the f word~

Last night, whilst laying in bed munching down on my dinner, my boyfriend and I watched Real World: San Diego. I was slightly enjoying the mediocrity of the drunks until my boyfriend starting spitting out f-words like oxygen; by f-word I mean for you to think of Frank. Now this seems like no biggie, right? I have a boyfriend, clearly it's not offensive to me.

I'm pansexual.

The word sends tremors down my spine. I've never spoken up about it because he usually uses it freely, but not in mass succession. Last night the word was said at least twenty times in the span of thirty minutes. His father's a proud advocate of gay-bashing also. Of course the man has no idea that as he sits in his over-sized Laz-y-boy chair and spews out gay hatred venom, a true f-word is sitting directly across his own living room.

I don't generally fume at the idea of gay hatred because I believe to each his own, but when my long-time boyfriend, who knows exactly who and what I am, sits right next to me and says it like it's nothing, my very being just wants to scream.

Nobody's safe in this world.