Free Unashamed by Emma Janson Page A

men and one for the women —”
    I didn’t let her finish; I simply cut her off. “Oh my God, Mom, I know! ” Then we both fell quiet because we were finished talking about this unholy subject. Mom ended the conversation with the childhood nickname mothers make up out of love; the name that doesn’t make any sense and makes their kid’s skin crawl when spoken. Only mine wasn’t made from love; it was made from some kind of inside joke that I will never be privy to. “Well, Fungus, I love you, but I’m going to go.”
    “I love you too, Mom, but stop calling me Fungus.” And we pleasantly hung up the phone as if a typical conversation had just taken place. I walked back to my room and mumbled to myself, Fungus. What the fuck does that mean anyway ?
    Days later, when I felt the time was right, I talked to Melanie about dating me. I assured her no one would know. This was a bold move, yet, I was comfortable asking face to face. She actually surprised me in saying that she liked both Rick and me, but felt something serious was developing between the two of them. She apologized while touching my hair and told me how pretty I was at the same time.
    For some reason, I didn’t take this as rejection. I was sincerely not wanted as much as someone else and it was okay with me. Internally, I knew that I couldn’t win them all, and really, the act of asking a girl to date me was accomplishing something far more than getting the wanted answer. It did, however, take awhile for me to stop thinking she would change her mind. It hurts when you are not the chosen one.
    The first girl to express anger from my rejection came from my straight man-loving friend, Lynn. I had no clue she was even interested in me until the night she had a little too much to drink and asked me to talk to her in the bathroom. She was upset because she had been trying to show interest in me and just wanted to know if I found her attractive. When I gently explained that I only saw her as my friend, she became wild with anger. After calming down, she suddenly grabbed my head and pressed her face to mine as I tried to pull away. I tightened my lips, squeezed my eyes, and attempted to take a step back, which sent me flying into the wall behind the bathroom door. She called me a bitch and continued screaming obscenities at me as she jerked open the door to leave. As if the door nearly hitting my face wasn’t enough, her final dig was calling me a “fucking dyke,” as she took off her shoes and threw them down the hall toward her room. Her feet slowly slapped the tiles as she stumbled and sobbed. It hurt her not to be the chosen one.
    I ran back to tell Annica about rejecting Lynn, and, in true Annie style, she tsked me while she smoked her cigarette.
    Rejection from the same sex wasn’t the only kind I experienced in the early days of sexual discovery. It was apparent that Franklin and I didn’t really like each other outside of our little pokey-poke sessions. Matter of fact, he explicitly told me once that he was with me because he was waiting on “The One,” and, once she came along, I was going to be tossed aside like an old hat. Tired of being his cum rag, I made it seem like a tragic love tale as I told him to go fuck himself with pleasant, lovely words, of course. No more playing cards with Franklin’s small deck. Realistically, we didn’t respect each other enough to watch a movie in the dayroom, let alone share quality time on a date, so I lost no sleep over that rejection. In fact, I slept very well that night and even took a nap the next afternoon. I don’t know how long I was out before the phone rang and shot me out of bed so fast I became dizzy. I answered hello in that deep-just-woke-up-clearing-your-vocal-cords kind of way. The man on the other end said my name with question.
    My head cocked to the side inquisitively as I rubbed the corner of my eye with my finger. It sounded so familiar, yet, I wasn’t fully awake so nothing triggered