This post is inspired by/in response to Micifus, who recently came out to his parents.
It was the night before my 19th birthday, the first week in August. I was head over heels over my first boyfriend, and after about six weeks, I was just starting to get clingy as a reaction to my anxieties over college. I had pretty successfully severed most ties with my high school friends though various things I said, and thankfully he was around to fill my time (and my various orifices).
He had an event already planned for the night of my birthday, hosting a MoveOn event at a bar downtown. I understood, but kind of guilted him into letting me spend the night so we could ‘celebrate’ that morning.
It’s always awkward the summer between high school and college, where students of unsure of how much freedom they really have, and parents don’t know what to discipline and what to turn a blind eye towards.
I went out to my car to head over to his place around 7 for a late dinner and an extended night of ‘merriment,’ only to find that my car wouldn’t start. My car was older than I was, and had been on its last legs ever since I hit puberty. I asked my mom if I could use her car, and she let me. She then asked if I could use her car, and she let me. She asked what time I would be back, and I said “Tomorrow afternoon. It’ll be a late night of carousing,” causing her to chuckle slightly. My dad said to have fun, and reminded me we had lunch plans with grandparents.
I left, and did things with the boyfriend, and let him do things to me, and finally fell asleep around 2. His blinds weren’t that effective at blocking out the light, and I was up by 7 AM with an overwhelming sense of dread. I couldn’t explain it, but I just knew something was wrong. I made some excuse about leaving early and drove home.
My mom was waiting on the porch, arms crossed, teeth grit.
“Where were you? I missed my morning workout, and I got called into work this morning to sub for someone and I couldn’t accept the hours because I didn’t know where you were.”
I had yet to walk up the stairs. “I told you I wouldn’t be back until later.”
”I thought you were joking. You really screwed up this time. Not only were we worried, but we lost out on money that we could really use right about now, especially with your going to college in three weeks.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that—“
“You’re grounded. You can go inside and call your grandparents and tell them that lunch is off, and make sure to explain to them why your birthday is cancelled. After that, you can help your dad bring your computer to the car. We’re returning your gift because obviously you aren’t responsible enough for your own computer.” I should probably mention that she was just entering menopause. We were inside now, just inside the side door. I still had yet to take off my shoes. My dad walked downstairs and stood in the doorway to the living room, listening in.
“What?! That’s not fair.”
“It’s not fair that I woke up this morning and had to turn down hours at my job and miss my workout because you’re too irresponsible to come home at a normal time. Just what were you doing all night anyway?”
“We went out, and then I slept over at Peter’s.”
“Who’s Peter?”
“My… boyfriend. Peter.” What the hell, they were already planning on grounding me until I left for college and returning my computer. What else could they really do to me?
Her jaw dropped, arms fell from crossed to her sides.
She asked all the normal questions, about being safe and making sure it wasn’t a phase, and who else knew, and blah blah blah. My dad didn’t add anything to the conversation, but he never left the hallway either.
I never did end up calling my grandparents to cancel lunch, and so we went. She ended up talking a lot at lunch, probably to keep her mind on other things other than my sexuality, and hoping to make sure that nothing was divulged to my grandma. I wasn’t going to tell her anyway (I still haven’t).
We got home after lunch, and I went and told my sisters, who were in their room watching tv. One sister already knew—one of my friend’s younger brother is friends with her, and somehow she already found out, and my youngest sister was surprised, but said it made sense. Which I now realize is much more fraught with meaning than I thought at the time.
After lunch, my mom spent the afternoon online on pflag.org, and my dad spent it cleaning out the attic. Around dinnertime she emerged from the office, gave me a hug, and became much more supportive, and even now she’s supportive, probably too much so, asking about my relationships and clarifications of terms she heard on “Will and Grace” or “Queer Eye” or the half-episode of “Queer as Folk” she watched.
My dad doesn’t really talk about it, and even now talks about it in the abstract, like how’s he’s glad I transferred schools after freshman year to a larger, more liberal university.
Oh, and they forgot about grounding me, and I got to keep my computer, and I was able to sleep over at Peter’s for the rest of the summer, and we got to do many, many things to each other.
