This weekend Fuzzy talked me into going down to Pueblo to spend the day with the parents. I’ve said it before, having such a non relationship with my own parents it seems odd to see a somewhat functional parent/gay-child relationship. Yes, I did tell my Uber-Mormon parents that I’m a twisted faggot. But you know, it really didn’t help or hurt the situation. I really don’t understand the Gay Dogma of “ You must come out to everyone.” Seriously. Sometimes it’s just better to take people on their terms and try not to shove them into a mold they will not fit it. Will my Dad every want to hear about my Big Gay exploits? No. Do I want to hear about his Mormon missions? No.
You have two chances in life to have a healthy family relationship. When you’re a kid with your parents and when you grow up and foster your own. I am very lucky to have a family relationship with Fuzz, BFF Carl, IG Frank and the strong family circle we have.
Fuzzy has taught me many things about myself. But the biggest is that you can have a health relationship with your parents. But every party must being willing to step up and work on it.
So, let me jump down from this soapbox. There, that’s better. After dinner, I was sitting on the couch watching football. Yeah. Watching football with the ex prison guard, state trooper, Father-in-law. He gets up and hollers back,
“Steve ya-want some cake?”
I say “ No thanks, I’m on a slimming regiment.”
He didn’t get it. Nor should he. One minute later the Mom hollers
“Did you want ice cream with your cake?”
“Uh….sure thanks.” It was pretty damn good cake.