Asexual with the 'Rents
I used to be totally, 100%, unabashedly honest about my life with my parents. I would tell them everything I did, everywhere I went, and everything I thought (well, almost everything… there was that whole being in the closet thing). My younger brother was always afraid to tell my parents about things like having tried pot, or having sex. Not me though, I was always willing to share. And it was a good thing – cathartic in a way, and also indicative of the open and honest relationship we have.
Since coming out, however, I’ve found myself leaving out a lot of details. “What did you do this weekend?” they’ll ask. I’ll tell them about the movie I saw with my friends from college, or the bar we went to afterwards, but I’ll leave out how the next night I went to a gay dance party. It’s not that I think they’d be horrified, I just feel uncomfortable telling them about gay things.
A few times I’ve made the mistake of telling my mom that I went on a date. There will be a pause, then she’ll awkwardly ask “What was his name?” I suppose I should be grateful that she’s asking, but I can tell from her inflection how desperately she’s trying to mask her discomfort. And then, the next time we talk, she’ll say “How is your friend? Have you seen what’s his name again?” The whole thing is just so weird, and as a result, I’ve decided that until I’m actually dating someone, I’m just not going to bring it up.
That’s with my mom though, with my dad, we just avoid the subject altogether. We talk on the phone about once a week, but since moving to DC in May, other than telling him that I volunteered at the HRC dinner (of course I had to explain what the HRC is), I haven’t broached a single gay topic of conversation. I assume that he hears little tidbits from my mom, but he never brings anything up either.
All this leaves me pretty much asexual to my parents. Not that I was a dating machine back when I was pretending to be straight, but when something did come up, I would promptly tell them about it. I guess I’m worried that my relationship with them has changed. And oddly enough, since being honest about my sexuality with them, I’ve become less honest about my day-to-day life.
While omitting key components in my weekend recap is annoying, it’s not the worst part. The worst part is not being able to share the ups and downs with my parents. Stephanie wrote about something similar very poignantly back in May. Sometimes I need the comfort and support from my parents, but when this aspect of my life is more or less off-limits, I’m left to cope on my own. It’s sad.
I suppose a great deal of this is attributable to the adjustment phase, and that realistically, it’s going to take more than a few months before I (and my ‘rents) feel comfortable talking about gay things.
P.S. My parents look (thank God!) nothing like the people in this painting, but it just fit.
7 comments:
This is decidedly similar to my situation with my parents, who are Mormon. I'm out to both of them, but never discuss my sexuality with my father, and only infrequently and uncomfortably do so with my mother, and with both, I definitely leave out details of my weeks. Interestingly, other conversations aren't awkward, and I feel like I can make small talk as well as ever. It's not about my love life.
i don't think this is unique to queer people or our postmodern experience. dealing with changing social and sexual mores from generation to generation has always been a struggle.
you don't want to tell your mom you put your ass in the air before you fall in love. your mom didn't want to tell her dad she gave your father a hand-job before they were married. it's kinda the same.
you and your parents have to decide if you want to be close enough to step over these generational hurdles and understand each other. do you want your mom and dad giving you their opinion on how to live your life or do you want to do it yourself? one's no better than the other, just depends on how much you and your parents like each other as adults, not on how much you remember liking your parents as the doting, unconditional-love-bots they were when you were growing up.
just keep in mind that transitioning from love-bot parents to people parents will involve some friction.
Her discomfort or yours? If you approach things with unease and lack of confidence, others will respond very much the same way.
Think about why you think it's a mistake to tell your mom you went on a date. From what you've written, you were never reticent before, so why now? Once you start censoring yourself, you're slowly cutting them out of your life.
I should have added the time factor. If you haven't been out that long, there will inevitably be some need to adjust. Just as you had time to adjust to being gay before coming out, so your parents have only had time to adjust after; you have a head start on them. The later someone comes out, the more difficult it is for everyone to re-adjust, and re-affirm old relationships. So moving gingerly forward is fine at first, as long as you're moving forward.
I don't mean to discount your discomfort, but I actually really felt for your mom after reading this. I spent most of my twenties keeping a lot of my personal life from my parents, and looking back it wasn't because they were resistant or uncomfortable, it was my own discomfort. I wish I had been more open and shared more with them -- they just wanted to know how I was doing and to know if I was happy.
I know my parents are uncomfortable with it, and I relish every legitimate opportunity I have to bring up and discuss "gay" things ;)
My parents meet while in high school, and married right after. I dated a different guy every week, not counting random hook ups and the occasional orgy, from ages 19 to 30. So yeah, no, my dating/sexual life I kept to myself, because they simply did not have a way to relate with that. And that is ok.
While I'm glad that, after a somewhat long adjustment period, now I have my parents support in general, I don't feel like I need their support in every particular. And in the same way, I know that my parents know that I love them and I'm there for them, even if we seriously disagree on some things.
It was when we stopped trying to be always on the same page that we learned to relate to each other as people, not as just extensions of each other.
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