Being Gay Sucks
Current Music Selection: DJ Sammy
Current State: Flying the V
Current Mood: Somewhat sad
So I went to dinner with my older brother tonight. My first mistake was showing up sober. Why did I think it would be different this time? It?s been ten years since he found out I was gay. How much fucking time does he need to accept who I am?
So I?m from a religious family. So my lifestyle is one long sin and I have an open reservation into the seventh layer of hell. Do I really need him to lecture me on morals and righteous living? He?s working on his third marriage and I?m morally deficient.
While he?s telling me how promiscuous ?my kind? behaves, he?s flirting with the waitress. And she couldn?t have been more than eighteen. Maybe the left should re-evaluate their belief systems.
And he says I broke our mother?s heart. I?m pretty sure her expectations and desires didn?t include having three daughter-in-laws or three grandchildren by two different mothers. Fuck, she should be happy she got grandkids at all after all the lectures she drilled into our heads about the dangers of sex.
I remember the last time I was in the same room as my parents; I was surrounded by a group of ?concerned? family friends who decided I need a prayer circle to cleanse me of my sinful ways. Believe me when I say that no amount of chanting or yelling will ever cure my desire to suck cock. It?s bred into me on a very basic level. You know, genetically.
My mother calls me periodically to guilt me into becoming straight. Or to read me passages of scripture that describes in disturbing detail what awaits in the afterlife for people like me.
Thanks to her, I now know that people like me are a bunch of pedophiles, drug addicts, and sex offenders that only end up in jail or dead from sexually transmitted diseases. Looking on my life, I figure I?m doing all right. I only have two of those problems at the moment. But then I?m still young yet.
I remember a few years ago, my mother drove from the Valley to San Francisco to see me. She called me at seven AM and wanted to go to breakfast. She kept saying how much she missed our relationship and wanted to mend the fences so to speak. After I kicked out the boy I picked up the night before and hid my drugs, I arranged for her to come pick me up at my apartment.
Much to my surprise, she?s waiting for me in the lobby of my building. So I let her up and as I shower and get rid of the smell of sex, I hope that we can somehow achieve peace between us.
As a child, my family was close. I lost my father shortly after I came out. Well, I never came out so to speak. It was more I got caught in the living room sucking off one of the boys from church. My brother stills claims the shock of finding out his youngest son was a faggot caused the stroke that slowly took his life. Maybe that?s the reason my mother hates me so, I killed her husband.
During breakfast, my mother apologized for the way she had been behaving and asked my forgiveness. I was shocked. There was a god and he answered my prayers. We cried and for a moment, I felt like I was complete again. I might not have my mother?s approval or understanding but I knew I had her unconditional love and support. For those two hours, my life was perfect.
Her words, I still remember so clearly. ?I want you to know everything I did, everything I?ll do, is always with your best interest. I love you Jason, don?t ever forget that.?
Those words accompanied me back to my apartment. But the illusion of those words were shattered when I opened the door and saw my childhood minister and three imposing men waiting for me in my living room. Again, my mistake in trusting my mother.
I escaped conditioning only because I was over eighteen and legally they could not take me against my will. That was the last time I saw my mother. But sadly, that was not the last I heard from my mother.
While I was in the shower washing away the sex, my mother was busy putting little post-it-notes around my apartment. In my dresser, under my sheets, in the pockets of all my shirts, my desk, my kitchen cabinets, anywhere you could possibly think of posting a note, she posted. Each note with a different scripture verse and corresponding reason why I should stop being gay. Family.
My brother and I really have nothing in common. He?s straight and like all straight people, he has an agenda. To alter anyone like me into his ?Normal? behavior. To keep people like me from ever marrying or enjoying the same freedoms.
My first mistake was arriving sober. My last mistake was allowing him to make me feel bad about being gay. Sometimes I hate my life and wish I were never born this way. Sometimes I hate being gay. That sometime is today. I hate being gay. I hate the way it makes me feel. I hate the way I can?t have a relationship with my family. I hate the fact I can?t change it. I hate the fact that I?ve become everything I hate about gay people. I hate the fact that I?ve written these words. Today I hate everything.
No wonder I think about letting the pain slide. No wonder I think about letting the pain slide. I wonder when I?ll let the pain slide.
Dark thoughts from me tonight. I?m sorry but I?m a bit depressed and I don?t feel like typing anything else. Cheers and tears.