National coming out day is October 11. I fucking hate bandwagons, so I came out to my dad two days ago. My dad was the only major figure in my life I hadn't talked about it with yet; my mom outed me to herself while I was living in New Zealand last year via a surreal series of phone conversations.
Mom: I was watching Oprah the other day...
Me: Oh, God. (I respect Oprah enormously, but anything that gives my mother ideas is dangerous.)
Mom:... and they had this thing on about transgender, I mean transsexual, anyway people unhappy with their sex, and their parents, and then I had a nap, and I had a dream, and anyway if you're not happy with your gender you can tell me. How's your gender? How's your sexual orientation?
Me: ...Fine?
Mom: You can tell me.
Me: I'm thrilled to death to be a man. Couldn't be happier. Me and my penis against the world.
Mom: Well. I'm sorry to have lost another warrior for women's rights.
Me: What the hell does that mean? I'm all for skirts having the vote.
Mom: Nevermind.
Eventually, I bargained her down to gay from tranny. She immediately asked me if I'd ever been in love, which is an appalling question in any context.
Whereas my dad took it in stride, and then the next day told me to tell my friend that it had gone like this:
Me: Dad, I'm gay.
Dad: That's okay, I'm not your real father. Let's go get drunk.
My dad is awesome.
Whereas my dad took it in stride, and then the next day told me to tell my friend that it had gone like this:
Me: Dad, I'm gay.
Dad: That's okay, I'm not your real father. Let's go get drunk.
My dad is awesome.
1 comment:
That's fantastic. Congratulations. You know, if, I was lucky enough to contribute to your gayness, I will brag about it.
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