The Day I Came Out To My Parents

I’ve never felt like I do right now; like I’ve been told I can’t keep doing what I’m doing anymore. Like I need to turn myself in.

It’s not quite the same level as an alcoholic or a fugitive coming to terms with what must be done – but to me; it feels just as terrifying.

I look at my parents. One last time. As two separate people.

One: the youngest and only son they have – quiet and unassuming; a boy who has dated girls, had one serious relationship but over the last two years has not shown any further interest in women. A son they have high hopes for to one day meet a nice girl, have children and to be a good father.

The other: a young man who has spent the last two years learning himself – dating men, sneaking out to meet different men and now living in a long term relationship with a man whom the alternate life perceives to his parents as “just a flatmate”.

My sister is sitting next to me; ready to hold my hand should I need it. She was the easiest to come out to. Like ripping off a plaster – it was hard at first but after that everything just flowed. She wanted to learn more of this life of mine she had missed out on because I was too cowardly to let her know it. I wasn’t so sure my parents would be the same.

Being the only son makes it ten times worse – you are expected to carry on the family name. I would still like to do that, some way, some how. I just don’t want to break some poor woman’s heart by getting her knocked up for the sole purpose of producing an heir. I don’t and could never love her like she might love me. That’s partly why I became a sperm donor – but that’s another story.

Add that to the fact that one of my best friends came out in high school and the kind of stuff my dad had said during the whole thing didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Hell the worst of it all was that one long-term relationship of a girlfriend ending in heartbreak when she left me for a woman from work. Back then my Dad would keep it real by consoling me with pep talks like “she was just funny in the pants, you don’t need her”. Now I was joining the team. The funny pants team.

So it comes to this. No more lying and sneaking. All the guilt, will it go away?

I wondered how much should I say? Should I tell them the times I had said I was going to a party up north with my workmates were actually weekends spent with a guy I was seeing in my early days? Or how a trip down to the south island to meet up with an old friend who had moved to Wellington was actually a secret rendezvous with another older man. This was the life I had led. Leaving parties at midnight in the city to trudge through the rainy night to meet up with a guy I found on the Internet who staying at the Langham on business. My friends thinking I had headed home early to crash, when really it was a booty call.

My life as a secret agent. Somehow I wonder how I have gotten away with it for so long. In the end the lying became second nature. Like I really did have an alternate personality.

But lately since I have settled down with someone it has been harder to keep it so divided. I caught myself openly sharing intimate conversation with my partner on the phone while at my parents house just the other day.

It was then that I knew I had to tell them.

“What are you two doing here? You weren’t supposed to come around till tomorrow?”

Late-notice rescheduling due to my not wanting to miss Lost; yes its pathetic I know.

“Well I needed to tell you guys something”

First baby step completed; a blur has appeared in my vision.

“I have been keeping something from you for a year or so now”

Gathering momentum, the blur is now becoming a humanoid form.

“And I realise now that it’s not something I want to do anymore, I don’t want to live a lie.”

No stopping now, got to do this. The form looks familiar.

“Mum, Dad. I’m gay”

The form is me, I am the form. I am one person. Not two.

“…. “

“…Well I sort of knew it but didn’t want to say.”

That was Dad. Mum just looked on quietly. Her eyes seemed sad to me.

“Really?”

“Yes, you had been dropping some major hints. The sperm donor thing. That time I asked if you might find a nice Canadian girl and you said ‘not likely Dad’”

Oh yea I guess I had.

“I’m sorry. It’s who I am. Sorry I had to be this way..”

They cut me off.

“Don’t apologise. I can’t say I understand it. But you are who you are”.

And there it was. That moment I had been dreading for the last two years was now over.

Don’t get me wrong; it wasn’t all smiles, hugs and tears; more a subdued proclamation of some rather solemn yet truthful news.

I guess in a way I was a little disappointed it wasn’t the same warm welcome my sister had given; but what did I expect? There is generational difference and our relationship is less of equals and more of creator and created.

Coming to terms with your sexuality is an incredibly difficult process. You find yourself questioning your every move and thought. I cannot begin to imagine how it must be for someone raised in a deeply religious community. The guilt of lying to those I loved was enough for me; let alone the guilt of knowing that what you are goes against all that you have been taught is the world and how it works.

I can honestly say I am the happiest I have ever been now. I can’t say it enough. Before I was two people and now I am one again. I guess in a way I could kind of relate to that grief stricken figure we recently saw make a public apology. A figure we once knew as the smug and ever confident Tiger Woods. He had been found out as the two people that he really was and I don’t think he was ready for the two to meet.

If you know someone who is gay that have yet to come out to their family, tell them its ok. Don’t force them to do it but tell them they have your support if they want to do it.

Take it from me. It’s the best decision I have ever made.