When I was little, I’d always picture getting away from Mississippi, and then one day returning with pride and confidence, as a success. In a perfect scenario, I’d be in the back of a big limousine, maybe wearing a fur coat, like Reba at the end of the “Fancy” video.
Next month, I experience a small measure of that moment when I travel to see one of my plays produced by a theatre back home. After I announced the production to my friends, it didn’t take long before a road trip was planned. So this July, George, Slutty Mandy, my boyfriend Preppy, and I are Mississippi-bound. I fully expect the crowd to grow as we get closer to the event.
Preppy is the first guy I’ve ever dated from my home state of Mississippi, so it’ll be a nice visit home for him too. We grew up not far from each other, and know all the same landmarks. It’s a fun thing, saying stuff like, “You know, over where the Shoney’s is on County Line Road?” and having him nod along. He knows it well.
Next month, I experience a small measure of that moment when I travel to see one of my plays produced by a theatre back home. After I announced the production to my friends, it didn’t take long before a road trip was planned. So this July, George, Slutty Mandy, my boyfriend Preppy, and I are Mississippi-bound. I fully expect the crowd to grow as we get closer to the event.
Preppy is the first guy I’ve ever dated from my home state of Mississippi, so it’ll be a nice visit home for him too. We grew up not far from each other, and know all the same landmarks. It’s a fun thing, saying stuff like, “You know, over where the Shoney’s is on County Line Road?” and having him nod along. He knows it well.
Every kid who ever went to Jackson with their grandparents and had supper at 5:00 knows that Shoney’s.
My Mama and I are notorious over-planners, so something like this launches us into the stratosphere.
“I need you to find out if anyone has any food allergies,” Mama informed me in a recent conversation. “And your Daddy’s gonna fire up the grill! Goodness, I hope we have enough beds for everyone.”
“It’ll be fine. We’ll bring sleeping bags if we need to. And Preppy’s staying with his parents at least one night.”
“Oh!” she said. “I just assumed he’d be staying with them every night.”
“Well, he’ll wanna be where all our friends are.”
“Naturally. You know you two can’t share a bed, of course.”
“We understand that. Your house. No problem.”
“And since you’re both from Mississippi, I don’t have to tell you that you’ll need to behave appropriately while you’re here.”
Oh, boy. It’d been a while since we’d had this conversation. When I was still with The Ex, there was an endless list of rules and restrictions that we were expected to adhere to whenever we visited my parents. Included in the mix: no holding hands, no kissing, no hugging... basically if we could make it appear that we hadn’t been properly introduced, it would really make everyone more comfortable. We endured that for a few years, until a showdown during Christmas planning that led to us spending our holidays alone. We were just tired of making concessions for other people’s intolerance. After we broke up, I started going home again. Our relationship continued to improve. In fact, it’s better than it’s ever been.
But now there’s a boyfriend again.
“I’m going to need you to clarify what you think of as ‘appropriate’, Mama.”
“Oh, you know. There’s just some things that make me prickly, Son. I even have to look away when those boys kiss on Brothers and Sisters, and…”
“Just stop. Listen to me. I am not a TV show. I am your son. We won’t share a bed, because that’s not a big deal for us, and we won’t have any makeout sessions because that’s just tacky. But that’s it. We will hold hands, we will embrace, we will sit together, and I will tell him I love him. And when you see that happen, you can look at me and remind yourself that after I went through cancer treatment three times, and all the crap we’ve both survived, thank God you have the chance to see me alive and happy. And that I’ve found someone who loves me as much as he does. I swear if you can’t get over your own bullshit and do that, you’re gonna see a whole lot less of me. We are not going down this road again. House rules have changed.”
Mama said she understood.
My childhood dream was to come home with pride and confidence in who I’d become. And you know what?
My Mama and I are notorious over-planners, so something like this launches us into the stratosphere.
“I need you to find out if anyone has any food allergies,” Mama informed me in a recent conversation. “And your Daddy’s gonna fire up the grill! Goodness, I hope we have enough beds for everyone.”
“It’ll be fine. We’ll bring sleeping bags if we need to. And Preppy’s staying with his parents at least one night.”
“Oh!” she said. “I just assumed he’d be staying with them every night.”
“Well, he’ll wanna be where all our friends are.”
“Naturally. You know you two can’t share a bed, of course.”
“We understand that. Your house. No problem.”
“And since you’re both from Mississippi, I don’t have to tell you that you’ll need to behave appropriately while you’re here.”
Oh, boy. It’d been a while since we’d had this conversation. When I was still with The Ex, there was an endless list of rules and restrictions that we were expected to adhere to whenever we visited my parents. Included in the mix: no holding hands, no kissing, no hugging... basically if we could make it appear that we hadn’t been properly introduced, it would really make everyone more comfortable. We endured that for a few years, until a showdown during Christmas planning that led to us spending our holidays alone. We were just tired of making concessions for other people’s intolerance. After we broke up, I started going home again. Our relationship continued to improve. In fact, it’s better than it’s ever been.
But now there’s a boyfriend again.
“I’m going to need you to clarify what you think of as ‘appropriate’, Mama.”
“Oh, you know. There’s just some things that make me prickly, Son. I even have to look away when those boys kiss on Brothers and Sisters, and…”
“Just stop. Listen to me. I am not a TV show. I am your son. We won’t share a bed, because that’s not a big deal for us, and we won’t have any makeout sessions because that’s just tacky. But that’s it. We will hold hands, we will embrace, we will sit together, and I will tell him I love him. And when you see that happen, you can look at me and remind yourself that after I went through cancer treatment three times, and all the crap we’ve both survived, thank God you have the chance to see me alive and happy. And that I’ve found someone who loves me as much as he does. I swear if you can’t get over your own bullshit and do that, you’re gonna see a whole lot less of me. We are not going down this road again. House rules have changed.”
Mama said she understood.
My childhood dream was to come home with pride and confidence in who I’d become. And you know what?
I think I’m finally doing it.
