In a Modern Love column in The New York Times, Maria Bello casually came out of the closet by writing about a conversation she had with her 12-year-old where she explained that she was now dating a woman named Clare, who was wearing a fedora and speaking in her Zimbabwe accent when they first met. I don’t know why that detail made me giggle, but it did and now I can’t stop imagining Clare tipping her fedora at Maria Bello.
So back to Jackson’s question, with me sitting on the edge of his bed: Was I romantic with anyone right now?
I exhaled and finally said it: “Clare.”
He looked at me for what seemed like an eternity and then broke into a huge, warm smile. “Mom, love is love, whatever you are,” he said with wisdom beyond his years. (Yes, he obviously attends one of those progressive schools in Los Angeles!)
I loved him so much for saying that. “But Jack, I’m a little scared,” I said. “When I was younger, people judged you if you were in a romantic relationship with a person of the same sex, and some still do. So I’m not sure how to deal with this. But we’ll figure it out together.”
I should probably be focusing on how crazy it was that Maria Bello nonchalantly announced her bisexuality in a New York Times piece and discuss her definition of what a partner is, but… this kid is 12? God, I hate precocious kids. Mostly because they’re creepy and weird. Oh, you’re wise beyond your years? What are you, a grown man trapped in a child’s body? An antique clown staring at me from the foot of my bed in the middle of the night would be less unsettling than you.