Family can be both an atavistic well of support and a fountain of crushing discontent. For years I’ve managed to skate a delicate edge with those dear to me regarding who I am. This has in my opinion prematurely aged me a tad and caused me to grow tired and frustrated.
No one in my family has really ever given me shit for being queer. While I’ve heard some less than enlightened perspectives, for the most part it’s pretty tame. I know most of the time that I think about it more than they did or do. Still, it frustrates me when they refer to my boyfriend as my ‘friend’ as if the words boyfriend or lover are anathema.
Still, I don’t generally run into any issues. It’s just subtle things that give me pause more than anything. Cause me to perhaps wonder if I’m ‘being in everyone’s face’ with it or something.
I’ve been told I’m ‘just confused’ more times than I care to recall. I’m thirty-three years old. I don’t feel funny, odd or confused. I feel like a guy who knows what he likes and doesn’t feel like he needs to prove anything to anyone.
That said, life is pretty good. Its just a bit of culture shock for my family because they have not known a great deal of not straight people in their time. I know they don’t love me any less. I wish I could just put them at ease and make them realize its still the same person they’ve always known.
Maybe it’s all in my head. I try to consider all possibilities. Because I dated girls for years perhaps it threw them for a loop. Whatevs. It’s all good. I love ’em.