Last night I took a young friend to a meeting for LGBT youth. As he is a bit (extremely) shy and I am a bit (extremely) protective of him, I stayed in the building during his meeting, perched awkwardly in a room above his meeting room. There's a slight chance I will be asked not to return with him next time due to the scaring of other children. Curious as to whether or not he was making new friends I peered through the window and into the room below. A young boy stared back. I waved. He stared. I dropped and rolled from view like I was suddenly aflame.
Fortunately, my young gay friend (YGF, if you will) bonded with other young gay folk and no one questioned my bizarre appearance. What was questioned (by me, just now, for the sake of this article), however, was our desire to associate with our kinfolk. While waiting for my YGF, I complained to my wife that I wanted an adult group that met once a week to bake cookies and watch drag shows. Not because I can't bake cookies and watch drag shows by myself but because when I make a U-haul joke or say "you know you live in a house full of lesbians when everyone can open the jam jar but no one can open the tab on the salt container", I want people to laugh. I also want people to cheer every time I enter a room, but I'll take what I can get.
What I can get is lesbians who understand things that even the best allies never will. Searching for friends who "get it" is not unique to married lesbians or young boys looking for new social groups.
My sister loves hanging out with all of her old friends, but she feel s a special joy when spending time with other young women who know what it's like to be spat up on by a tiny bald human at 3am while her husband snores in the next room. I imagine a man who speaks Polish is pleased when he discovers his new neighbor also speaks Polish.
I guess some jokes just don't translate.