Can't quite figure out how to start this entry with the proper tone:
1. Here we go again...
2. Is it me?
3. What the --
I guess any one of them will do. I just need some way to express the state of shock I've been in for the last 24 hours or so. Still trying to wrap my head around what happened the other night:
Okay, so I finally confronted Oliver about finding my tights in his suitcase. He was, predictably, pissed, but the rest of his response took me totally by surprise.
Turns out they're not mine at all. Which I guess should be some kind of relief, because at least now I know I"m not dealing with some clothes-stealing weirdo.
What I am dealing with, I learned after many, many hours of talk, is something far more ...
I don't know what to call it. What to call him. Except, I guess, what he calls himself, during those times when he leaves in the middle of the night and doesn't show up for hours, then refuses to talk. Which is...
The Green Arrow.
It's true. Unbelievable, but true:
I have somehow managed to find myself intimately involved yet again with a sexy older man who leads a double life as a masked crimefighter. I've never heard of a "Green Arrow" before, but then he travels around a lot, and keeps a much lower profile than Bruce. He's not one for publicity.
I somehow managed not to tell him about my own storied past, such as it is, but I figured we should limit ourselves to one major revelation a night. It's funny how closely coming out as a costumed crimefighter resembles coming out as gay. There's so much trust involved, and an accompanying feeling of power when you finally let the secret out to someone you care about. (God, I just had a flash of the first time I told Tanhoger about my little secret... Hmm, better not dwell on that too long right now. Moving right along...)
I asked him if he'd put on his full suit for me sometime. I just want to see it, before I make up my mind what the hell I"m going to do next. (I was seriously considering a return to Gotham, and I don't know if this changes everything or ... not.)
And who knows--maybe I'll come clean about the masked skeleton in my own closet soon, too. I thought my Robin days were far behind me, but something tells me they may be just beginning.
Here... we go... again.