Prodigal Son

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.

As progressive as my family likens themselves to be, we are stuck in the same rut as most. The same Ordinary People-like repression. The same nocturnal symptoms of suburbia. And, being true to our nature, the Lowe family is dining together in a bizarre recreation of the American dream. We are sitting at the same table, at the same country club, ordering the same wine and wearing the same style of attire. We are smiling to the same people, ordering the same food and sharing the same Ivy League stories we have for years. God, we are bored.

"Mom"

"One sec honey, I just got some salad dressing on my skirt."

"I’ve got some news."

My brother kicked me under the table and smirked.

"Oh my God, Rob, did you finally meet someone?"

"Well, no, I mean, not exactly."

My family looked confused.

I was confused.

"It was time. There was no turning back. Or was there? This whole stupid mission was just some self-imposed task. No one cares if I cave. Shit, these are my parents, I could ruin my relationship for life," I thought.

And with those words of wisdom to guide me, I simply blurted it out.

"Mom, dad, I’m gay."

And out Rob Lowe came. Like a breath of fire.

Silence.
More silence.
Still more silence.

My parents faces went vanilla.

"What was wrong with me? What kind of ungrateful son was I? Did I fuck up?" I worried.

I needed someone to break the silence. Shit. I looked at my sister to say something.

"Oh, Rob," she said supportively.

I looked at my dad. He was watching his wine swirl.

I looked at Derek, he was looking away, trying not to laugh.

I looked at mom, and she looked at me. Finally, she came to my rescue and broke the awkward silence.

"But what about Jenny Pfieffer?" she said.

"What about her, mom?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, you two dated for quite some time in high school, I assumed you had-"

"Mom, this is not about Jen, this is about me. And, shit, that was 12 years ago. People change.”

Silence.
More silence.
Still more silence.

My dad spoke through the mouth of his wine glass, his eyes fixed on the Red’s body.

"How long?" he asked, dejectedly.

"I don’t know, a while."

"Have you?" He didn’t have to finish.

"No, I mean, not yet."

"Then, how do you know?" he said with more conviction and finally making eye contact.

"I just do Dad. I’m sorry, I know this is hard. I’m sorry."

In a voice as delicate as the night blooms in spring, my mom slayed me with just four words.

"Rob, we’ve always suspected," she said.

My sister nodded in reserved agreement.

“I knew you’d tell us when the time was right," mom finished.

"Yikes, wait, no. Am I really hearing what I am hearing? This is the fucking Twilight Zone." I thought.

"What?" I said in utter amazement

"I mean, it must be hard for you. And we appreciate you finally trusting us enough share that part of your life with us. I can't say that we're happy. We're not, but-"

"But, why did you think that? Dad, did you think that too?" I said, raising my voice.

My dad looked down again and nodded. His worst fears had come to light. But at least he had seemingly prepared himself.

"Dad!" I pleaded, more as a question.

"Well, when you moved to California for college you changed. I figured there may have been some experimenting. That freshman roommate you had, uh."

"Amir" my mom said.

"Yea, that guy seemed like he may have been, and you stopped eating meat, right after. I mean, everyone around here your age is married with kids. But you are almost 30 and aren't really dating anyone. Your mom and I had just been talking-"

"Dad, he was Persian, not gay. And straight people can be vegetarians,” I told him.

"I guess, and I mean you dated that girl from the TV show a while ago, but you could have been lying about that. Plus, you-"

"Dad, I e-mailed you pictures of us together."

"Oh, but you can’t believe them. People put heads on other people’s bodies all the time on the Internet. There’s been a real interesting ruling recently in that area.”

"Yea, my friend Chris put his ex-girlfriend’s face on that tit shot of Tara Reid.” Derek chimed.

"Derek," my mom blasted.

"He better be careful with that," my dad said. As if his shift had just changed from his son outing himself to penal codes.

I needed a breath. I found myself starting to defend my straightness, and that wasn’t really the point. I was pissed. My parents totally threw me off my game.

"Was this really fucking happening?" I thought. "Did my parents upstage me once again? Why would they think I was gay? Fuck, did Derek say something. Was I the fucking mark? I'm going to kill Derek."

My mind was scrambled. I left the table, confused as all hell.

"I gotta go," I said. And it wasn’t an act. I really did need some air. I was prepared for the crying, the anger, whatever. But how can you prepare yourself for this? Parents thinking you are gay for the shallowest of reasons and not telling you! I was trying to out myself and my parents outed me. Whose life was I living?

I was a step from the table when my mom, brother and dad all got up. It was one of those cliché cinematic moments when people "half get up" from a table, put down their napkins, and decide who will follow the distraught person. Derek had the most upended expression, and everyone else backed down.

"Please let this night end," I thought.

"Rob, wait," he said convincingly and he quick-stepped to my side.

He pulled me aside to the bar area, stuck his head out, and started cracking up.

"Dude, what the fuck? Mom and dad just ruined you. They think you are a total fag. I didn’t say anything dude, seriously. Mom and dad think you’re a fag, ha!" He was visibly moved. This could very well go down as the best moment of his sad, little life.

"Did you fucking say something," I said, grabbing my brother by the collar for the first time in about 10 years. I felt like Ryan on the OC Finale.

"No douchebag, seriously," he said ,"chill the fuck out, Rob."

He handed me the keys to his car, but did not let go.

"Take my car to Stratton’s. I’ll catch a ride later. Do not wreck my fucking car, Rob. I know how you fuckers in California drive. Mom gets a heart attack every time we get on the freeway out there. Do not fuck it up."

"It’s dad’s car, dude, I’ve driven it a million times."

"No, it’s Derek’s fucking car, Rob. Dad gave it to my ass when he got a new one. Because Rob is fagging it up in California, and Derek is here, being fucking macho.”

And the keys were mine. And Derek did not shake my hand, but he embraced me. It was an actual hug from Derek. Outing myself had made his life, and he wanted to repay me.

"I’ll get the scoop from mom and dad and meet you there in an hour, get a boothe...fag."

Derek walked away laughing.

"Should I bring Shan?" he asked in mid-stride.

I walked over and hushed him.

"Fuck no, Derek, she can’t know. No one can. I’ve gotta figure this shit out."

And so I left into the Pennsylvania night. Wondering.

Wondering why my parents thought I was gay, before I even said it. Wondering how I was going to get out of this mess. Wondering what was next.

I got in Derek’s car and proceeded to beat the living shit out of it, just like I used to do when it was dad’s ride. With the crisp night air blowing through the window, I felt more alive than I ever have.

"Fuck it," I thought.

I cranked up Prodigal Son and barreled it down. I had to laugh at my life. This shit just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Time to get a beer.

Rob. Out. (finally)


Tips for coming out that Rob Lowe broke
1. Come out somewhere in private to only one person
2. Be sober
3. Don’t plan on doing anything else for the rest of the day
4. Dress comfortably