Shiny Happy Parents

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, 1:10 p.m. East Coast Time, Lowe Household.


Madness. Today was already littered with it and I barely stepped out of bed. Coming out to my parents was a foolish thing. I knew that as soon as the words "I'm gay" left my mouth. But today is about being smart. About coming together. About reparations. Without a doubt, today was poised to be the hardest day of my life.

I haven’t felt this level of apprehension towards my parents in a long fucking time. The thought of a mending conversation leaves me breathless and alert. I am a child again, and my mudball just broke the garage window. With each downward step, I am getting closer to the kitchen of accountability.

My relationship with my parents has progressed as one would naturally expect with a 29-year old living away from home. Gone is the dominant parent/respectful child dynamic that shaped much of my youth. As an adult, I am privy to things I never knew as a child. As such, I have become entrenched in the reality that my seemingly perfect parents have faults even deeper than my own. That they have failed in ways that are not readily apparent to anyone who hasn’t failed in the same ways themselves. But now, it is middle school again and I am a reckless school boy, ready for punishment.

“Good Morning,” I said to my mom who was hovering over a sizzling pan by the stove.

“Oh, Rob,” she said, turning to greet. She put her hands on both my cheeks and kissed me. Not monumentally, but enough to let me know the topic of last night was still fresh in her mind.

“I’m making a grilled cheese for your father, would you like one?” She asked.

I didn’t, but I agreed. I knew where this was going.

“Uh, yea sure. Do you have any coffee left?” I said.

My mom checked the carafe, and looked up at me.

“It should still be hot, let me know,” she said.

Ok, I know I was still a bit drunk, but maybe I was wrong about this. Being gay to my parents seems better than being straight. Maybe they wanted a gay kid after all? Yea, I am drunk.

“Where’s Shan?” I asked.

“Justine picked her up, they had to grab some things for Lisa’s shower,” mom said.

I had no fucking idea who Lisa was, but was too lazy to ask.

“Honey, come in, lunch,” my mom sing-songed to the other room.

My dad walked in with the paper, and shot a glance my way.

“Morning, Rob,” he said, in a medium tone. “Maybe we can sneak in 9 today.”

“Uh, sure day, that would be great.”

“Here, sweetheart,” mom said, handing me my sandwich, “Let’s sit down.”

We all sat down at the table. We talked and laughed a bit. It was a ten-minute long warm-up for an audience of one. As good as it felt to dance around the topic, we all knew the music would soon stop, and we'd be forced to find a chair. It did, and it it's place a long, uncomfortable silence fell upon the room.

“About last night,” my father finally said, breaking the silence. Only later did I discover the true irony of his word choice.

“Your mother and I have been doing some talking-“ he said.

My mom interrupted. She was eager to be heard. This is shaping up to be a much more typical family discussion than it had initially appeared.

“We want you to be happy,” she said, “We just want you to make smart choices. To be careful. To really give this some thought, and make sure this is not a phase.”

“Rob, I’m not happy with this. Last night, I got pissed. It seemed unfair to me,” my dad said, “but talking to your sister and mom, we figured that your sex life didn’t really define our relationship before, so we shouldn't let it now. This won't be easy, and God knows it's not my first choice for you, but what are you going to do?”

Ok, my parents seem to have real feelings. What's going on in here?

“Rob, maybe this is an identity crisis,” my mother added, “do you like girls still in that way?”

“I mean, I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said.

“Well, maybe you are confused. That’s bi-sexual, if you are attracted to both sexes. Do you think maybe that you are bi-sexual, Rob?” my dad closed.

I could see where my parents were leading with this conversation. Now, it was all making sense. Aliens didn't really take my parents, they have just gotten better at spinning game in their old age.

My parents have crystalized their plan, and have given me an "out" for my outing. Bi is bad, but gay is worse. If they could educate me on bi-sexuality, then convince me that I fell in that category, then I was just a stone’s throw from the straight path. In their warped reality, they thought it was easier to take one rather than two steps to straightness. And I was just the type of son to enable their skewed outlook. Their plan became my plan.

“Mom, dad, can we talk about this in a while? I need to make a quick call.”

“Sure honey, take your time. We’ll be here.”

I went upstairs, shut the door and dialed Tracy.

“I think my parents just game me an out," I said. "Help me make it work."