I found out that my therapist was a lesbian from another patient of hers that I know. So I told her about it at my next session, and I said that I'd assumed she was straight. She made a crinkled forehead and said, "That happens to me a lot." She is quite femme.
Later in the same session I was gesturing, and I knocked over a little cactus. I said, "Oh these plants are new." She said, "Don't worry about it; they're artificial." I said, "They look totally real. I guess succulents can pass."
I meant it as a jokey reference to our newfound shared queer culture where passing means coming off straight when you're gay. Or if you're transgender being completely perceived as the gender you're going for. But as soon as it came out of my mouth, I remembered our earlier conversation about her "passing," and realized I was calling her succulent. We shared this awkward look of recognition at what I'd just said and busted out laughing. She said, "I've got to write this one down," and we moved on.
All I could think was, "Damn you, brain!"
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