself into a pit. And I just keep digging. The one thing that's keeping me living through the messes I continually get myself into is Jason. Baby, you move like a butterfly, you sting like you belong.

*name only used for stylistic effect.