Get Out!

There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to sit his parents down and tell them that he is gay-

Unless of course he happens to be straight-

Which I am not-

So what I’m trying to say is that I had to sit my parents down and tell them that I’m gay-
Because I’m gay.

Ok, I’m glad that I straightened that out.

Considering my current mental state I feel that I should warn you, it is highly likely that this story will be completely incoherent. So if you intend to read on might I suggest a comfortable chair and a bottle of vodka to wash down the out of date prescription painkillers that will be necessary to complete the arduous task of sifting though the scattered contents of my brain.

I’ve been avoiding the awkward coming out conversation for a while now. In actual terms: a while = 6 years. My family has always been a magnet for melodrama, much like the unfortunate Salinger family from 90’s TV classic ‘Party of Five’ who just couldn’t seem to last one week without someone getting pregnant out of wedlock or careering their car through a crowd of innocent bystanders while driving drunk because they needed to drink away the pain caused by discovering that their sibling has a terminal illness - needless to say, I always found it easy to convince myself that it was in the best interest of my family to postpone coming out until the current melodrama had settled down. Fortunately the last six years have been very unsettled. Every time things looked like they were settling down another family drama would arise just as I began to seriously consider coming out.

Then on Saturday morning I suddenly realised, my family wasn’t in the midst of turmoil, and after all these years of always having the perfect excuse to stay in the closet I couldn’t think of any legitimate reasons to hide the truth anymore. Shortly after making this realisation I seriously contemplated setting fire to the house, one last drama to delay the inevitable, but then I thought about all the clothes in my wardrobe that I would be sacrificing and I just couldn’t do it.

All the turmoil associated with my sisters wedding had died down and my parents had stopped having constant conversations about guest lists, the cost of sugared almonds and the frightening possibility of a bloody- no holds barred- knife fight breaking out between my Nonna and Nanna at the reception. In the wake of the wedding my family actually seemed to have become closer, we were all voluntarily spending more time together, my sister and her new husband seemed blissfully happy, my parents were proud of us all, and I was starting to forgive my brother for behaving like an insensitive redneck while we were in America. So if ever there was a time when they could deal with my announcement this would be it.

I was having an impromptu breakfast with Mona, my best friend and partner in insanity. While I attempted to eat a bland deep fried orange substance that was imitating the hash browns I had ordered we discussed coming out to my family- it was the same conversation we had been having for the past 5 years but today it felt different, instead of having butterflies in my stomach it felt like there was an ecstasy fuelled rave going on in there. I returned home to find mum sitting at the kitchen bench, I made an extra strong cup of coffee and drank half the cup in my first gulp, I was hoping to scald and drown the ravers still partying in my stomach.
As I sat down across from her I wondered if in some way she could predict what was coming, or would my announcement be a complete surprise. We talked for an hour about the usual stuff, my brother and sisters lives, Nonna’s health problems, and peace in the Middle East. I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t be able to do it, the prospect of chickening out seemed like a great idea. Then I made a comment about how despite the fact that I’m 23 years old I still feel like a kid. Mum innocently asked,

‘Do you feel like that because you don’t have a partner?’

I answered, ‘Yeah, partly’.

My brain began to race, I was not concerned with the actual question, and rather I was fixated on her use of the word partner. Why didn’t she say girlfriend? Did she already know that I was gay? Is this her way of letting me know that she is ok with me being gay? Was I reading too much into everything? There was an awkward silence.

I opened my mouth to speak buy nothing came out- pardon the horrible pun.

I tried again, this time I managed three words.

‘Mum. I’m gay.’

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she hugged me- she didn’t want me to see her cry.

I had always imagined that in this moment I would be crying uncontrollably, I wasn’t. I was very calm and still, I can remember thinking to myself, ‘You should be crying right now.’
The conversation that followed was as I expected it to be, Mum really wanted me to know that she loved me. She had suspected on occasion that I might be gay but never given it any real thought because she didn’t want it to be true. She said that she would never have chosen this life for me and went on to say that it was going to take her some time to adjust. I could tell that she was devastated and even a little bit scared, but everything she did and said showed that she was trying to make the situation easy for me. Just as mum stopped crying my sister arrived for a surprise visit. Good timing sis.

I had already told my brother that I was gay shortly before we went overseas. He took it well, but considering his visible discomfort upon hearing the word ‘gay’ I don’t think he’ll be attending Mardi Gras anytime soon. So now I was faced with the less than exciting task of giving the ‘Guess what? I’m Gay!’ speech to my sister, then I would have to perform a final encore for my father later on. I was tired just thinking about it, however, in another brilliantly timed entrance, my father walked through the door.

SCENE 2: KITCHEN CONVERSATION INTERIOR - KITCHEN

Four family members sit around the kitchen bench. The mother has obviously just been crying. The (devastatingly handsome) son sits silently his gaze fixed on a blank wall to his right. The father sits opposite his wife and son- looking confused, he realises something is amiss. The daughter rambles on unaware of any disturbance.

DAUGHTER: (Speaks quickly) We had such a good time. We were so happy to see everyone there, it seemed like everyone had a really good time. I hope everyone had a good time. Did everyone tell you they had a good time?

FATHER: …

MOTHER: Ok. (Sombre tone) Sorry to interrupt, but while you are both here Michael and I, I mean Michael, has something he wants to tell you.

SON: Ok. Well. This is hard to say. (Pause) I’ve been adopted by Angelina Jolie.

I’m not making it up. That is exactly what happened. Mum had given me a none to subtle push, much like Elaine used to shove Seinfeld as she barked the words, ‘Get out!’. I knew she wanted me to tell them I was gay, but I just thought I’d lighten the mood a little; she didn’t appreciate my comic timing. Abandoning what I thought was a hilarious joke I went on to tell Dad and my sister that I’m gay, they reacted similarly to my mother. I went back into a state of shock and let them say all the things they needed to, interrupting occasionally to remind them that I was still the same person, I wanted them to know that everything they knew about me was still true, and I had not been harbouring a secret gay personality they were unaware of. I was not about to come to dinner wearing a full face of makeup and a miniskirt- although I do have great legs for it.

Since coming out my whole family has been fantastic, constantly making an effort to show their love and support for me. I have to consider myself lucky, though they are watching me a little more closely these days and I often see sadness in their eyes I know that through it all they are trying to do the right thing by me, and that is a great feeling. Now all I have to do is endure thousands of questions and awkward conversations without getting too defensive.
On Sunday morning Mum named practically every one of my friends and asked if they were gay and Dad decided to raise the topic of AIDS over breakfast. I just reminded myself that it’s going to take some time for them to adjust and get all those questions and conversations out of their system. After all- they are trying to do the right thing and its ok, I can get used to having vodka and orange juice with my toast.

Congratulations, you made it to the end of this massive post.

Here is a completely unrelated photo of me in New York. I was sad because my coffee was empty.

It was a really good coffee.