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 \ud83d\ude42<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
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<\/i> was coming out to my mother. See this post from a year ago<\/a> 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. The conversation that I had with my Mom on the day after I first introduced her to the man who has been my partner since 1993 and I later married (when we legally could) — that caught my Mom in such a way that she didn’t know how to respond. I think it was the first time ever in my life that she was speechless.<\/p>\n It began like this,<\/p>\n Mom: “you seemed to be very fond of your friend.” I don’t remember much more of that conversation, other than reaching, stretching, groping for words that wouldn’t come. I so never wanted to disappoint my mother, but at the same time, I never would lie to her either. It would have been easy to make up some story, but I couldn’t live with myself by lying — both to myself and my Mom.<\/p>\n That’s how I “came out.” I never sat her down and said those words, “Mom, I’m gay.” But when you tell her that you are dating a man, it’s not hard to figure out!<\/p>\n What I credit my Mom with are two huge things–<\/p>\n * She continued to speak to me. She didn’t shut me out, refuse to let me come to visit, or reject me. Yes, I was tentative or fearful to visit after I first made it clear that I was gay, but I didn’t look for excuses not to visit, either. We both made a commitment to continue to keep the in-person dialogue open and ongoing. Bless her; I have read and heard so many personal horror stories from gay men whose parents flat-out disowned them. In my case, that never happened, nor did my Mom ever consider such a thing.<\/p>\n * She asked people she trusted lots of questions. The conversation began with my oldest sister, who gave her information from a nascent organization that has subsequently become known as “PFLAG” (Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays). She asked my twin brother, whose response was, “heck, Mom, I knew he was gay before he did. So what, he’s still the same guy!” (I am truly fortunate that ALL of my siblings remain close. Yes, a few “blinked” when they found out, and they went through a similar “learning curve” as my Mom did.)<\/p>\n My Mom always had an open mind and remained a life-long learner. She asked thousands of questions. She sought answers. She called huge federal agencies, small non-profits — lots of people. She pursued learning more so she would know more about a side of her son that she didn’t know before.<\/p>\n As I began this post, I never wanted to be anything other than straight. I didn’t know until much later in life that I was gay although I am convinced that I was born gay and just didn’t come to full acknowledgment or realization that I was gay until much later in life. I celebrate that my partner\/fiance and I met when we did, and we’ve been happily living as united souls thereafter.<\/p>\n Today my Mom would have been 95 years old, if she were still living. However, she remains alive in my heart, my family’s hearts, and my fiance’s heart. I am very pleased that my Mom and my fiance learned to love one another before she died — so she can tell my Dad that all of her children are in stable, happy relationships with a partner who loves, protects, and cherishes their children.<\/p>\n Life is short: thanking my Mom for her enduring love.<\/p>\n Addendum: some of you who are newer to this blog may not know that my Dad died when I was 12, thus by the time I figured out in my adult life that I was gay, the only parent I had to “come out” to was my Mom.<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" 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 … Continue reading
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\nYou would think, being the 14th kid of 15 in the family, that my Mom had “seen it all.” She pretty much had seen everything. Not a thing a kid could do or say that would cause her to be caught off-guard. Until….<\/p>\n
\nMe: “Yes, he’s a great guy.”
\nMom: “do you double date?” (expecting or hoping, once again, that I was dating women. Any woman, but a woman not a man.)
\nMe: “Mom, you can say that we are dating each other.”<\/p>\n