There is nothing more obnoxious than some attention loving drama queen walking around school on her birthday carrying fifteen hundred balloons (in various colors), a pink wand covered in glitter with a star attached to the top that reads “It’s My Birthday!”, while still managing to hold a pan of half eaten chocolate cake like the way a waitress would when bringing a platter to a table. Well, turns out this year, that bitch is me. Apparently, when a guy comes out of the closet, it is automatically deemed appropriate to bring him excessive amounts of glitter and all things sweet. Although flattered, it still concerned me, seeing that the last time my birthday fell on a school day, all I got was a high five and an advisement from my best friend to “get some” with my girlfriend of six months. But things were different now whether I liked it or not, because this year, instead of just being the birthday boy, I was Robert: Birthday QUEEN of the Gays. But I couldn’t complain, because unlike last year, I actually would be “getting some”, and it would be from my boyfriend of two weeks, Landon Walker.
Things were going just “alright” with Landon but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fool around with him on my birthday. My folks wouldn’t have to know and it was imperative that they didn’t because I still had yet to mention Landon’s name to them, a task that I would eventually let slip for another two weeks. Bo and Sally Robinson would certainly be concerned if their openly gay son was in a “relationship” with another dude, especially since they found out about his sexuality through a text message they found on his phone, sent to his best friend Regina Lincoln about Zac Efron’s sweet ass only four months prior.
“Why didn’t you tell us before you told all of your friends?” My mother implored during our family crisis meeting in my the home office as my phone lied on the floor, separated from its battery in my desperate attempt to hide my questionable text messages. It was strenuous to come up with a clear, concise, and appropriate answer as to why I didn’t tell them, but all I could think of saying was, “Because you and dad are crazy mother fuckers and I’m scared of you”. After accepting that it would be an appalling thing to say to my strict and conservative parents, I did the one thing I was capable of doing in that moment. I stopped talking.
“I mean, come on, it’s not like it’s some surprise to us. You used to pretend you were in a Brandy music video when you were four. And you listen to a lot of Kelly Clarkson. Not to mention your “I’m a Disney Princess” phase.” My dad reminded me (as if I could forget) while I sat in the office couch. Suddenly, “Colors of the Wind” was set to repeat in my head, which was soon followed with “Miss Independent” (Kelly, if you are reading this, I FUCKING LOVE YOU OMG YOU ARE EVERYTHING! YOU ARE MY QUEEN, BITCH!). Upon returning to reality, my father enlightened me on his belief that “gay is OK”, and my mother expressed her endorsement in his belief by embracing me with open arms. But even with the full support of my parents and of course, my younger brother and sister, I was still apprehensive about sharing my personal life at the family table, given they had little time to adjust to my new “lifestyle.”
Walking around campus with a dozen balloons in hand proved difficult when the wind came a-blowin’ and spooked my balloons into a twirling panic, entangling my upper body with ribbons and spinning into a frenzy of smacking my face with their helium filled balls of latex. Once inside the F building, I could reside to my inner home of tranquility and so could the balloons as they floated peacefully above my head. Before entering English class, there was a gentle poke to my back. Hesitant to turning around in an already crowded hallway, I did so anyway to turn my attention to the mysterious poking object. To my surprise, it was Jayden Tucker, who appeared so thrilled to see me that I wondered if he too would be bearing offerings of more glitter, and further add to the fabulosity of my day. But I quickly shut my mind to that possibility because I never told Jayden when my birthday would be, in fact I never really told Jayden anything except, “Get away, you’re gross, I hate you”.