Kat and I almost met by way of some mutual Psycho Friends who had gathered at a local bar for a night of dancing. A group of us were out on the floor swaying and stepping to personalized rhythms. I spotted a lovely woman across the room, she joined in the dance and I freaked out. She got too close (3 feet) to my comfort zone and I lost my sway and step. My arms and legs swung out in all directions as if they were attached by rubber bands. The rest of me shook three beats ahead of the music. I danced like that for quite a while, and when I opened my eyes Kat was gone! She later told me that she thought I was a cute nut flailing all over the dance floor. I am glad she found my panic to be so entertaining.

A few months later we actually did meet at a friend's party. There was no dancing, just talking. I learned that Kat had lived in Texas as a small child. Her father's job had taken the family of five to the Middle East and Europe. Kat, the oldest child, returned to the States to attend college. I would describe her family as a white middle class two-parent family.

I grew up in a housing authority projects in Kentucky. I am the youngest of an African American woman's 10 children. I have never known a father. My mother's job took me to the houses of the white women who hired her to clean. It was one of her employers and an older sibling who encouraged me to take my child and go to college. My daughter had been born during my junior year of high school.

Fourteen years later I was a tenured member of the university. Kat had been there for five years teaching and working on a doctorate. We had never seen each other until that night on the dance floor. Many of our Psycho Friends take credit for having brought us together.

It seemed a lot of people were happy for us when we first started dating. We were so taken by each other that we did not pay too much attention to others. As our relationship became more serious, there was a definite distinction between those who supported us and those who wanted us apart for every possible reason, from abscessed teeth to zymosis. There have been times of screaming and crying and manipulation and blame and name calling and prejudice and homophobia, and you name it.

Each family has told us that it was all done out of love; they know what is best for their respected love one. "That other woman is a butch and she is the one who introduced that lesbianism mess. The relationship is a short-term mid-life phase due to temporary hormone confusion. A few others in the family have gone through the same thing. You know your body can play tricks on you like that. Once menopause sets in, everything will be back to normal."

The 1st year we lived together, only two of my closest relatives made an effort to visit. That still hurts. I was also invited to move out West, where the bonus would be a good mental institution where I could get some Christian help. I graciously declined the thoughtful gesture. A sibling offered homemade handwritten revisions of the Bible as an incentive to do the right thing. There is not a happy ending to that story.

Nor is there much to be said for the former friends who viewed Kathy as the Texas oil baron's daughter who bought my attention with trinkets of affection and lesbian after dark puppet tricks. And there were those who referred to me as the domineering, kick butt, pistol packing, ghetto momma babe with the special sauce.

Kat and I are very grateful that the good days far outnumber the not so good times. We have put a lot into the solid friendships that have developed over the years. The following boundaries have allowed us to continue to grow as individuals and as a couple.

First and foremost, we do not offer explanations or apologies for who we are or who we love. We expect respect. Our relationship is not available to family and friends for debate or analysis. And last, we use time and space for us, and for those we care for but can not tolerate at this particular time.