When I was a little girl, I dreamed of the day when a man would look at me tenderly and say, “My girlfriend and I have a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.”
Many girls have this dream. We cherish it so strongly, that we never ever mention it in public. It’s like our longing to have a hysterectomy before the age of forty, or our desire to eventually give birth to a two-headed baby. It’s just too precious to be spoken of, aloud.
When the gentleman I’m referring to told me about his “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, I looked at him shyly, my eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears.
“You mean,” I whispered, awkwardly reaching for his hand. “You’re not going to tell each other that you’re both actually GAY?”