Special is as special does

March 19, 2012 § 28 Comments

Helping my parents on Sunday. They are in the process of the big move. Out to the country. So I enlisted C’s help, and he’s okay with it because it’s work, not a social thing. C’s a worker bee. So long as he is busy he’s quite content. Anyway, so the family is in and out of the house, they are fully downsizing so family is picking up tables and desks and beds,etc. that my parents aren’t taking with them.
 I love my Nonna. She’s just wonderful… As a grandmother. Mother-in-law…. Yeah, not so much. Her and my mother have a somewhat strained relationship. See, if my dad makes decisions she would not make for him, it’s my mother’s influence. Like them not getting married, having children so late in life. Blah blah, blah. Over the years the have learned to peacefully co-exist. The key is to understand first and foremost, she is my dad’s mother. What that means is that no one will ever be good enough for him. And that while her Catholicism may be skewed to her advantage, she is still catholic, or as C.J. calls it “the C word”.

 So she came and made a comment about how it was nice that my “special friend” would help them. That is instead of boyfriend he is my “special friend”. I am fairly certain she knows that this idea she has that I will find some nice Italian girl is never going to happen, but she still likes to pretend that C is just a friend, a roommate. So the CJ says that he doesn’t like Nonna calling him that. I told him. Or to worry. She’s just Nonna, stuck in her ways. “I still don’t think it’s nice calling him retarded.”. Not that kind of special CJ.
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Winning like Charlie Sheen:P

January 21, 2012 § 8 Comments

   I was a bargainer when I was a kid.  I never took things at face value convinced I was always being low-balled.  I think it comes from being raised in a city with so many immigrants where in markets and most commissioned stores my family took price tags as the starting negotiated price.  “Time to go” in the park would lead to “three more slides”, my mother countering “one more slide”, “Two more”, deal.
   Bedtime was a negotiation of stories.  One story was the rule but then the “short ones” would come in to play.
   One day (no memory of this but heard about it enough I almost remember it) when I was about 3 or 4 maybe, driving to Toronto: “how much longer?”
My mother “Half hour”
Me: “Five minutes”
My mother: “No a half hour”  Oooo, someone wants to play hard ball.
Me: “Fifteen minutes.”
My mother : “No, we cannot get there any quicker Jamie.  It’s going to be a 30 minutes”, Oooo now we have room for negotiation.
Me “Ten minutes.”
At this point my dad is laughing and my mother is getting frustrated and asks him what is so funny.  “You arguing with someone who doesn’t know how to tell time.”
My Mother : “Fine ten minutes”
I win.

Ghosts of Christmas past

January 5, 2012 § 12 Comments

For some reason I was thinking about my cousin and myself as little kids.  We were both watched a lot by my Nonna while our parents worked.  My Nonna has two kitchens.  One upstairs kitchen where everything is spotless, one downstairs, where still everything is spotless, but it does not have to stay this way.  This is the one she cooks in.  She also has a living room with her couch in the clear plastic slip covers  She DUSTS her couch.  

   There are two doors in my Nonna’s house.  The front door which leads to a large foyer, opening to her plastic couched living room and french doors with open to her beautiful kitchen.  Then there is the side door which leads to the kitchen of good smells, and her sunken “den”, and two rooms.  Growing up A and I spent many times napping on the den couch, playing, juice got spilled, crumbs dropped.  We lived in the den and second (which is really the only) kitchen.  When family would come over we spent time in the den.  Every Christmas that plastic would come off the couch and for one very tense evening Nonna’s couch lived life on the wild side.  Bareback furniture.
Anyway, because A and I were about 4 and 5 and so used to fooling around at Nonna’s we did not really grasp the impact of being allowed in the front door.  It felt like forever, but was probably only an hours of us getting told to “settle down” or “sit still” when finally Nonna said she would go down and put on a movie for us. My cousin got “Spice World” for Christmas, I can’t remember what I wanted to watch, but we were arguing.      
     We ended up shoving each other and went right into the french doors guarding the “Good Kitchen”.  As my mother stood up an entire glass of red wine down a cream coloured sofa with embroidered roses.  My cousin had a split lip and the back of my head managed to break the glass, yet it remained intact, with the perfect curved indent of the back of my head in the thick glass.  Surprisingly I was unhurt, but later as we sat watching “Spice World”, A with a dishcloth full of ice pressed to her lip and a smirk that she got her choice of movie at the cost of a little blood we heard my Nonna directed the cleaning of the couch while assuring my mother it was fine, and that she probably had too much to drink.  My father arguing that it had more to do with two children going through a glass door.  
   The couch was never the same, and they had to get a new one.  All of which Nonna assured my mother was no big deal.  But every Christmas she mentions Jamie’s head indented in the glass and the sofa.  “I loved that sofa.”  

Why are people such assholes?

January 2, 2012 § 18 Comments

Why are people so mean to each other?  Two times today I have had friends upset after getting their grades.  Not because of bad grades, no, because someone had to piss on their fucking accomplishments.  First being my girl Ali.  She stepped out of her comfort zone and took a woman’s study course that she was challenged by and had been freaking during exams.  Ali works 2 jobs, and one of the jobs, well she hates.  The assistant manager she works under is an utter and absolute bitch.  Anyway, she went into work and the bitch asks “So did you get your grade back?”
97%
“It’s so cute you get so excited, wait until you get that in a real class.”
   Now I could see, when she was telling me, it was not going to end well.  BUT Ali was excited and proud, and didn’t honestly think why would some 40 year old woman want to embarrass and humiliate a 20 year old girl.  Just cause she could.  Ali said she spent the entire 5 hour shift feeling like bursting into tears and cried on the bus on the way home.  Not because of sadness, but anger at how she was humiliated in front of her co-workers.

   The other, my friend Ry, had excellent grades, but he is taking Sociology.  Ry’s single mother is a doctor and any time he makes good grades she says “See I told you you’re smart enough to go to medical school.” She just does not get that he does not suffer delusions of stupidity, or think going into social work makes you stupider than a doctor.  His mother can honestly NOT comprehend why someone may make different choices than she has made and be happy.  He often says that she might give him peace if he starts getting Cs and Ds.  Now I suppose his mother is not just trying to be mean.  But honestly, what a controlling …. uh… mom.
 
   People just suck sometimes.

Thanksgiving weekends

October 20, 2011 § 12 Comments

So on Sunday we went to my Aunt’s.  Now my mom usually does the thanksgiving thing, but had no desire to this year, so my grandma was going to.  Then she put her back out.  So to my Aunt.  Now, I know I am supposed to love my whole family.  I have been told I love my Aunt Crystal.  I do not.  She is an utter and absolute total bitch.  She “suffers” from depression.  Now I put that in quotes, because it seems to me she rather enjoys her depression while everyone else suffers from her depression.  See, her depression is a brutal disease where she can say anything she wants sans consequences.  She is just being “honest” and everyone gets the benefit of her honesty.  The whole world gets to here her opinions and CANNOT be offended because she is “Ill”.  BUT god fucking forbid you have an opinion of HER that she disagrees with.  Then you are being a major asshole and driving her into the dreaded relapse.
While she gets to wax on about her ideas about homosexuality being too socially acceptable and biracial mixing just being wrong you have to ignore.  The entire family plays this game.  Auntie Crystal is “delicate”.   No, she is a bitch!  And her main whipping boy tends to be my mom.  Probably because the younger brother long ago stopped giving anything she said credence at all, so to save her feeling she bullies the one who will not fight back.  My mom is a peace keeper.  Always has been.  She keeps the peace in her and dad’s family too.  But some times you want to just say FUCK mom tell her to shut the fuck up already.

Okay, So it happened.  Now before you think it, I have hugely backed off him.  This is not my fault, not really anyway.  Yes, he went down to his parents’ house for the long weekend and come Sunday he just told them.  It did not go well.  Surprisingly enough C is quite settled about the whole thing.  But I feel somewhat guilty. On the other hand I also feel relieved and like he now has something more invested. Does that make me a total dick? Probably, but who wants to be with someone who can’t be happy to be with you and never goes anywhere “straight” with you because god forbid it get back to the parental units what, or who he’s doing over here in the big bad city. C never exactly told me everything that happened or was said, but his parents are no longer speaking to him. Is it wrong that I think he should be relieved rather than upset? I know easy to say when it is not your family… but still I don’t get it. On the plus side he seems much more relaxed than I would be. He says because he knew exactly what was going to happen when he told them. Part of me is kind of afraid that he may start to resent me if this the end of his relationship with his parents, but he says it won’t happen, and that in the end he knew what it would come down to.

Oops, I thought I published this a week ago.  My bad.  Sorry for the delay.

While the parents are away…. and then not

August 18, 2011 § 8 Comments

   So, last night I get a phone call to say my parents are spending the night at my grandparents because the boys were asleep.  Ahhhh, air conditioning, no parents, sounds like C’s spending the night.  After a bit of prodding he comes over.  Okay, a shit load of prodding actually.  He gets all bitchy about my parents, well my dad, not being over fond of him.  Dad was pissy about C staying over while they were at the cottage.  Well, fuck, they asked me to look after the place and if they think I was doing that and NOT taking advantage.  Seriously?
   Anyway, finally convinced him to come over.  We take off after about 30 seconds or so to my room.  So things are going quite well.  You may say we are getting along well and playing nicetogether, very nice indeed.  Then a fucking car in the driveway, accompanied by a scream that tells me this is no lost car turning around in our driveway.  The parents are definitely home with a very pissed off Casey in tow.
   Well C is off me in a heartbeat and scrambling for his clothes when I remind him that his car is in the driveway anyway, so he is going nowhere fast.  “Just go down and turn on the TV.” So I hear the TV about 20 seconds before the parents open the door.  Whew, close one.  I got cleaned up and dressed soooo fucking fast as I hear my mom asking Chris how he is doing.  I come down the stairs, trying to walk as if my ankles were not doubling as ear muff three minutes earlier.
   Almost got away without competely embarrassing ourselves, until commercial is over on television.  When C came over I was watching a movie on OUT tv.  Well, at 2 AM the channel tends to turn a little bit more “adult”.  So suddenly a review on a new sex toy.  I don’t know what was funnier, the look of horror on C’s face as the loud voice on the television warned about “make sure you use plenty of lubrication”, or my mother trying not to laugh.  Chris went home about 40 seconds later.
   So this morning I sent him a text : “My parents are out of town, wanna come over?”
   “I H8 U”  Obviously a accidental pocket text:P

Coming out

May 25, 2010 § 14 Comments

Well, I had decided ot come out. Now I have literally heard dozens of stories of coming out. The sad, the violent, the hopeful, even the funny. Mine was none of the above.
I practiced all day… My mom called me off sick when she saw my pale face that morning and banished me to my room for a rest. She firmly believes that sleep cures all ills. So, I cowardly took the day ot practice what I would say, and thought of all the senarios I have heard about on the internet happening. I even had a ridiculous version of being punched in the face by my dad, though in my entire life I have never even been yelled at by either of my parents. It left me a nervous wreck.
I waited until after my little brother was in bed and went into the living room where Dad was channel surfing and Mom reading a book. “Uh, can I talk to you for a second?”
My parents never said no to a talk. Instantly the tv was muted and Mom turned her book down ot keep her page. Two sets of eyes waiting patiently, and Mom noticed my nervousness. “Oh, God, Jamie, you aren’t failing math again, are you?” My mother, the mathematicla genius has never understood my inability with numbers. I spent months of each year being tutored by her at the diningroom table.
I bit my lip, almost opting for the easy out. “Well, yeah, but that is not what I need ot talk to you about,” I admitting, and I saw my mom lock her hand on my dad’s arm, suddenly scared of something that would make flunking math not important. “Well, the thing is… I just…” I realized I was scaring the shit out of both of them. “I think I am gay.”
My mom sagged against the cushions. “Jesus Christ, Jamie, don’t scare me like that again. I thought you were going ot tell me you knocked up some girl or something.” she put a hand to her chest. “What is this, give your mother a heart attack day?”
I didn;t think she was taking me seriously. “Mom, I’m serious. I’m gay.”
My dad gave me a thoughtful look. “Did something happen to make you think this, James?” he asked. Oh, god, did he think I was going around molesting boys?
My voice small I shoved my hands in my pockets. “No, I just know what I am, and um, am not attracted to.”
“So there were no actions leading up to this discovery,” I realized then my dad had been worried that I had been touched by some pervert who made me question my sexuality. I shook my head. The he relaxed. “O-kay. So, what now? Do you have a boyfriend or something?”
“No,” I denied. Then I shrugged. “But there is a boy I like… he is into guys…”
Mom rolled her eyes. “And so the teenage dating whirlwind begins,” she held her arms up for me to give her a hug, holding on a little longer than she usually did. “Just remember, when I hate your boyfriends it is not because they are boys, it’s because no one will ever be good enough for you.”
My dad came down to my room later and told me he was proud that I believed in them enough to tell them and handed me several boxes of condoms and made me promise to always use a condom, and never the freebees at clinics or cheap ones. That when I ran out ot let him know, and he would buy me more. It is an arrangement we still have, yeah, even at 19 I go to dad for condoms.

So that was it. As promised. Not sad, violent or hopeful, or even funny. Uneventful. Only in my house can you come out of the closet and people act as if you were saying you preferred blue t-shirts to black. I am sure one day when I share this story with other gay males who have gone through this they will tell me how lucky I was. How blessed with understanding. To me… I will always have the most boring coming out story ever.

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