CAUGHT

Being caught in the rain sound exactly as it sounds. It fucking sucks. There I was walking the thirty-minute plus hike, my laptop bag secured in front of me, my travel mug clasped in one hand and my umbrella out.

Where was Rihanna when you needed her? The rain pelted me, and my unfortunate white shirt and exercise pants, with a force to match gays at the Gaga concert. The only saving grace to this 21^st century version of the walk of shame was having Mystery Man walk with me.

“ My mom always said ‘The rain is only gods tears washing away the soul of all troubles’.”

As soon as he said this I couldn’t help but wonder if god offered a bath of his tears. Or maybe sold them at Walmart.

As we got closer to home, and the rain started dripping from the leaves instead of from the sky, Mystery asked me a question. “Why don’t you get offended when people say faggot?”

I was caught off guard. Where did this come from? Who is this new person? Did the rain cleanse his soul of the nice and inquisitive Mystery Man and turned him into this…beast?

I opened my bag to make sure my laptop was okay (that would be the icing on the cake, to have a ruined computer, right?)

“I’m not sure why. Maybe because I was never called that in a harmful way. Maybe because I use it too often that people kinda just brush it off.”

“So, if I called you a faggot,” mystery started, “ You wouldn’t be offended?”

I shook my head no.

“I wonder why some….”

“Gays,” I finished for him.

“Right, why some are like that?”

We stopped in front of his apartment, said our “see ya laters” and I walked off wondering why some of us get offended at that term. It’s just a word. A phrase. A term. It’s a word that describes us, but not a word that describes US.

That word isn’t who you are, what you’ll become and who you love.

I want to know how you feel about that word. Does it anger you? Make you sad? Happy? Why?