Coming Out: The Parents, The Final Chapter

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.  Like always, her hair was perfect, blonde and reflective like her sunglasses in the shadowed afternoon sun.  My dad, strong and quiet as always, stretched his arm across the back of the swing and pushed the swing back and forth slowly and rhythmically with his sandaled foot. 

They were relaxed and happy.  

"So, we want to know who you're dating," my Dad said, breaking the cool silence.  

I awkwardly dodged the question, my nerves twitching and poking at my skin, urging me to break through the thin haze that continued to cloud my sexuality. 

But my dad didn't let me avoid his question.  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, no doubt hoping to hear something that she could tell the ladies at church and the local Rotary Club.  

"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. 

"I am not dating any girls."

"What do you mean, not dating any girls?"  My Dad asked, still completely clueless.  My mother sipped her cocktail quietly- more perceptive than my Dad, she could likely sense that a bomb was about to be dropped.

"You're not dating anyone?  Even one date?  I don't believe that," my Dad continued, "Just tell us about about any dates you've gone on - we're curious.  You never tell us anything."

"Well, Dad," I gulped, suddenly a bit emboldened by the rolling snowball of honesty, "I haven't dated any girls in two years.  Remember Heather, the girl you met that you thought I was dating?  She was just a friend.  I don't date girls."

"You dont . . ." 

He got it. 

Again, my mother . . . stoic and unreadable behind her giant sunglasses. 

"Are you telling me you're . . . Are you gay?"

This was the moment of truth - I could lie and say something like, "Just kidding!" or "I'm not sure, but I'll let you know," or "I don't know," but in all reality, I DID know.  I was a raging, card-carrying, boyfriend loving homo, and it was time they knew the truth. 

"Yes, I like guys.  And I have for a long time, but just haven't been honest with you about it." 

My parents sat there, stunned and emotionless for at least a minute, a very long time for silence after such a revelation. 

"Are you seeing anyone?"  My dad finally asked.

"Yes," I responded, surprised, "Do you- do you really want to talk about that right now."

Still no response from my mom.  My dad frowned.  "No, I don't really think I'm ready for that yet."

"How long have you known?"  My dad asked.

And then it was time for word vomit.  I basically told them every G to PG-13 story in this blog, from the story about my first boyfriend to the game warden I dated, to the last girl I was with. 

I spoke, with little to no response from my parents, for almost an hour, until it was time to pick up my sister from the airport.  And my mother never said a word about it.  Her eyes remained behind the sunglasses, and her emotions remained completely unreadable.  Like typical midwesterners, my parents instantly hardened themselves to the disturbing news and rallied for the next challenge at hand, the arrival of our crazy extended family. 

We didn't speak of it again for the rest of the weekend. 

Looking back now, a year later, the coming out experience could've been a lot worse.  My parents could've disowned me.  They could've tried to send me to a psychologist or a priest. 

It also could've gone a lot better.  They could've hugged me and said that they would love me no matter what.  Or they could've smiled and said that they loved the fact that I was gay.  But that didn't happen.  In fact, my folks were completely and utterly shocked about my confession.   

But they've come a long way in the last year.  And I commend them for their efforts, and now, in less than a month, my parents will meet an openly gay boyfriend of mine for the first time. 

I look forward to sharing these stories with you.

Comments

[jay]

I wanna see the rest of the story! :)

[BB]

I love the suspense, I had butterflies in my stomach! I can’t wait to read the rest of your story!

[Donny with a D.]

AND....
What 'appened???
Your story is our story.

[mia]

oh, don't leave us hanging! hurry up with the part two of this post please!

[jay]

So i havent been reading blogs at all over the past few months. I've been swamped with work and life and havent even blogged so much myself. I'm finally getting back into it, and check out this blog. The heading sounded great, finally! And then you leave me hanging? Not fair! ;) Hope you finish it sometime soon,
Jay

[Michael]

Great to hear your story...well at least some of it. I'm assuming you did then follow through...and want to wish you congratulations! You picked the perfect day to come out to your parents. July 3 is my birthday. :-P

just kidding. anyway check out my blog -
expansionofspace.blogspot.com

I frequently discuss topics on sexuality. I read through your previous entries and think maybe you'd be interested? I'd love your input on anything that you have thoughts on...

Keep us posted on the rest of your year off from blogging!! :)

-Michael

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