I�d been planning it for months. I mean, literally months. The words themselves I�d been planning on saying �at some point� ever since my junior year in high school. It wasn�t until early February that I sort of decided the time was finally at hand for me to utter that life-altering phrase, �Mom? Dad? I�m gay.�
I�m 25 years old, and I�m sick of lying. It sounds clich�, I know, but eventually it just hits a point where hiding a rather large part of Who You Really Are from your own parents becomes a weight just too great to bear. I�m not saying that I lie awake every night, gnashing my teeth and loathing myself, but it dampens every happiness I feel. Every time I�m on a date and things are going wonderfully, in the back of my head is this little voice saying, �Too bad you can�t tell mom and dad about him.�
My sister didn�t have this problem when she met her husband. My brother didn�t have this problem when he met his girlfriend. They just told my parents in a casual manner, �Oh, by the way, I�m dating someone.� I can�t do that, and it hurts inside. In college, I fell in what I believed was love. For six months I was miserable, and I cried because I couldn�t be honest about it, and it terrified me whenever I considered the fact that if I did end up deciding to spend my life with a guy, I�d be forced to come clean about it. Forgive me, but shouldn�t love be something beautiful? Shouldn�t it make you happy?
I�m 25, and I�m sick of breaking out in a cold sweat whenever my parents ask me if I�m seeing anyone, or worse, why I�m not seeing anyone. My heart drops like a comet when my mother tells me she wishes I could meet someone, get married, and have children. She tells me, �I�m not trying to pressure you, I just want you to be happy, you know?� So do I. How do explain to her she may never get grandchildren from me? How do I tell her she may never get to come to my wedding, because it�s against the law in almost every state in this supposedly free country of ours?
Hell, I have a hard time explaining that part to myself. I desperately want children of my own, but it simply may never happen. And I know this one is stupid, but my father is the only son in a family of six children. My little brother and myself are the only ones left to carry on the family name, and, well�it�s not looking like I�m a viable candidate anymore. And I know this situation isn�t particular to gay men -- there are many women who never meet anyone, or for other reasons are unable to bear children -- but that doesn�t make it any easier. I can�t be artificially inseminated, and even if I do meet someone, children aren�t really in the offing.
I guess that�s all neither here nor there. The point was that I decided I was going to tell them and at least have the deception out of the way for good. I chose this past weekend to do it, because it�s not something to be said over the phone, and my parents were (conveniently?) coming out to L.A. to visit me.
On Saturday, we took a walk together on the beach. I burned to a cinder, but it was worth it. I love spending time with them (and there were a shitload of hot boys in various states of undress down there), and I kept thinking to myself how pretty soon, I wouldn�t have to pretend that I didn�t notice the cute guy in the board shorts who kept smiling at me. I was nervous, but I felt okay about it.
And then came dinner. We had martinis, we had wine, and we sat down at dinner and started talking. All of a sudden, I had the same feeling I always get before I get on a roller coaster; my heart started pounding, my hands started to shake, my mouth went dry, and my legs liquified underneath me. I couldn�t concentrate and I could barely understand what they were saying. There was no moment at which the timing was perfect, no appropriate segue (�speaking of gay children, that�s what you have!�), and no opportunity, it seemed, for me to ease it into the conversation. So I decided to just blurt it out.
The words were on the tip of my tongue, and I opened my mouth to say them�and for a split second, I thought I was going to throw up all over the table. I was a complete wreck. I couldn�t sit there for another minute, so I excused myself, ran to the bathroom, hunched over the toilet, and cried. In that moment, I knew that I wasn�t ready for the truth to come out (so to speak). I simply couldn�t tell them. So I returned to the table, feeling empty.
I love my parents and I had a wonderful time with them, but I couldn�t wait for them to go home so I could stop feeling so deceitful and so sick to my stomach. What if we ran into someone I used to date? What if we bumped into someone I met at a gay bar? What if my mother found that copy of Rolling Stone I saved, simply because the cover was a really hot picture of Johnny Depp?
I�m sick of what-ifs, but I just couldn�t do anything about it. Consequently, I was in a foul mood and I ended up taking it out on some people who didn�t deserve it, for which I�ve since apologized. Still, I�m kind of at a loss here. I�ll have another shot at it when my parents come back in August, but will I be ready then? Or will I run and hide a second time? Only time will tell, I suppose.
I�m sick of time.
Problem solved! Although, is this trying to say that if you�re not gay you�re Jennifer Love Hewitt? What is that supposed to mean?
