25. i'm hotter than the platypus.

one of the meanest things anyone's ever told me was when my ex, during a talk about talking, said, "I don't think we need to talk. Just the physical stuff - being around each other - is enough."

i mean, knowing her, she meant it in a romantic kind of way, but for someone whose biggest fear is not being able to say the things that're on my mind without sounding stupid, for someone who wants to finally be able to open up and share things with someone who's more or less obligated to listen, that's a pretty crappy thing to hear.

it was weird when i found that out about myself.

i never really saw myself as the kind who would be the one in the relationship to want to talk.

the Little Spoon.

but throughout our relationship i found myself saying things like, "Don't you wanna talk about it?" and "We never talk! Let's share things!"

after a little while, hearing my echo, i realized, "Hot damn. I'm THAT lesbian. Crap."

i wasn't always like this, though.

when i was little, i was perfectly happy being the quiet kid.

i didn't know i was weird til my mother told me.

then again, she had my sisters first, so it wasn't a huge surprise to find that my shyness threw her off.

she was used to getting calls from elementary school teachers who explained, time and time again, that my sisters were way too chatty and knowledgeable for their own good (as they were both the kind to tell the others how babies were made and how babies were unmade. abortion. in the 2nd grade.).

when i came along, she was sure the calls would stop.

as a baby, i never so much as whimpered for food.

so one day, when i was in kindergarten, and a teacher actually did call home, my mother was taken aback.

she came into my room to talk to me.

"Beekie?" she said, sweetly.

"...Yes?" the unusual gentleness in her voice was a little unnerving.

"Ah you unhappy?"

"...No...I don't think so...why?"

"Yoh teacha call to tell me dat she's worried because uh you habn't said a word in 6 months."

Is that strange? i thought.

"Beekie," she started again, "You hap to staht talking, okay? Oddawise people gonna sink yoh weird. Nobody like shy people, okay? So work on dat."

i was horrified.

it didn't help that, as i was growing up, i had my sisters to compete with.

they were flippin' verbal beasts.

they've always had something witty or passionate or eloquent to say about anything you could think of.

they can make a flippin platypus sound poetic.

no offense to the platypus.

but i mean.

i'm hotter than the platypus.

on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the platypus and 10 being, like, Kate Winslet, i'm at least a bulldog.

like a 4.

but maybe i'm not giving bulldogs enough credit.

the way they walk.

always like they're headed someplace with a purpose.

doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot.

my walk's a little less doot-doot-oriented.

for as long as i can remember, really, i've waddled.

less a doot-doot and more a whop-whop.

i don't hate my walk anymore, though.

not as much as i did when i was a kid, anyway.

little kids are ass-holes.

i used to get teased to no end.

kids'd follow me around the playground, mimicking my walk.

call me Waddles.

i'd always play and laugh along, like it didn't bother me, but Little Vickie had feelings, too.

once, when i was about 10, my dad noticed that i looked a little down.

"Whatsamatter, Vickie?"

"Oh, nothing," i sighed.

"C'mon, you can tell me."

"Well...I waddle."

"...And?"

i sighed in despair again.

"Go on," he added, hastily.

"The other kids tease me, but I can't help it."

"Oh, well, Vickie, that's no big deal. You know, one of the greatest comedians of all time waddled."

being that at this point i'd already been telling anyone who'd listen that i was going to grow up and be just like Ellen Degeneres, this was a pleasant surprise.

"Really?!"

"Yeah!"

he went out and rented Charlie Chaplin's The Gold Rush and watched it with me.

the second that little tramp waddled his way into frame, i knew i was in love.

that i'd found my kindred.

i was obsessed.

the following Halloween i dressed up as the tramp.

all of the kids in the neighborhood had no clue who i was, but the old people treated me special.

slipped me extra candy.

gave me high-fives.

greeted me with a, "Hey, Charlie!"

things were going great and my waddle was the last thing on my mind.

until i got to the last house.

the little old lady who lived there greeted me with a big smile and, like the others, several extra Snickers.

i was feeling good.

i turned and made my way down her path back to my parents.

"Hey!" she cried, suddenly.

i turned back around, expecting more praise.

"You even WALK like him!"

i don't think she knew it was unintentional.

for a second, my heart sank with the memories of my playground bullies, but then i remembered my Chaplin.

and waddled on.