I remember when my son, Brian, first came out as a gay teen—it was a time when I was prepared to be fully supportive in his sexual orientation, but nothing could have prepared me for his disgusting choice to date Jeff, a gas station attendant well into his thirties. Any proud father would want the best for his gay son, yet my kid’s taste in men has left me feeling ashamed. Perhaps it is the blind ignorance of my generation that led me to believe gay men were strong, smart, successful and attractive, but Brian is sure as hell proving me wrong.
Yeah, I know it sounds ignorant and old-fashioned. But, I never pictured myself as the father to a gay son with no taste in men, let alone fashion or music. Aren’t homosexuals supposed to be well-kept, attractive and up on the latest trends? Not my kid. He’s currently at a county fair with this boyfriend, waiting to see Foreigner (not the original lineup, by the way) and I fully expect him to come home smelling like Coors Light and non-menthol cigarettes. I’m sorry, but no gay son of mine will be caught drinking beer from an aluminum can.
I’ve read the Bible and I know what it says about homosexuality: being gay is no worse than getting a tattoo or eating fish on the wrong day. But, come on, Leviticus, did you ever think that man would lie with another man on a dirty-ass futon in a studio apartment littered with empty Taco Bell wrappers and Monster Energy cans? I know I’m supposed to accept my gay son for who he is, but I refuse to accept any homosexual who prefers Nickelback over Cher. In my not-so-humble opinion, this whole thing has just gone too far. What’s next, lesbian women living alone? Trans kids who identify as Republican? Can’t we just dial it back a bit?
I try to accept my son for who he is, but I’m finding it hard to come to grips with his assertion that he was "born this way," seeing how my other gay kid made the choice to pursue a career in finance, allowing him to enjoy the best cars, clothing and men that New York City has to offer. You hear that, Brian? New York City. That’s where your brother is. You? You’re stuck in Scio, Oregon, working on cars. What the hell, dude?
