That other story I told you about.....

Sorry I haven't updated in a day or two, but I wanted to get this story just right. So first a little bit of explanation...

My parents split up and eventually divorced when I was 11. So since that time I have had two homes, not anything new to most of you I know. When I was a kid, growing up in a small town in NZ, however, it was fairly uncommon. Anyways, like I said earlier, things slotted into place for me when I was 15, though I did not come out fully until I was 22.

I "Came Out" to my mum fairly early on. Didn't have much of a choice really. I was 16 and enjoying a very nice afterschool session with my boyfriend at the time. Now, my mum is a teacher, and usually she wouldn't get home for hours after school. So I usually had that time to myself, for doing whatever. However, this afternoon, mum wasn't particularly well and so decided to come home early.

Worried that I was not well, from the odd noises emanating from my bedroom, she came in to see if I was ok. I can tell you that having your mum walk in on you with your legs in the air, being pounded by your boyfriend, is not the most comfortable of experiences. Before I could say anything, she slammed the door, and went to her room, I knew that because I heard her door slam. Suffice it to say, my boyfriend beat a hasty retreat. I cleaned up and got dressed and knocked on my mum's door, but she said that she didn't want to talk at that moment.

So I went and made dinner, as I usually did, mum was a terrible cook. Anyways she comes out from her room when I call that dinner is ready. I can see that she has been crying, but she sits down. Dinner was a little awkward at first, but after awhile she said, "A lot of things make sense now", and then we talked it through. In the end I apologised for the way she found out, which made her cry again. Then I made her a cup of tea, and we talked some more. She was more accepting than I had given her credit for, I must admit.

My dad however was a different story..., I didn't tell him until I was twenty two. My stepmother knew, dad had gotten remarried when I was 15. My stepmother is an incredible judge of character, and very astute in reading people. I remember one morning before I went to school, she said to me over the breakfast table, "Are you gay?". I almost choked on my cornflakes!! So for years she knew before my dad. Little did I know that she hadn't kept my secret.

Now then, my dad. I love my dad dearly, he is the only man I truelly trust. And I know that I can go to him for anything. My dad drives trucks for a living, loves country music, dresses badly, restores vintage tractors...., need I go on? I am sure you can see how I could be hesitant in telling him that his baby boy was a raging homo. Still again I didn't know that my stepmother had already told him. He never brought it up in conversation with me, even though he had ample opportunity. He was simply waiting for me to be honest with him. I think he would have waited for ever...., I love my dad!

So, one afternoon whe I was 22, while I was up for Christmas (I live in a different city), my dad and I were in the shed. Kiwi blokes are very particular about their sheds, mans domain and all! So we are having a beer together, I had purchased a dozen Grolsch for the occasion. I let it all spill out. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I got. He just smiled and said "You are my son, I love you..., if this is what makes you happy, then so be it" and handed me another beer. I guess he had had a while to get used to the idea.

Now I am not the flamboyant type pf gay man. I don't advertise, or shout from the rooftops, but I certainly don't hide it either. Best way to be in my opinion, though I certainly remember all the stress of keeping the secret.