My Two Moms

Categories: Commentary, dating


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I asked my friend Eric to write about growing up with a queer primary care giver. Note: I have met very few straight dudes as "at ease" in groups of women as he is. And he can cook, you guys.





I'd like to preface this by confessing I'm a living, breathing, walking relationship disaster. I've been hurt and done some hurting too, mostly the latter. It's not to say I don't have morals, because I certainly do. My mom(s) raised me right. It's just that I have no clue whatsoever how a man and a woman are meant to act around each other within the confines of a relationship. Most of my ideas about how how men and woman exist harmoniously come from movies, sitcoms, and friends' parents. As far as what I've witnessed at home goes, well, let's just say it's been interesting.


Here's the break down: My mom and dad were teenage lovers who decided to get married. My dad was known as "Handsome," and he frequently indulged in exceptional drug use. After birthing me, my mom gained a few pounds, and, I THINK, my dad must've lost interest in the whole family thing. He subsequently fucked around on my mom and they subsequently divorced.


Although my mom was totally into the idea of our family, she had always had an attraction to women, and, when her worst suspicions were confirmed (regarding my dad's promiscuity), she opened up more to the idea of entering a relationship with a woman, and in fact did. I was 5 when this happened.


When I was 11, I wised up to the whole "that's not really my mom's 'roommate' because they totally kiss on the mouth all the time and sleep in the same bed" thing, and it bothered me. A lot. Growing up in Texas didn't help in this respect. So I went to live with my dad. Which sucked. Around 13, I realized that my mom was my hero and I didn't care what anyone else said or thought about her, so I went back to live with her.


To date she's had 4 girlfriends; each more unique than their predecessors.


First was an LPGA'er: cliched, I know, but true. She actually taught me how to golf, and had they not broken up because "Lori decided she wants to be best friends and roommates with someone else" then this piece may very well have been written by me, professional golfer. They said my swing, as a five year old, was the most natural thing they'd ever seen. Odd but true. Also, she smoked.


Next was G. G was the butt of every joke in high school for being a huge dyke, and her parents were killed in a car accident, so she held on to a lot of anger - which she took out on bottles of beer and vodka. She also had the largest movie collection I've ever seen, was super in to Star Trek, and got me stoned for the first time. Sometimes she yelled and was violent. Shockingly, she also "decided to be friends with someone else". By this time I was old enough for my mom to tell me what that really meant.


3rd was C, R.I.P. C was truly inspirational as she beat cocaine addiction AND breast cancer using a holistic diet and colon irrigation, but she was thoroughly obsessed with her work (proprietor of 4 colonics clinics) and didn't give my mother the attention and dedication in the relationship that she so completely deserved. They were seconds away from breaking up when she got new test results that confirmed her breast cancer had returned. My mom did the noble thing in staying with her through the entire ordeal. There's truly nothing like watching the cruel process unfold. It was only my second funeral; I cried my eyes out. They're back in my sockets now - Score!!!


The current, and certainly final, is Lorri. She's made of flesh, bones, love, and magic. She's the reason I refer to them as my "mom(s)" and merely writing about her now is making my eyes swell up. The two of them together are the reason that, at 30, and after witnessing their chemistry for 6 years, I know how two people are meant to love each other. It's so complex to me: there is just so much sacrifice, unconditional love, understanding, patience, compassion, humor, and more sacrifice - but they pull it off like true magicians. Purple-robed dyke-magicians. I fucking love them and we travel together.


Now back to my opening confession. I swear I'm a good guy, with an overwhelming amount of love to give, but am admittedly struggling with the concepts of patience, sacrifice, and compromise within the structure of a relationship. I've yet to pull off a successful relationship, but I know in my heart of hearts that I will. I've had the best woman alive mentoring me this whole time, and now she has the second best woman at her side. I'm gonna be OK.


-Eric Stephenson


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