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"Did you ever have a girlfriend when you were in high school?" You ask.
"Me? Oh-- oh yeah. I was absolutely dripping with the fly honeys." The cogs in his mind slowly rotate from 'brag' back to 'worry' and his face grows serious. "But to be very clear. I only dated high schoolers in high school. I--" He suddenly holds up a palm, as if he thinks you're about to stand too close to him, but when you stay motionless and far away, he lowers it again. "You should really date people your own age, Wesley."
"Mr. S, I'm a lesbian," you tell him. It's a literal half-truth, but it defuses the situation well enough.
"Oh." He seems a little crestfallen. Only a little. He clears his throat and nods. "Coming out is hard. Do you need a pamphlet?" He starts rooting through his drawer.
"No."
It takes him a moment to stop digging through the messy drawer even though you've declined. "...Okay. If you need a pamphlet, let me know."
"I will."
"Good. I have lots of pamphlets."
"You were really into Whitney and Rose when you were in high school, right? And my Aunt Rosie, too? And my Aunt Cerise?"
"They were cool. Totally my peeps. Course... Alabaster was absolutely <span class="mu-i">hopeless</span> about Whitney and Rose. And Rosie's his kid sister. And Cerise is his onee. So I couldn't exactly violate bro code, you know? I let him have 'em."
"Right."
Mr. S nods, although more to convince himself than anything.
"But does it seem kind of weird to you that Dad has something like 20 or 30 girlfriends at any given time?" You ask.
"Mmm... no," Mr. S says, slowly shaking his head, after some moments of close deliberation.
"I'll see you around," you tell him. As you leave, he calls after you, "My door's always open! And those pamphlets are here if you need some!"
