Gawky by Margot Leitman Read Free Book Online Page B

sleeping, I would now look forward to going to sleep so I could lie in bed and dream about dancing with Bobby myself, alone, while wearing a turtleneck. The idea that something so sexy was humanly possible made me feel alive and invigorated to start my next day.
    Then, one afternoon, while I watched MTV and stroked my green stone cross, praying to God that “Roni” would come on, a new video for Bobby Brown’s song “Every Little Step” premiered. Bobby and the dancers wore matching black-and-white costumes, not Hammer pants and Costco turtlenecks. The video looked professionally recorded and was precisely choreographed. Bobby no longer was allowed to run around onstage freestyling his own dance moves. Someone had started controlling his sexiness.
    But I still knew what lay beneath. I decided that Bobby was probably dating the backup dancer on the right because I thought she was the prettiest. She was a thin, light-skinned black girl with long black hair and a killer strut. I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Move over Laverne and Carol Burnett, there was a new tall woman to emulate and her name was Tanya. I didn’t actually know her name was Tanya—there was no Google at the time—so I created a name for her and hoped that Bobby was with her. Perhaps in a few years when I grew into my frame, I could look like that too. Maybe I could have a career as a Bobby Brown backup dancer. After all, I had worked very hard at mastering the nuance of his choreography in my oven door.
    Every time this video came on, which was much more frequently than “Roni,” I found myself watching Tanya more than Bobby. Whereas with “Roni” I was mesmerized by Bobby’s allure, in “Every Little Step,” Tanya stole the show. Because I found Tanya to be so beautiful, I assumed that I must now be a lesbian. Why else would I be so enthralled with her? Tanya wore above-the-knee black boots and had long curly hair that looked like a darker version of Whitney Houston’s desirable locks in the “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” video. She wore a skintight black Lycra dress that accentuated all the right parts of her body in a way that my unitards for modern dance class never did. There was no other possible scenario beyond sheer lesbianism to explain my attraction to Tanya. I would come out to my parents when the time was right and would hope for their blessing. My mother would be initially concerned about how I would be able to reproduce in a girl/girl relationship, but I would assure her that love between two women means twice the uteri and my lesbian partner and I would find a way to bear her grandchildren. Being a lesbian was fine with me; it seemed like a cool artsy thing to do. Even Madonna was sometimes gay, and she was on top of the world. Plus, my parents hadforced me to watch a movie a few weekends before called I Love You, Alice B. Toklas , and Alice was lesbians with Gertrude Stein. Gertrude was a cool depressed author, which was another possible career option for me if dirty backup Bobby Brown dancer didn’t pan out. Even though being a lesbian seemed very exciting to me, I was sad because I had to now break up with Bobby. Well, more like break up with the video for “Roni.”
    I began fantasizing about Tanya while lying in bed, sleeplessly wondering how I would phrase my coming out to my parents. I imagined Tanya teaching me her sexy strut, instructing me how to properly strap up my thigh-high boots, and helping me develop my repertoire of booty-shaking dance routines to Bobby’s latest musical masterpiece. I was sure that what I had for Tanya was love and love only, but I needed to be sure I was truly full-force gay, or at least bisexual, a word I’d learned from my surrogate “big sis,” Madonna. After all, just a month before I was certain I wanted to rub my crotch against Bobby’s groin while he sang slow jams to me. Maybe