Daddy and me

I was coming home from another fabulous night of getting drunk, when the urge to eat suddenly fell upon me, as I stumbled home in the wee hours of the morning. Hunny, I thought about food so hard, I checked my mailbox! I was hoping my food stamps had finally come in. Even if they did, I could’t tell ya what good they would’ve done me at 4am.

I didn’t find my food stamps, but I did see a letter that was addressed to me.

dos

This time the letter was from my dad, though. Honestly, a letter from him was the last thing I ever would’ve expected. Then again, I have been taking my sweet-ass time to call him back, or answer his e-mails… The fact that he used a new form of communication shouldn’t have been a surprise to me.

Whenever my dad contacts me, he usually starts off with something along the lines of “Hello my son, what’s up with you? I don’t hear much from you”. Then, he updates me on what my little brothers have been up to, gives me his judgmental opinion on my brothers’ endeavors; then he asks whether I have heard anything from my rogue older brother, and then he closes his message by telling me I need to stay in touch with my brothers and that I’m a grown man.This most recent letter he sent me contains the same elements as all the ones before. Hunny, however, to my surprise there was some new content in there that makes this letter a pretty juicy one!

I suppose he’s very upset, pissed and maybe even a bit fearful over me, but even through it all, the bitch was still comin’ for me! I’ve never witnessed my dad throw as much shade as he did.

  1. In reference to our family reunion, I was “acting strange for an adult of [my] age who is a college graduate.”
  2. Despite everything I’ve accomplished on my own up to this day, this bitch writes me “I suppose there is not much to look forward to in SC”
  3. He seems like he doesn’t listen very well, or give a flying fuck about anything my brothers and I are interested in. I could tell him “I wanna bake cupcakes for a living” and he would say “That’s great! I know somebody in the department of forensic sciences you could talk to about that”

He may not listen very well, but he sure knows how to take a hint. After 22 years and 8 months he must FINALLY be catching on: “There is no harm to being alone, but add to it strange behavior, your mannerism, painting your nails, and all the other signs you display equals strange, and unusual. This leads me to question you life style and the very essence of your being.”

…That’s not even shade anymore.

I’ve never explicitly addressed to my father that I am, in fact, a homosexual, who enjoys the company of an attractive man who at times presents his penis to me as a form of greeting. No, I’ve never gotten around to that. There was a time when I was ready to come out to my father, after I had returned to Germany, after my first year of college in the US. Obviously, over the course of that one year, I had developed a new understanding and confidence about who I was… as well as how to write an MLA style paper. We were on the Autobahn, headed home from the airport in München, and before I could even share anything with him about my year of discoveries, he took one look at my skinny jeans and painted nails and went ballistic about me not going to amount to anything in life, if I looked the way I did.

This letter was no different. Technically, the man knows nothing until I tell him (or he just finds out that I’m George Clooney’s new slam piece or something). Regardless of whether I tell him or not, it’s hard when someone’s not accepting and very vocal about it, at the same time. Whether with words, violence or legislation, nobody wants to be treated negatively about something that, in my opinion isn’t (or shouldn’t be) affecting the world, our resources, and the environment.

My Father threw a couple scriptures at me from the book of Leviticus and 1 Corinthians that basically tell me to go to hell, and then he ends his rant with “you’re a man my son”

It could’ve been worse, but it’s still hurtful to hear something like that from a parent. Then again, with the life that I’ve lived, why am I surprised?

Thanks for reading!

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