So I went out with my dad.

Turns out we had to do some stupid errand which he either was too lazy to do or couldn’t do by himself. Mother was away, probably taking one of her numerous courses in, oh I don’t know, painting, jewelry design, gardening, guitar playing, whatever strikes her fancy that week. That woman has a thirst for knowledge that befuddles me. It’s like she wants to become the Dominican Martha Stewart. I can see her now, with her pastel apron and her deadpan monotone voice:

"Hi, my fellow viewers. Today we are going to try a delicious new treat. It’s my trademark MANGÚ DE PLÁTANO MADURO CON RUEDITAS DE SALAMI "SANTA CRÚ" Y REVORTILLO DE HUEVO FRITO CON ARRÓ HABICHUELA Y CARNE", which we will top with a nice bottle of the finest Chianti straight from California’s richest vineyards."

But enough about mommie dearest, let’s carry on with my story. We were on the car, on our way to god knows what bank, trying to maintain a pointless small talk to kill the unbearably awkward time we have when we’re alone together. I hate that small talk. It’s like he forces himself to ask me about trivial things like work and how fucked up my car is so we don’t have to talk about the things he really wants to ask me. Which are usually things that irritate the hell out of me. He always tries to take potshots about me and my "mysterious" personal life, since he knows shit about it and I always keep all my escapades to myself. Since he is not a complete idiot (that, of course, is a debatable subject), he notices how I leave early in the evening and come back very late in the night. Well, technically, very early in the morning. So he assumes I’m seeing someone. And he always makes sure everyone in the house hears him when he talks about "that girlfriend Kaiser has, she doesn’t leave him alone, she doesn’t want him to spend time with his family, he’s always over at her apartment", just to get me worked up and see if I give him any kind of info at all. Which I always deny him, even though I burn inside with contempt. But this is different. We’re alone now. I’m cornered. I can’t just go up to my room and ignore him like I do back home. We’re in a fuckin’ car.

Then he starts talking about my nights out. Oh god there he goes. "This Island is dangerous. It’s a fucking no man’s land. You’re coming home too late. You could get jacked. You could get shot. You could get raped" (yeah, yeah, I know, that last one is kinda pointless in my case). I don’t talk or anything. I just look away and act annoyed. Which is worse, because instead of getting the message, which in this case is SHUT THE FUCK UP, he gets even more riled up. Now he asks what he’s been meaning to ask me ever since I’ve been spending almost every evening away from home, at my boyfriend’s house…

"What the hell is it that you do when you go out anyway?"

I guess he got tired of all my generic answers and wants me to give him a detailed description of what I do whenever I go out. Not gonna happen, I thought. After all, we’re in a moving vehicle. Imagine what he’d do if I told him that all I do is hang out and have a great time with my dear BOYfriend.

Anyway I decide to take the easy way out and I just tell him that I hang out with a bunch of friends (It’s always a bunch of friends, since he fears greatly for his youngest son to be hanging around these unruly, decadent streets all by himself), and that I rarely fly solo. Obviously he’s heard this shit a million times before, so he starts with his veiled shitty innuendo remarks.

"I know about these things, I once was a young pile o’ shit myself," (gee, thanks for the compliment, asshole) "So you gotta remember to always protect yourself and don’t impregnate any of those crazy friends of yours," (which all happen to be raging lesbians) "You can’t afford to maintain any children right now, so you and that girlfriend of yours–"

"–WHAT girlfriend." I blew up. I couldn’t stand anymore the fact that he thought I was fucking one of my manly, butchy dyke-friends. How can he be so blind?! there’s no way in hell they’d let me slide their cock inside them unless I had huge boobs and my dick was a strap-on!

Anyway, my reckless reply made me feel as if a bullet train filled with explosives had just been set in motion, and at the end of the railroad, there was a huge brick wall. It was up to me now to hit the brakes and make it stop. But he kept accelerating it instead: "Well, it’s obvious you’re with someone, I mean you’re never home, you shut yourself in your room whenever your phone rings and you talk in whispers and laugh a lot, you always come late from work and say you were at a "friend’s" house, how do you think I’m gonna interpret that? Only a complete moron couldn’t see it". He was right. As much as I like to compare him to a pre-fire discovery cro-magnon, he would have to be completely braindead to not see the signs. "So don’t tell me you’re not seeing anyone, because I’m gonna know you’re bullshitting the hell out of me. And you can’t bullshit me. I invented bullshit."

Now my mood changed from annoyance to utter rage. I just wanted to open the door and roll out of the fucking car. Yet he still pressed on: "What bothers me is that even though you’ve been going out with this chick we don’t even know, you don’t have the decency to take her home and introduce her to us, we’re your parents, we wanna meet–"

"I don’t think you’re ready for that." I don’t even know why the hell I said that. He’s gonna start asking questions now. The explosives-filled train is moving even faster now. I can already see the wall. Oh God…

"Oh yeah?" He said while laughing, intrigued, opening his eyes like a big toad. "You young shit-eaters think you know everything! Why aren’t we ‘ready’? Is it because she’s fat? Is she ugly? Does she have kids? I hope that’s not it, because a chick with kids is the worst kind o’ bitch, they only looking for a sugar daddy to pay her bills and support her child, you should know that by now… I know! she’s black, isn’t she? you know you can’t have issues with color, I mean look at me i’m a fucking lump of coal–"

"–Dad, its a man"

I had done it. The Train just slammed against the wall. Everything is in flames now. Well, at least the inside of my chest seems to be…

It took him a few seconds to register what I’ve said. "What? what the hell do you–"

"It’s not a girfriend, dad, its a BOYFRIEND". I emphasized this last word as if talking to a kid, still looking pissed, but my heart was racing so fast I could take my pulse just by looking at my left pec hammering. I was trembling so hard I had to grab my knees. I felt a knot in my throat. Pull yourself the hell together! this is the moment you’ve been fearing for years and years! this is not the time to become a nervous wreck!

"You’re fucking with my head, aren’t you, you couldn’t possibly–"

"Why would I joke with something like that?"

"But all those friends you brought home–"

"Lesbians, dad. BIG lesbians. They all have their partners and some of them haven’t even been with a guy."

My mind was racing. What would he do now? would he bitchslap me? would he tell me to get out of the car? would he get till we got home and get his revolver out and shoot me between the eyes?

Luckily, we were stopped in a red light, so there was no chance of slamming the car against anything. But his silence was driving me insane. After a few akward seconds, we were jerked out of our state of shock by the car behind us, who "gently" advised us with his shrieking horn that the traffic light was green. We started moving again and I was afraid to talk. I was afraid to fuck things up even further. Luckily he broke the silence.

"And when the hell were you gonna tell me this?"

He wasn’t screaming his lungs out, like he enjoys doing when he’s outraged. Instead he used this ominous sounding, calm voice. Like the guy that does the voice-over for every damn movie trailer out there. It felt like he was restraining his true screaming voice from shattering the glass all around us. He was also breathing sharply. That creeped me out even more. But not enough to deny him a straight answer.

"I don’t know. It’s not easy to talk about these things–"

"But why didn’t you tell us sooner! We could have helped you–"

"Help me with what?! This isn’t a disease, I can’t just be treated and in the next few days start liking pussy all of a sudden–"

"You’re just confused! you’re too young, you don’t even know what you want in life–"

"I’m 25 years old with a career and a steady job! It’s not exactly a ‘confusion’ when you’re not able to get a single erection in front of a naked woman, is it?!" I was telling him this as if I had actually tried to have sex with a girl. I had to tell him this little white lie to make him see my point. I’ve never touched a woman. Although… does making out with a drunken lesbian count?

"I bet it was those ‘weird’ friends of yours who got you into that shit…"

"What part of ‘I DIDN’T CHOOSE TO BE LIKE THIS’ don’t you understand?! This is not a "fad", for God’s sakes! Goddamn, you’re starting to sound like mom". Surprisingly, I was the one raising my voice, while my father’s voice, although cracked, was a lot more subdued. His breathing was still sharp, as if he had trouble getting the air to move in and out of his lungs. Especially after that last piece of info…

"You mean your mother knows?! Why in the fucking hell do you tell her everything and always leave me in the dark, like I don’t matter, like I’m just a shadow–"

"NOBODY TOLD HER", I said, in an even louder voice, to get his attention. "She found out by accident".

"And yet that bitch never even bothered to tell me anything!"

"You think it’s easy for her? she spent nearly a month not talking to ME when she found out, can you imagine what it’d be like for her to tell you? She fears the day when you find out about this. She thinks you’re capable of the worst". And frankly, I thought so too. But so far, I was just freaked out at how relatively calm he was behaving, aside from his irregular breathing sound… That helped me open up a little, so I kept trying to, I don’t know, make him NOT go ‘ape shit’ on me. So I talked some more: "She no longer talks to me about it. It’s like she willed it out of her memory. That’s why she’s always so concerned when I go out, because she fears I’m gonna go out with all sorts of men, and she couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’ve been in a monogamous relationship for almost two years now."

"TWO YEARS?! and you managed to keep that all to yourself all that time!?"

"Come on dad, I know that deep inside your mind you already knew I was like this. I’m positive that deep inside your subconcious you always feared I’d turn out this way. You’ve seen how I never showed any interest in women, I’ve never taken a girlfirend home, and you’ve never seen me watching cheap Cinemax porn in your room like you do with (___Insert brother’s name here____)".

"I won’t lie to you. I thought about it many times. But I didn’t like that thought. And instead I kept convincing myself that you were this quiet little kid who went out and fucked around with his strange lady friends and didn’t like to talk about it. But I guess I was wrong."

"My ‘lady friends’ would much rather fuck with other ‘lady friends’."

Several more awkward minutes passed. This was the longest trip to the bank ever. Dad kept driving with one one hand, and held one side of his head with the other. as if the info he’d just taken was way too much and his skull now weighed a ton. I mindlessly thought of saying "I’m sorry", but I kicked that thought out of my mind as soon as it came in. What the hell do I have to apologize for? I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m just living a lifestile that you and the repressed, close-minded people that raised you think is unnatural and sinful. Anyway I didn’t wanna risk saying the wrong thing again, so I waited for him to talk. And boy, did he talk.

"You damn well know what I think of faggots. I have never and will never approve of that lifestyle".

"You don’t have to approve it. I don’t intend to change your opinion on homosexuality from one day to another. I just want you to see that I’m still the same person. It doesnt matter who I go out with or who I sleep with. I have achieved enough things that show you I can be a self-sufficient, successful person. Being a ‘faggot’ doesn’t make me less of a man, and I don’t think it ever will."

"I’m aware of that. But still, I do not approve of the way you’ve chosen to live your life. But aside from all that, you’re still my son, and you’re an adult, so I’m aware there’s nothing I can do about it."

We got to our destination and did all the errands in complete and utter silence. We got back to the car, and after another long pause, he asked: "Why did you decide to tell me this now?"

"I don’t know, I guess I got tired of always lying to you and mom. It sickened me, I don’t think you guys deserved that"

"You think I deserve finding out one of my sons is a queer?"

"I think you deserve to know the truth, and I think it was better that I told you myself instead of you finding out from other people."

"Other people? who else knows?!"

"(___sister’s name___) and (___brother’s name___). They’ve known for years. But they also never talk about it."

"And how the hell did they find out and I didn’t even have a clue?"

I proceeded to tell him the way my brother and sister found out about me, which is a whole different story, and a rather long one, which I shall leave for another day. By the time I finished we were about to arrive home. I felt he was angry, but not at the fact that I finally revealed this to him, but to the fact that neither my mom or my siblings were able to tell him about my dirty little secret. Since he is an insufferable attention whore, (now you see why I turned out like this?) he totally hates being left out or ignored. And this had been the ultimate exclusion act from us. All these years everyone in my home knew there was a homo in the family, except him. That’s what was killing him inside. But he took it rather well. Considering he looked as if he had been shot by Cheney. We arrived home and he turned off the engine. I refused to look him in the eyes. That would have caused me to freeze. It’s like he had turned into a fat, black Medusa. I could see he also refused to look at me when he talked and said: "Well what the hell are you going to do now, are you gonna tell your mother?"

"What for? she already knows. I think this is something you two should talk by yourselves. I’ve already done my part by telling you."

"But you’re the faggot, not me"

"And you’re the person whose reaction she fears when you find out. I think you should put an end to her worrying and tell her you know already."

He got out of the car and so did I. He walked in the house and started talking to my mom about other stuff, as if nothing happened. I roamed around to see if he would tell her right there what we discussed, but it didn’t happen. I gave up and went to my bed. As I lied down I felt as if a gigantic weight was being lifted from my shoulders, my mind, hell, my whole damn body. I felt the biggest relief I’ve ever felt in my existence. I lied there motionless, looking at the ceiling, thinking about how fucking anti-climactic this whole thing had been. Not a single tear was shed. Nobody started a screaming match. There wasn’t any physical or verbal violence whatsoever. I guess I had created those images of chaos and despair in my mind, and when the true moment came, the whole situation came through in such a different way that it knocked me out of balance. It was like bitchslapping Myke Tyson in the face, and then, when you expect him to beat the living shit out of you, he turns around and walks away without even looking back. This was almost like divine intervention. And if it was that indeed, God has a very, very, very fucked up sense of humor.

After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, I fell asleep, and dreamed that I had sprouted wings from my shoulder blades and started flying up and away, leaving everything behind and getting closer and closer to the clouds.

THE END… Or is it?*

And now for the interesting part: *The events previously described in this post haven’t actually happened. Yet. Yes, ladies and gentlepeople, WHAT YOU’VE JUST READ IS A WORK OF FICTION. Wha?! Hey don’t get mad at me! Blame my subconscious, since this is all based on a dream i had many months ago, where a similar scenario took place, and ever since that dream i’ve been more and more open to the idea that sooner or later, within the next few months, i’m gonna have to go through this. i usually always forget what i dream, but this specific dream has never left my thoughts. i know that after reading this diatribe and having your jaw drop on the floor thinking that this had really happened to me, you must feel somewhat pissed off about finding out it’s not real. but hey, i had to get it off my chest. think of it as a sort of fantasy i have about how i want things to go when i tell my dad that i’m gonna move in with another guy, and that we’re not exactly gonna be roomies and sleep in separate bedrooms.

Oh and before i forget…. nyah nyah nyah nyah nyaaaah! fooled ya! fooled ya!! nyah nyah nyah nyah nyaaaah!

OK that was a bit insensitive from my part, playing with everyones feelings like that. I shouldn’t have done that…

…And miss your comments full of poison, hatred and bitter accusations of betrayal?! LIKE HELL I WILL!!!

Posted in Family, Gay |

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