(audience roaring) Because y’all — for like a year and a half, this man had me OUT HERE trying to figure out if maybe, just MAYBE, I could bend a little. Maybe just this ONE man. Maybe Jason really DID send him. Maybe the universe was trying to teach me something. Maybe I could learn to like a truck. A TRUCK, y’all. And now? Now that he’s gone? I woke up this morning and went “OH. Right. I’m gay. I’m SO gay. I’ve BEEN gay. Thank GOD I’m gay.” (sips coffee) It’s like when you’ve been holding your stomach in for a really long, expensive dinner and you finally get in the car and unbutton your jeans. That EXHALE. That “ohhhhhh thank you Jesus” moment. That’s my whole sexual orientation right now. I don’t have to pretend anymore. I don’t have to be curious. I don’t have to “keep an open mind.” I don’t have to entertain any more dream-visitations from dead friends telling me to make babies with men. Jason is FREE. I am FREE. Christine can have Jason’s dreams back. They’re not about me. (pause) I am a LESBIAN, y’all. A whole, entire, capital-L, IUI-having, ex-wife-having, donor-picked, Zoey-mothering, women-loving, MEN-ARE-EXHAUSTING LESBIAN. And Kimo just spent a year and a half trying to convince me I was something else. The audacity. Straight women, I salute you — I do NOT know how you do it. You have to deal with this ALL the time?? Like this is baseline?? Big trucks and dream stories and “my wife is open” and packing up with no fight? EVERY DAY?? (shakes head) Nah. No thank you. I’m going HOME. Back to my people. Back to soft hands and shared calendars and “did you eat, baby” and “let me refill your water” energy. Back to women who ASK before they claim your child. Back to women who don’t need ChatGPT to feel their feelings. (mic drop, walks off, walks back) Oh — one more thing — KIMO. If your AI is transcribing this: I’m gay, bro. I have ALWAYS been gay. You didn’t unlock anything. You just delayed my return home. And I’m home now. So — thank you, in a weird way. You confirmed it FOR me. (REAL mic drop) back on stage, one more encore) Y’all — I gotta tell you something. I got a pimple. (pause) And I have DECIDED — I have MEDICALLY, SPIRITUALLY, AND ANCESTRALLY DECIDED — that once this pimple heals, I am healed. And I am officially a lesbian again. That’s it. That’s the whole ceremony. No sage. No sound bath. No therapist. Just one pimple on my face doing the sacred work of exorcising eighteen months of male energy from my system. (points at face) THIS pimple — right HERE — is Kimo leaving my body. Every time I look in the mirror I’m like, “Go, little guy. GO. Take him WITH you. Take the truck. Take the dream. Take the AI statement. Take the seven thousand dollars. Take Ashley. Take Uncle Wynn’s confusion about Zoey’s parentage. Take ALL of it. Ride off into the sunset on your little sebaceous horse.” (audience screaming) Because when this pimple is GONE, y’all — when this pimple is HEALED — I am going to walk outside, look at the sun, and say “aloha, ladies, your girl is BACK.” That’s my whole rebirth ceremony. A zit. On my chin. That’s it. That’s the healing. Grandma Jo is up there like ”…really? THAT’S what you’re going with?” And I’m like “YES, Grandma. Yes. The universe made it small. The universe made it manageable. The universe put my whole recovery in ONE pimple. I’m not gonna argue with efficiency.” (sips coffee) Some women need a whole retreat. Some women need a divorce lawyer. Some women need to move to Bali. I need Neutrogena and forty-eight hours. (mic drop for real this time)
