The other day, I was in an incredible funk. I checked my email at work, and there was a message from the receptionist that said, “You have flowers waiting for you in reception.”

Crap, I thought. There is nothing more embarrassing than having your father send you flowers at work. I slunk towards the reception desk and picked up a beautiful bouquet of pink and red tulips, and then waited until I was safely alone before opening the card that was attached.

“SNAP OUT OF IT,” the card read, “Love, Holly”

I returned to my desk, smiling. I realized that perhaps despite the fact that no one ever calls me besides my parents, my friends cared about me. Over the next few days nearly every time someone walked past my desk, they commented on the beauty of my tulips.

”Who are they from?” they would ask. “Oh, my friend Holly,” I would reply with a grin.

It wasn’t until a girl I kind of new gave a look of surprise at my answer that I realized that she thought that Holly was my “friend.” I turned to my co-worker and asked her if everyone who had asked about my flowers now thought I was a lesbian. “Well,” she replied, “I’d say that about 50% of them think you are an avowed homosexual. You did say, 'friend.'” Apparently 'friend' is the new 'lover.'

I wrote to Holly and told her about our newfound love for each other. And because of her impending motherhood, I wrote, “I guess that means that I’m having a baby.”

She wrote back, “You mean WE’RE having baby.”

Later that night I told my mother about what had happened and she said, “Well Lina, if you’re going to go gay, Holly would be an excellent choice. At least she knows how to treat a woman.”