Over the rainbow

Mission 1. Hook up with someone as old as my mom (54)and as young as my sister (20) in a month.
Mission 2. Live a completely gay lifestyle (without the gay sex) for a month.

Saturday, May 28, 2005, 9 p.m. East Coast Time, Lowe Household.

I opened a door last night and invited my parents into a place both unfamiliar and sexual. And now, I am faced with the aching realization that I may never get that door to close. Because, regardless of the fallout from this whole 'coming out mess,' the path to my sexuality has been clearly marked. I fear that my parents’ speculation will lead them back to this place for life.

I needed some air. To remove myself from this present state of derelict consciousness. So, naturally I chose Northeast Pennsylvania’s best gay bar, the Silhouette Lounge as the source of my revitalization effort. It was a bit of a drive, but since this would probably be my only visit to a gay bar in PA, I wanted it to be memorable.

Walking out the door, I saw my brother look up from the TV.

“Where you off to?” He asked.

“Grabbing a beer,” I offered, fleetingly.

“Sweet,” he said, jumping up with his socked feet.

“..at a gay bar,” I finished, in a hushed tone.

He stopped in his tracks, and a grin overtook his face.

“Think there’ll be lesbians?” he said, as visions of Stuff Magazine bounced through his head.

“Can’t guarantee it, but maybe.”

“Fuck it,” he said, “let me grab my shoes. But if one of those dudes tries something, I’m fucking out of there.”

I smiled, imagining this night.

“And I’m not parking my car there, you’re fucking driving. Take dad’s truck. No one knows that.”

I grabbed the keys to my dad’s old Jeep and we headed out into the unknown.

Being in a gay bar in Northeastern Pennsylvania with my brother was the last thing I had imagined doing. Life is amazing like that. Fluid with random possibilities.

About an hour later, after getting lost, we arrived at the bar. Derek seemed a bit nervous, but he casually grabbed a stool. The bar itself was an east coast version of The Friendship, except this was decorated like a fraternity basement. Glossy black paint, strange organic horns and reflective walls juxtaposed the motif. But the artistic focal point was a Renoir-inspired oil painting with a man in Speedos. It was strangely pagan, yet justified.

“Have you ever been to one of these,” he said, looking around.

“A few,“ I replied, unenthusiastically. I was taking it all in.

“What are we supposed to do?” he said, taking a drink.

“Exactly what you’re doing, bitch,” I said motioning to his beer.

“You don’t have to be a dick about it, Rob,” he said. I could tell Derek was completely out of his element. His personality took a back seat to his apprehension.

I bumped his shoulder and he followed my focus.

“Is that what you were looking for?" I said, fixed on several menacingly large ladies wearing Dockers and cable-knit sweaters.

“Uh,” he said, taking a drink, disgustedly. Lesbian reality is a difficult pill to swallow.

Derek’s glance was fixed on the mirror in front of him, afraid to make eye contact with anyone but himself. But I had to hand it to him. He was the last person I expected to play my reindeer games.

“Are you bummed about today?” he said in a way that almost seemed sincere.

I looked into his eyes, anticipating the punch line. When it didn’t arrive, I opened up, slowly. These conversations come few and far between in my household.

“Yea, I mean it was stupid to come out,” I offered up.

“No shit,” he said.

“You can still tell the truth. They’ll be pissed, but-“

“No way, I can’t do that. “

“Whatever, it’s your choice.”

“I mean, I think I can get out of it. No doubt mom and dad are going to question me forever. The fact that they already thought I was gay seemed a bit freaky. You swear you didn’t tip them off?”

“Rob,” he said, not wanting to have to answer this again.

“Ok, fine. Sorry. I mean, if I told them the truth, I would be a monster. If I didn’t, the worst that would happen is they have a gay son. But, I think Mom and dad are so deep in fucking denial that I can get by with bi-curious. I can live with that label for a few years.”

Derek laughed. “Beer us,” he said to the bartender.

“I’m just figuring out timing. Dad gave me a few ‘outs’ today to this whole mess, but I promised Tracy that I would not bite so quickly. She didn’t want my actions to set gays back years in my parent’s head. It’s not a switch that you turn on and off. You don’t cure gayness with porn or golf. She hates that I’m doing this, but wanted me to finish up with a bit of integrity. She’s right. I don’t need to enable mom and dad’s thinking. And if that means I am bi-curious or confused, as they put it, this is not the weekend to admit it."

“That takes some sack, Rob, really, I didn’t think you had it in you."

“Neither did I,” I responded.

“By the way, have you fucked her yet?”

“Huh? Who?”

“Tracy. She totally wants to you to stick her.”

“Naa, that’s kind of my thing with her. Not sticking her.”

“But, Rob, she’s hot. When I visit can I have a go?”

“Derek, I doubt she’d be interested. But she is friends with Heather Graham, want a word in?”

“Really, with Heather Graham?”

“Na, dude,” I said. “Just fucking with you.”

“Dick.”

“Sorry,” I offered. “I’ll see if she can set you up with someone when you come out, but you've got to be chill.”

“All right, dude,I will, thanks.”

“You know, Rob, the other night you were pretty hung up on mom and dad thinking you were a queer. It was pretty funny to me. Ok, so here's the thing, you’re a pretty smart guy.--way fucking smarter than me. Well, I was waiting for you to 'get it,' but it seems like you haven’t.”

I looked at him extremely confused.

“You jackass, mom and dad didn’t think you were gay. They didn’t fucking ‘out’ you. They had to save face. Worse than having their kid come out as a fag, is them not discovering it. That's even a bigger failure in their eyes. Not knowing one of their kids liked boys, I mean, except for Shan.”

“Yea, I get that part.”

“Ok, so dad keeps touch points on us all. For you, as a gay guy, he had your faggot Persian roommate and that veggie thing, whatever. If you came out as a terrorist, he would have brought up the trash can we burned in middle school. As a drug addict, he would've said he knew because he found pot in your jacket in 11th grade. You see. It doesn’t matter what you come out as, dad will always be a step ahead.”

“Hmm,” was all I could muster. It made sense. It actually made sense. It was a bit of closure to a strange chapter in my life. I felt vindicated. Sure, I would have attached myself to any half-assed theory as to why my parents didn’t really think I was gay. But this seemed feasible. God, my parents are fucked up.

“Thanks,” I said.

“By the way, Rob, I’m an Underdog 9.”

I looked at him and smiled.

“Hey, I still think your blog is stupid, but that measuring article was funny. Make sure you print that, about me being a nine.”

“Don’t you worry, Derek. The world will know of your considerable endowement.”

And so we stepped away from the rainbow for a while. We were simply two brothers in a bar, having drinks and starting what seemed to be a new chapter in our relationship. My coming out was coming to a close, and so was my time in Pennsylvania. There would be no more talk about my sexual identity for the rest of the weekend. I wouldn’t have it. Instead, I would simply be a son and a brother.