Graduation Day
Over the weekend, our dog Anna graduated from obedience training. She celebrated this momentous occasion by promptly taking a shit in the middle of the floor, right in front of her instructor. Then, to make sure she left a lasting impression, she got into a slapping fight with her classmate.
That’s our girl.
Cuddle Bug
I’ve turned our dog into a cuddling monster.
Before Daniel leaves for work in the morning, he sits on the side of the bed and tells me to have a good day. Then he gives me a kiss and says he loves me. Depending on how lucid I am, I either carry on a conversation with him or just mumble “you too.”
Our dog Anna is sleeping quietly in the crate next to the bed. She was crate trained from the day she was born, so she has a very positive association with it. At night, we just have to say “go to bed” and she’ll voluntarily get in the crate and go to sleep.
One morning, I looked over at her, all curled up in a warm Schnauzery ball, and decided I wanted to cuddle. So I took her out of her crate and put her under the covers with me. Then I did the same thing the next day. And the next day.
Eventually that became a habit and she started looking forward to our cuddle time in the morning. Now when Daniel leaves for work, she thinks that’s her cue. As soon as he walks out the door, she sits in her crate and whines. I open it up and she jumps into the bed and goes to sleep next to me.
It’s a terrible habit and you should never reward a dog for whining. But on the plus side, she only does it in the morning, and as soon as she gets into bed with me, she goes back to sleep and doesn’t cause any trouble. So I’ve decided to let this habit stick.
Becoming Bad Nathan
I sat at my desk chair, sweaty and flushed. My shirt was soaked and clinging to me uncomfortably. My head was dizzy, my stomach was empty.
The phone conversation started with good intentions and rational expectations. I always map out conversations in my head before having them. I’d given it a lot of thought and felt my requests were fair. The yearly Christmas itinerary with my family made me unhappy and I wanted it to change.
As it stands, Daniel and I are welcome in the family, but there’s an established rule that we “don’t act gay” around the children. It’s a horrible rule that was stated long ago when I was younger, and dumber, and not very good with words. I’ve grown up a lot since then and I feel very comfortable in my own skin. The days of playing Bert & Ernie are behind us.
So when I told my parents that I no longer wanted to play these roles, I thought they would be sympathetic. Perhaps explaining why and how it hurt me would humanize my struggles as a gay man. They say they love me. So if you love someone, and realize you’re hurting them, you should make efforts to fix things, right?
Apparently not. My family’s not having it. They “love” us, they want us around. But if I want to acknowledge that Daniel is my husband, and be our normal selves, that’s not going to fly. I was called “selfish.” I was told I’m just trying to be “controversial” and “difficult.” My parents told me that if we weren’t going to “act like we usually do, we should just stay home.”
Fine. Fuck it then. We’ll stay home. I’d much rather spend Christmas curled up with my husband by the fireplace, watching Miracle on 34th Street (the black and white version, not this technicolor bullshit), and enjoying some nice Appletinis while our puppy and cat nap nearby. Sounds grand.
So in summary, my parents don’t want us to come around if we’re going to be ourselves at Christmas. If that’s not painful enough to hear, they went on for another full hour about how “horrible” I am to not agree to their terms. What a terrible, terrible person I am. So not only am I basically kicked out of the family, but then I’m told that I’m a bad person for standing up for myself.
I guess I’m the villain. No amount of ration or reasonability can be had with these people. And I do love them. I love them deeply and genuinely. But their behavior is wrong. They’ll never see it that way and I guess I’m the outcast son now. But all I did was stand up for my true self. If they don’t love that person, then they can’t really say they loved or even knew the real me.
I hate being pinned as the bad guy. That’s how everyone in the family will see it too. Nothing gets under your skin like the disapproval of your family. We can act like it’s easy to walk away, and many gay people have done it. But it’s one of the worst pains in the world.
And yet they try to extend that olive branch to me… Like they are the good guys. “Just be something you’re not and you can come back to us. Don’t you want to come back to us, Nathan? Don’t you want to spend Christmas with us?”
No. Not like this.
Goodbye, Magoo
A few weeks ago, I turned to Daniel and said, “I’m afraid Magoo is going to die young.”
“What makes you think that?” he asked.
“Well, she’s 8 years old and she doesn’t really do much. She’s never done much. She just eats, sleeps, and poops and doesn’t really get much exercise.”
Magoo had always been like that. She was a shy cat, kind of a loner. Everything made her nervous and she wasn’t very interactive. Since her food was located just a room away from the litter box, and right next to my office, where she usually slept, there really wasn’t much incentive for her to go anywhere else in the house. So day after day, she just circled the same area of our home. Occasionally she’d make the trip upstairs to bathe in the warm glow of the sunlight. She loved a sunny day.
Managing Expectations
I talked to my Mom yesterday and sure enough, things didn’t go well. We’ve talked three times and the fighting continues.
She doesn’t understand why I want her to accept that I’m married to a man. She thinks it should be good enough that she loves me and accepts me as her son. And she’s correct, I’m very thankful that she accepts me as her son. But as my previous post stated, I’m not asking for special treatment. I’m merely asking for equal treatment. I want her to respect my marriage the same way she respects my brother’s marriage to his wife.
I’m managing expectations
All relationships have expectations and meeting them is very important for the health of a relationship. I have expectations of my husband, of my friends, of the people I work with.
So I’ve reached a point in my adult life that my family has fallen below my expectations. I’m no longer happy with being the Bert & Ernie at the Thanksgiving dinner table. I’m no longer willing to be the elephant in the room that makes everyone nervous about my nouns when kids are present. This little charade was tolerable in my 20s, even though it drove me crazy. But as I find myself about to enter my 30s, I’ve been evaluating my life very closely and deciding what I want to change about it.
My expectations have changed and in order to grow, I’ve requested some alterations. Will my family adapt to them? It’s too soon to say. But asking is the first step. We can’t complain about our life if we don’t take active steps to change or improve it.
Shockingly calm about everything
God forbid, this is the first sign that my testosterone is mellowing out. I remember the days when I used to get so angry and upset about things like this. I wanted to put my fist through a wall when I got mad. But I’m actually pretty calm right now. It’s not the end of the world, and I know that. My Mom will probably call back for round four, and I know that too. I’m prepared to have another heated argument or debate. It’s unpleasant, but I can handle it.
I was born gay, and I know this. I have the right to be married and to be happy. I know this too. I have an expectation from my family that I want them to provide. I see it with absolute clarity, confidence, and optimism.
It doesn’t mean I don’t love them. It doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being a part of the family. All it means is that they need to try harder.
Uncomfortable
10.17.11
12:45 AM
Dear Mom,
I’ve been thinking about my comfort level these past few days and I have some things I want to get off my chest. I don’t know if I’ll send this letter. I really don’t like to rock the boat. But I’m going to write it anyway, and then we’ll just see how I feel about sending it in the morning.
The reunion was this weekend for the relatives on your side of the family. I told you a few months ago that I really didn’t want to go because I felt like most of my relatives completely dismissed my wedding to Daniel this past April. Since they made it clear that they don’t want to be a part of our big moments as a couple, I figured there’s no point in sitting around making small talk with them.
I thought you’d protest my decision. You always used to encourage me to come to reunions. Sometimes I did so I’d make you happy. And when I didn’t come, I felt really bad about it.
But this year, you had different words. You seemed relieved and told me that was fine. “Really?” I asked in disbelief. I kept waiting for a story about how I should cherish the time we have left with our family. But instead, you confessed that you would have felt uncomfortable with introducing Daniel as my husband.
I brushed it off at first. I wouldn’t want to put you in a position that makes you uncomfortable. I sincerely mean that. I know you were uncomfortable with the wedding itself and I really am thankful that you came anyway. I know you don’t believe it, but you’ll be glad you did someday. I really know it.
This weekend, Daniel and I went to a wedding… A “gay” wedding, I guess. It was two women. One of the women lost her mother just recently. It was a very bittersweet ceremony. The emotion in the air was palpable. She didn’t get to have her mother there on her wedding day. It was such a sad emptiness right there in the middle of such a happy occasion.
And that’s why I needed you and Dad at our wedding. Even if you were uncomfortable, it still mattered for you to be there. If nothing else, I will always be able to look back at that day and say my parents were at our wedding. That’s something our friend who got married can’t say about her mom.
Okay, so 400 words in, I’m getting to the point. Comfort. You stepped out of your comfort zone, but where do we go from there? You took a giant leap forward, but you’re still uncomfortable with the whole marriage topic.
And this leads into a bigger issue — MY comfort. I walk on eggshells to make my family comfortable. I censor the things I say when I’m with the family so that I don’t make anyone uncomfortable with the fact that Daniel and I are married. I censor myself around my brothers, their kids. I go out of my way to be a watered down version of myself just to make everyone else comfortable.
But nobody ever asks me if I’m comfortable. If Daniel’s comfortable. And I’m sorry to sound ungrateful, because I know you’ve done a lot. But on the topic of comfort, I simply don’t feel like this is a relationship where we’re giving fairly.
And relationships are all about balance and fairness. This isn’t as balanced as I’d like it to be. I bet there’s never been a time in your life when you’ve hesitated to introduce Dad as your husband. I bet there’s never been a time in your life that you were relieved if my brother and his wife weren’t coming to a reunion because you were uncomfortable with saying they’re married.
I just want the same fairness that I feel entitled to. I’m not asking you to be the mascot for the next gay pride parade. I just want to be treated as an equal son, with an equal spouse, and get to have the life with my family, with my parents, that you would have given me if I married a woman. I’m not asking for anything “special,” I just want something fair. Something that makes me comfortable for a change.
I can think of half a dozen ways this letter will go awry if I send it. And the mere thought of bringing this up makes me uncomfortable… And will undoubtedly make you uncomfortable too… But hey, what’s the cost of comfort? I feel like I’m paying the price for everyone else’s comfort. When is someone going to give it back in return?
I love you,
Nathan
Spending the Day with Me
Working from home requires plenty of concentration and quiet time. I try to operate the same way I would if I were leaving the house each day to go into an office. So I keep Anna upstairs in her crate, just as many dog owners do when they go to work.
Most of the time, this arrangement works pretty well. But somedays, Anna won’t stop crying, which means Daddy Nathan can’t get any work done. So I have to bring her downstairs to my home office in order to get her to calm down.
Here’s Anna, looking very happy and satisfied that she gets to spend the day with me:
And here’s Purr Purr, less than thrilled that a doggie has interrupted our quiet time:
Summertime Memory with Mom
It’s bedtime here and I thought I’d close out the day with a fond memory of summertime with Mom.
This story is from early childhood. Mom was self-employed so she was at home working while Dad went to his job each day.
As you can imagine, Mom worked best when little Nathan was quiet and didn’t get into too much mayhem. Sometimes she’d promise me that if I was very good, she’d take me swimming at the lake on Friday. Mom always kept her promises, so I knew she meant it.
Each day, I’d try my best to behave while impatiently counting down to the end of the week. It wasn’t easy, but it did teach me self control and discipline.
When Friday came, I’d get up early and gather up my beach ball, my favorite alligator raft, flip flops, and I was already dressed in my swim trunks. In fact, I think I’d slept in them. Then I’d pace outside by the car, waiting for Mom. I can just hear myself grumbling, “Mommmm, c’mon! I’ve been a good boy all week, letsgo! Pleeease!”
We finally made it to the lake in Mom’s big ol’ Lincoln Towncar. I jumped out as soon as we parked, went running through the hot sand and into the water. Mom laid on a fold-out chair to work on her suntan while reading People Magazine.
When I was ready for a break, we’d go to the concession stand and I watched them make cotton candy. I liked the blue kind. It reminded me of the sky.
I can still recall that sweet, sugary smell of freshly made cotton candy, spun in circles on those white paper sticks like clouds. I’d stick my whole face in it and bite off a big chunk. The sticky residue was all over my nose and cheeks, but I didn’t care. It was so good.
Mom and I would spend a few more hours in the water, then dry off and head home. It was another great day of summer.
Well that’s the end of tonight’s story, boys and girls. Have sweet cotton candy dreams and enjoy your summer day tomorrow!
Puppy Cuteness
Just some random cuteness of Mrs. Madrigal. She’s 11 weeks old now.
Nathan, the Stepfather
I think about them every day, and they don’t even know me.
There’s a deep secret that I’ve purposely hidden on my blog. But now I want to talk about it.
As you may know from an earlier post, I proposed to Daniel last month. We’re engaged, and couldn’t be happier. But with this marriage will come the reality that I’ll be a stepfather. Daniel has two daughters, who live with their mother.
It’s a long and complicated story, and it wouldn’t be my place to tell it. Most of it involves the all too common tale of a gay man who married and had children because of social and religious pressure. The marriage failed, obviously, as being gay isn’t a choice and isn’t something you can overcome.
Fast forward to the present, and now Daniel has two teenage daughters that don’t talk to him or have anything to do with him. It’s sad. Very sad. But thanks to some recent developments, there is a possible chance that within the next year, they will be present in Daniel’s life again.
It hit me like a ton of bricks on the day I bought Daniel’s engagement ring. I’d always known, in the back of my mind, that asking him to marry me meant that I’d be taking on the role of the stepfather. But it felt like a distant fog and nothing more. I welcome the opportunity. I love kids and certainly want his daughters to be a part of my life too.
But I wasn’t prepared for what I’d feel. So much fear and nervousness. What if they don’t like me? These are teenage girls, and we all know teenagers have a mind of their own. They can be intimidating, especially to an amateur like me, who has never raised a child of any age.
I just feel so many emotions and I’ve never even met them. But I’ve heard so many stories about them. Daniel really loves them and has been such a good father. He adores them and I enjoy hearing about all the fun they had as a family. I hope that bond can be restored someday. And I really hope they’ll accept me as their other father. If they’d give me a chance, I know we’d get along.
