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was gay. Well, he forgot to tell me, and I forgot to notice. Hey, it could happen—you know when you’re first in love and you’re grinning at each other like goofballs and making out all the time (everything looks better when you’re infatuated, doesn’t it?) like it’s lit from within and you’re telling each other everything like “I’m a Libra
    I like fireflies on a warm summer night
    I like long moonlit walks on the beach on acid—oh, did I forget to tell you I was gay?”
    “I should have had a V8!”
    Actually, he told me later that I had turned him gay
    by taking codeine again.
    And I said, “You know, I never read that warning on the label.”
    I thought it said heavy machinery, not homosexual ity—turns out I could have been driving those tractors all along!
    Turning people gay is kind of a superpower of mine. It’s not called upon a lot, but when it is, I pick up my little pink phone, I put on my rainbow-colored cape, and I’m there like a shot!
    You know, I was probably turning people gay for a long, long, long time without even knowing it. Because I took a lot of codeine—and I traveled. So there are probably pockets of homosexual communities all over the world started by me. You may have seen some of my handiwork.
    My doctor told me that codeine stays in your liver for seven years. I mean unless you have a good lawyer. Well, I don’t. I do not have a good lawyer, so what I’m trying to say is, there’s probably still some codeine in my liver. So, if you find yourself on your knees in front of someone of the same sex—nude—and that’s not where you usually hang out
    Happy Chanukkah from all of us at “Wishful Drinking”!

8
    BRISK AS A BULLET SHOT THROUGH THE CENTER OF EVERYTHING
     
    I was probably rebounding from Paul when I met Bryan (a week later), but Bryan is really, really attractive.
    When I met him, he had hair. Actually, I do that, too—I make them bald, I turn them gay, my work is done!
    But, Bryan took really, really good care of me, and this was the first time a man had ever done that. You know, my father left when I was two (oh, poor, sad Carrie!), and Paul and I were the two-flower thing, so this was the first time a man had ever taken care of me. I mean, he used to give me baths (like I was a Labrador).
    Bryan took such good care of me that I thought, “this guy will make a good father.” And I was right, he made a great father—and he still does. So fearing now that finally everything would be all right, nine months later our daughter was dragged from my body as though it was a burning building. And once this well-fed, round creature was rescued from the rubble of me, I sent out a birth announcement which read:
     
    Someone’s summered in my stomach,
    Someone’s fallen through my legs,
    To make an infant omelet,
    Simply scramble sperm and eggs.
     
    So, Bryan and I named our adorable omelet Billie. Billie Catherine Lourd. So, a year later when Bryan left me for Scott—well naturally, I was devastated. I loved Bryan—and I really liked those baths. But my mother was fantastic to me during this time. I mean, my mother
    she’s
    well, she’s like a mother to me and she said this great thing.
    She said, “You know, dear, we’ve had every sort of man in our family—we’ve had horse thieves and alcoholics and one-man bands—but this is our first homosexual!”
    Anyway, having nothing to do with Bryan, about a year after that, I was invited to go to a mental hospital. And you know, you don’t want to be rude, so you go. Okay, I know what you must be thinking—but this is a very exclusive invitation.
    I mean, hello—have you ever been invited to a mental hospital?
    So, you see, it’s very exclusive. It’s sort of like an invitation to the White House—only you meet a better class of people in the mental hospital.
    My diagnosis was manic-depression. I think today they call it bipolar—so you might say I swing both ways. But unless you say it really, really loud, I probably won’t hear you.
    Oh! Before I