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Mom stayed home in a comfortable house, in many ways a stereotypical 1950s housewife.
Now that she was divorced, Mom had no idea what to do with herself.
He didn’t me into a lesbian, but he sure made it easier for me to accept that any great love in my life would definitely be wearing a skirt. I was far from that, but I didn’t mind letting most people think I was. Today was Valentine’s Day and it was her first one since Dad had left two months ago.
Shy around boys vs couldn’t care less about boys didn’t look so different from the outside. Few, besides my best friend and partner in crime Amanda, a still in the closet athlete Brittany (I knew where her closet was and visited her there regularly), a neighbour Mrs. Walker, and a few other trusted souls had any clue that I was a lesbian. She was obviously feeling extra sad she was alone on the Day of Love, while her ex was drinking Mai Tais on the beaches of Hawaii with his new slutfriend (something we’d learned from Facebook pictures).
Instead, she’d always been a stay-at-home mom for Conner and me.