no more secrets: my coming out story, part two...

(click for part one)

       it was sunday afternoon. i had a little speech prepared, just a few sentences. my car was packed, coat on, and i had already said goodbye to my grandmother. i went back up to my room to conspicuously make sure i hadn't left anything behind, but really it was to get the little package wrapped in plain brown paper -- and to catch my breath while taking a last look out my window over the snow covered lawn, the poplars draped in white, and the frozen pond. that had always been one of my favorite views, but it wasn't very soothing this time. i knew that it could very possibly be the last time i saw it. i listened to my parents downstairs, dad was patiently explaining something football related to my mom, and hearing their voices made my heart race all the more. i don't remember walking down the stairs. i think it was one of those "i'm not ready but i'm doing it anyway" sort of moments. i stood a little awkwardly at the bottom of the staircase, holding the package and wondering what to do. finally i mustered a "can i talk to you guys?" followed by "i have something else for you."

       i handed the package to my mother and sat beside her on the couch, telling her not to open it yet. dad was on the other couch, reclining, watching the game. he got up, turned off the tv, and returned to his seat. both of them looked at me, wondering, and i forgot how to speak. suddenly my little speech was horribly wrong -- too formal, too long, too lost in the rush of adrenaline. "it's not a christmas present," i said. i didn't want them to be disappointed. heh. struggling for words, i finally just said, "open it."

       my mom opened it, upside down, saw that it was a book, and asked in all seriousness if i had been published and was giving them a copy. i wished that were the case. "no," i said rather awkwardly, "i'm gay."

       my dad went quiet. my mom looked like someone had just punched her. "what?!" she said. and the questions started; not rapid fire, but measured, with processing time between each: hot, sticky, and painful seconds that wouldn't tick by fast enough. "are you sure?" "how do you know?" "are you sure?" "do you have a boyfriend?" "have you had sex?" "you're attracted to men?" "but you dated girls--what about them?" "you were attracted to them, weren't you?" "what about rene? she was cute. or erin?" "who else knows?" "do you go to gay bars?" "are you promiscuous?" "do you believe in the bible?" "what about sodom and gomorrah?" "you know aids is a very real thing, don't you?" "just because you like to bake and act and play music doesn't mean you're gay."

       i was patient, but some of the questions were pretty ridiculous. in some ways i can't really blame them. i'm twenty-six and just now telling them, but i didn't really accept it that long ago either. they were visibly shaken, disbelieving, almost like i was telling them as some plea for attention. to their credit, they were careful. they didn't use the word "sin," though they had to sidestep it a few times, and i didn't see any disgust on their faces. but they did make it clear that they believed it was a choice and not a good one. the talk lasted almost an hour. they promised to try to be open-minded about the materials i had given them, as long as i would be open-minded about any materials they gave me in response. i'm worried about that one. my brother texted me last night, told me mom had told him to watch my facebook, to let her know what my relationship status was, if i had changed my "interested in:" section, and to watch my status updates. i texted her and asked her very politely not to have my brother spy on me but that if she wanted to know something all she had to do was ask, that if i wanted to be dishonest i wouldn't have told them. they're having a family meeting tonight, my parents and my brother and sister-in-law. caleb said he'd tell me how it went.

       so i guess that's not the entire story just yet. it took me over fifteen years to come to terms with it: i'd always known, but didn't want to. it's the least i can do to give them time as well. it wasn't quite the cathartic experience i was hoping for, but it is done. no more secrets. ball's in their court.

qotd: when did you become a foodie?

       got this from here. kind of a lame-ish title for a site, if you ask me. anywho. my love affair with food goes back a very, very long way. probably my first memory of cooking was when i was set to bring snacks one day for my kindergarten class. i had this awesome noah's ark toy boat that came complete with animals that doubled as cookie cutters, so i made sugar cookies (with generous amounts of help from the parentals, i'm sure -- actually, they probably did most of it, but i do remember cutting out the cookies from the dough). damn giraffes were a pain in the neck. but they were so beautiful and i was so proud of them. i loaded up the cookies into the boat (because it also served as a cookie jar) and took them to school (i went to a private school where such things were allowed). but as i was proudly carrying the cookies to mrs. vaughn's desk, somehow i dropped the boat. it was plastic, so it didn't break, but all the cookies inside it did. i was devastated, but we ate them anyway.

       my next food memory would be of my grandparents, when my grandfather was still alive, so before i was nine still. i loved peanut butter. hmm. no, i was obsessed with it. george washington carver was my hero because he invented it [i learned later that he didn't (i can thank the aztecs for that -- hmm... which might explain my fascination with ancient native american culture) but he still came up with 100 or so uses for the peanut]. for my 5th or 6th (or somewhere in there) birthday i requested (and received) a peanut butter cake with raspberry filling. and for one of my birthdays my grampa gave me a whole gallon of natural peanut butter. best. present. ever. now my obsession has since abated, but i still love the stuff. hmm. i think i'll have that for lunch.

       my real passion for food, though, comes from my grandmother. she was the oldest girl of about a dozen children (not really, but there were several of them) and as such often made the meals. she grew up on a farm in the middle of the depression, but they were fairly self-sustaining and didn't really know that the depression was happening. she would use whatever she could to make sure the family was fed, throwing together some very interesting (and very tasty) culinary delights. her love of cooking and her whimsical techniques are definitely what inspired me, and she encouraged me to experiment and find my own method of creating while having fun with it. some of my favorites of her creations include her cottage cheese pancakes, which sound less than appetizing but they were amazing, and her cranberry-orange-nut bread. oh, and her fudges. she'd usually just do a chocolate or peanut butter (mmm!) but they were awesome.

       i guess i'm still mulling over the desire to go to culinary school. thought about going to le cordon bleu in scottsdale, az a couple years ago. now i have the cia after me. culinary institute of america, that is. probably the top culinary school in the nation. it's fun to think about, but i'm not sure i'd like to do that as a career. my year as a confectioner/chocolatier put me off that a little. and that macbeth remake with james mcavoy that was set in a kitchen *shudders*. and i don't have the 100K it takes to put myself through. and i still want to write. and go places. but i love to cook. probably always will. it's very therapeutic for me, and i guess that's another reason why i don't want to make a stressful career of it.

       hmm. i'm hungry now. lunch time. long walk later. bit of a crazy night last night, so i'm looking forward to a long walk to help organize my thoughts. hope you're all having a good one! later taters!

<edit> i just remembered that when i was little i used to love watching a cooking show on pbs and the theme song was harry mancini's "baby elephant walk." i think i loved it just for the theme.   </edit>