The Closet Door Goes Into the Wood Chipper
Previously, on Battlestar Galactica…
The two hour ride from Tucson to Phoenix that Friday afternoon seemed much longer. It came as a relief when the bus finally pulled into the station and I saw my folks waiting for me. At least now everything would all be in the open.
Small talk predominated on the drive home. How was class? Has the weather down south been nice? Is your roommate any less of a jerk?
Again, over dinner, not a word was said about the 800 pound gorilla in the room.
Nothing was said after dinner either, so around 8 pm I started getting ready to go out.
An hour later—literally as I was on my way out the door—my mom turned to me and said, “So…are we going to talk about this thing?”
“This thing?” I asked. “What do you want to know?”
“You think you’re homosexual?”
“I know am.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“And for how long?”
“As long as I can remember.”
It might be helpful to note here that my mom worked as an interior designer. She’d been exposed to gay men all her life, and you’d think she would’ve been a little more sympathetic. But as it turns out, she’d only been exposed to one small subset of gay culture, and neither I nor my friends exactly fit the mold of the fussy, mincing nelly boy drama queens (not that there’s anything wrong with that) she’d dealt with all those years. It’s no wonder she never suspected her own son; I didn’t conform to her preconceived notions of what gay men supposed to be.
I don’t remember exact words, but we argued back and forth for quite some time. “But how can you believe anything in that book? It was written by homosexuals!”
At least she’d read it. Too bad none of it sunk in.
We were getting nowhere. At last I decided it was time for what would now be called “the nuclear option,” something I was more than prepared to use. It was time to fish or cut bait. I told her that she either had to accept me for who I was—not who she thought I was or wanted me to be—or I would leave her life forever.
“Fine, if that’s the way you feel about it.”
“Fine,” I said. I got up and started walking toward the door. “I’ll start packing tomorrow and be out by the end of the week.”
“Alex…” she said, her voice breaking. “Wait.”
I stopped and turned.
“Come back.”
“I can’t lose you,” she said.
“It’s your choice.”
She looked to my dad for assistance, but I don’t remember what—if anything—he said.
“All those young men at your party…they were all…homo…gay?”
She was making an effort.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Even Phil?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“But he seems like such a nice young man.”
“He is a nice young man, Mom.” (And he gives great head, too.)
She wiped her eyes and said, “You have nice friends.”
“Thank you. I like to think so.”
“Are you happy?”
“Yes.”
“All right,” she said. “I’m not, but this is obviously something I don’t have any control over.” (My mother giving up control was huge.) “As long as you’re happy I’ll guess I’ll have to learn to live with it. You’re still my son and I love you.”
Ahhhh, Would we expect anything less from our mothers? Your dad’s nut sack had to be drawn up tighter than an over filled water balloon. Well having all that out in the open with your parents had to be liberating and enabled you to bloom. Good for you.
I missed parts 1 through 5, but I loved part 6. It made me a little teary, and that is no easy task.
Now, if you are still in touch with Phil, can you give him my number? I could use some good head.
I got scared when you gave her the option. I’m glad she made the right choice.
Thanks for the story. I had to go back to read all of the parts. For a young(ish) man still working his way out of the closest, this was an inspiration!
“You’re still my son and I love you.”
The words we all want to hear and believe.
As I read this part, I was actually holding my breath! I’m happy for you that your Mother accepted!
ahh… how beautiful.
Great story. I actually stumbled across your journal because a friend posted a picture of some random hot guy that linked back to your site. You made me a little nostalgic for Tuscon though and god I hadn’t thought about Louie’s Lower Level in years.
I’m glad your Mom was willing to put her beliefs aside. It’s easy to love someone who does everything you want them to do, the real challenge is loving someone who stubbornly does their own thing. It’s a lesson we’re all working on, I think.
There’re always tears and “whys?” and such. But it sounds like she was fairly cool over all.
Oh, and MY dad pulled the same “I’ve known you were gay for quite some time,” thing on me. Nice.
Very, very, sweet!
Aren’t moms great? I know I’ll always love my boys, no matter what. I’m glad your mom does the same!
I have two young gay men living in my house right now because their mothers did not have that same response. I’m glad your mom realized what a great blessing she was in danger of losing. Nice story. thanks for posting it.