It's been too many years in the making. But I knew that, one day, it would happen . . .
I first started experimenting with guys in my early 20's, and back then, I never imagined that the day would come that I'd have that painful, yet incredibly liberating conversation with my parents about my sexuality.
I've blogged about it for years. In fact, to really appreciate this story, you should start from the beginning, here. I've stressed about it, lost night after night of sleep, weighed the pros and cons and thought through every possible scenario until my brain cried 'enough.'
But in the end, it just sorta happened.
I tried to do it over Mother's Day weekend last year. I bought a last minute ticket home, sat through my cousin's boring graduation, and ended up wussing out, despite the fact that I promised myself, my friends, and my boyfriend that I was going to come out. Of course it wasn't the "best timing" for coming out, as my grandfather had died a few months earlier, but the "bad timing" excuse was starting to wear thin . . . I flew back to Dallas, completely disgusted with myself and embarrassed.
A few months later, my family's annual 4th of July party drew me back home.
I promised myself that it would happen this time . . . the endless questions about my "dating life," or lack thereof, in my parents' eyes, were driving me nuts. And I'd been in a relationship for six months by then . . . it was only fair to my boyfriend that I start making steps towards introducing him to the family.
So I flew to the midwest on July 1.
As usual, I was swamped with legal work, and took a laptop and box of files home with me.
I knew that the 'coming out experience' would drain everything out of me, and would completely rock my world and the world of my parents. And it would throw off any job-related focus that I hoped to have. So I delayed having that dreadful conversation until I finished my project.
And then the time came.
My project completed, I had no more excuses, no more justifiable reasons to delay that talk that had been building up for years.
It was July 3, 2009.
My parents and I, in preparation for the big family gathering on the 4th, had spent most of the morning shopping. After lunch we drove back to the lake house, unloaded the SUV, and unpacked the 50+ bags of food.
I made us 3 very strong drinks and asked my parents to join me on the back porch.
"Isn't it early?" My mom asked.
"It's after noon," I replied, "So we're good!"
My parents met me on the back patio. They sat together on a porch swing, facing the lake. I sat across from them in a rocking chair, facing the house. My mother's sunglasses were dark, large and dark, shielding her eyes.
They were relaxed and happy.
"So, we want to know who you're dating," my Dad said.
Nervous as hell, I dodged the question.
But my dad didn't let me avoid it. I knew I couldn't dodge the topic any longer. I couldn't go back to Dallas a failure.
It was time.
"Are there any girls in the picture? Just tell us if you've had any dates? Even one date?"
My mom sat silently, sipping her cocktail.
"Well," I started, a lump in my throat, my heart racing, "this is something that I wanted to talk with you about for a long time now . . ."
I had never, in my life, been so nervous and unsure of myself
More to follow . . .
