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another question i was asked on the panel was about my family.
the usual stuff: do they know? how did you tell them? how did they take it?
being the good, no, great panelist that i am, i addressed each question with poise, thought, and honesty. my answers oozed with consideration and thoroughness. i was the picture of hard-hitting yet poignant answering.
"yes. over the phone. good, i guess."
[insert rim shot]
but see, i didn't want the group to know. i didn't want them to see what i had done.
i didn't want them to know i had created a monster. a rabid, indiscriminate beast.
i had created the makings of a pflag mom.
madre superior, as i like to call her, is the only family member that i know knows what i have known since birth - brett is a faggot. do i think other fam knows? of course, but these speculations have been neither confirmed nor denied, as is our white, anglo-saxon, middle-class, catholic-yet-still-pseudo-prostestant-enough-to-be-cold way. my sexuality is in the same file as the loveless marriages, drinking problems, and mental illnesses; we're all going to talk about it, but only in hushed whispers over a 3-olive martini at bridge... "i'm not one to talk, but i was over there last night, and brett-ryan was steaming the drapes again. he insists that flavia half-asses it, and i insist that his parents start planning for adopted, cambodian grandchildren."
i did tell my mom over the phone, but it wasn't one of those hallmark channel movie moments. i never actually said the words. there was no, "mom, i'm gay" or "ma, i like other guys." or "yep, up the pooter." no, none of that. there were no tears, no awkward silences, no shouted derision. it was the first day of the year. i thought i was losing the man i loved, and i needed to talk to my mom.
madre: "well, bug, it sounds like this is a pretty important friendship to you. how long have you two been friends?"
moi: "just over 7 months. 221 days."
madre: "you know how many days you've known him?"
moi: "of course. i always do. i count days."
madre: "i guess he's more than a friend."
moi: "bingo."
...and that was it. life continued on as if nothing had changed.
until recently.
now, all of a sudden, my mom is so cool with the gays. she's dropping it into conversation left and right, and not in that weird affirmation sort of way. it's not like she's trying to show me that she still loves me or anything like that. it's like... too normal. she now kids me about the gay thing the same way she does about my weight or my job or really anything. "gay" has just become one more target for her criticism, guilt-tripping, and joking.
on how i'm going to pay for law school:
moi: "well, you rarely pay exactly what they say you will, and i'll probably just get loans for the rest."
madre: "isn't that an awful lot of money to borrow? couldn't you get some sort of lifestyle support?"
moi: "what? lifestyle support? what the hell are you talking about you crazy woman?"
madre: "i mean, isn't there anyone up there that would hate to see a cute, young man pay for law school? you know, someone older who'd maybe like to see you get educated."
moi: "mooooooooom, are you trying to pimp me out for tuition? i don't need a sugar daddy." (though in all honesty, i do)
madre: "i'm just saying. it's certainly more fiscally responsible than getting loans."
the woman has lost it.
on the prospect of grandchildren:
madre: "humph."
moi: "what?"
madre: "oh, nothing. huuuuuummmph."
moi: "really, ma. what?"
madre: "humph, oh, i was just realizing all those wonderful genes we gave you will never be in my grandchildren."
for real! she's whacked.
on my social life:
madre: "so have you made any new friends?"
moi: "new friends? i barely have a social life... unless it's in my inbox, i don't interact with it."
madre: "you're boring. i'm done living vicariously through you."
moi: "sorry, i don't live up to your social standards. what'd you expect? 'oh, yesterday, while i was climbing kilimanjaro, i met the nicest sherpa."
madre: "brett, i don't think they call them sherpas in africa, but regardless, i don't know. just something... not this 'came home from work and cooked dinner' ilk."
moi: "well, that's my life."
madre: "you should go dancing more. with your shirt off."
girl has done broke her head.
on my being single:
madre: "you seeing anyone?"
moi: "no. you?"
madre: "just your dad still."
moi: "so he still doesn't know then?"
madre: "know what?"
moi: "that you're crazy."
madre: "ha! at least i'm not well down the road to becoming a cat lady... oh, i'm sorry, small dog lady."
crazy-ass bitch!
yep, i have a "it's okay to be gay" mom.
and it's slowly killing me.
posted by brett @ 12:59 PM
7 Comments:
I WOULD KILL FOR MY MOM TO BE THAT!!!!!
thank the effin lord she can still occupy her time with you...that gives me a little more time to get my act together before she pounces!
wanna swap moms? we could do a reality show. it'd be fun.
I think my mom will die of a heart attack the day I bring a guy home to meet here.
Of course I think I might die of a heart attack the day I actually find a guy to take home to meet my mother.
I found your blog on Ben's blog which he hasn't actually posted anything in yet.
You need to come to NYC because you crack my shit up. For reals. Your mom sounds like my mom, even though I'm not gay she says wacked out stuff like that ALL THE TIME.
It's the Catholics.
so do you want to trade? I would love to TALK with my mom. We don't even talk AT ALL! And, that is probably because my mom really is a crazy ass bitch. She even knows my web address, and probably reads the crap I write about my F'ed up childhood on my blog. So sad... but just more material for my book, right?!
so do you want to trade? I would love to TALK with my mom. We don't even talk AT ALL! And, that is probably because my mom really is a crazy ass bitch. She even knows my web address, and probably reads the crap I write about my F'ed up childhood on my blog. So sad... but just more material for my book, right?!
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