As I was growing up, I was among the youngest in a large family. I saw my older brothers and sisters date and then marry a woman or a man, then start a family. I saw all of my cousins — all 179 of them — do that too. Yeah, as I said, I have a LARGE family. We occupy a small country to the east of … well, there I go again, digressing on yet another tangent 🙂

I grew up expecting that I was straight. I never wanted to be anything other than straight. I had no reason to expect that I wasn’t straight. My admiration of boys my age were of respect of those who were much more athletically inclined (like my twin brother) or their boots. Honestly, that was it. I took a liking to boots on guys a long, long time ago. But I had no idea — no fathom of a thought — that I could or would like men in the way that straight guys like women.

But I finally figured it out, and have explained that process on this blog in many posts over years. But the hardest part after coming out to myself was coming out to my mother. See this post from a year ago about how my Mom learned to accept and continue to love me, regardless of my sexual orientation. This post is about how I “came out” to her.
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My great nephew who I helped buy boots to wear to high school this year is not the only great nephew I have who likes to wear boots. I have a number of great nieces and nephews — children of my 59 nieces and nephews. (I told ‘ya that I had a large family!)

Here’s one of my highly talented GN’s performing at a club in boots.
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Frequently, I am one who describes to others that what we see on television or view on the internet about what people do in daily life is often exaggerated or sometimes blatantly false. But one can’t help but feel influenced by what he sees, such as couples going out for a night on the town for dinner and dancing, or guys my age using smartphones, eating lunch “out” every work day, having drinks with “the guys” after work, relaxing with a glass of wine with my partner after a long day, or staying awake at night until 11pm, yet rising to go to the gym early, changing to shirt/tie/dress shoes, then going to work and having coffee along the way — while swiping plastic for almost every transaction.

I recently explained to my sister, “I feel so strange… I don’t do any of that. My partner and I don’t eat out, we don’t have or want a smartphone, we go to bed by 8:30pm seven nights a week, I’m too cheap to pay for a gym membership, and I hate to dress up, dance, or wear shoes. I make our lunches to take to work, I don’t drink coffee or alcohol, I pay cash during our weekly grocery store visits and for most everything else, cook meals at home every day, I don’t send or receive text messages… honestly, I’m weird.”

To that, my sister said…
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Just a quick post to show that not all of my cousins are straight guys who wear flip-flops and shorts to church.

Man, if I were two decades younger, not in a monogamous relationship, and not related, I’d chase this guy. Here he is, participating in an LGBT swimming fundraiser in New York.

Woof! Go cuz, go!

I have to say, though, that I have seen pictures of him on his Facebook page where he is wearing flip-flops while attending a social gathering. So I STILL have work to do on all of my family members, gay or straight! (Remember: boots are preferred footwear; sneakers are okay in a gym, and the only place for flip-flops is in the trash.)

Life is short: love your family.

This photo is of a group of some of my male cousins who were lining up, holding their children, before going into church. Arrgggh!

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