I don't need it - but someone else might

My mother doesn't want to know that I'm gay. What she wants is confirmation that I'm NOT. On a few occasions in my life, conversation with my mother ventured into the area of my sexuality. She has made comments ("I hope you're not tryin' to get into that faggot shit") as opposed to asking outright ("Are you gay?")and has always shut down when the conversation seemed to be steering into faggotville.

So, I just chalked it up to her inability to handle it if she learned that I was gay. She simply doesn't want me to be, she wants proof that I'm not. That's telling in and of itself, right? She's not wanting proof that I'm straight ... she wants proof that I'm not gay. But, whatever ... the truth is that I'm grown, I live on my own, I have kids that I take care of and I don't really need her approval.

or so I thought.

Today I got a card from the executive assistant at work - it was a hallmark card for the director here who just got married over the weekend. However, last month a gay coworker announced that he and his partner of 20 years were going to go through a civil ceremony now that Illinois recognized gay marriage. There was no card. Nothing.

So I asked the executive assistant if I had missed the card for the other guy - I hadn't signed it. She was shocked. Confused. And then remorseful. (It was interesting to see those emotions register on her face and in her body language one after another ...) She went downstairs and spent 30 minutes trying to pick out a card for him from Walgreens. She chose an appropriate light green, gender-neutral card and I was proud of her.

However, it resonated with me - that marriage was invisible to her. It simply didn't occur to her to get a card because she just didn't see it. And that bothered me. These two men have been together for 20 years! The odds that their marriage will last til death do them part are way higher than the straight couple's 50% odds ... yet still, it was less meaningful.

Seriously - that bothers me.

I think about how many people in my own family have ever come out of the closet. Zero. That's right. Zero. In the machismo Latin world I come from ... no one dares do it.

And I'm realizing that I'm that dude who needs to do it. First, I'm far enough removed from the intricate familial web that the gossip and backlash won't actually impact me personally. And that rumor will make it through to EVERYONE ... and some of those people need to know that someone did it before them. I won't name them - but I know who they are.

So - you know, while I don't really feel the need to do it ... I feel the need to do it.

It'll happen before year end ...

My momma's a bitch

Did the title get your attention?

Allow me to preface this post by saying that I love my mother. Mainly, however, it's because my culture demands that I do. Sons in the Latino culture are supposed to look after their mommas - we're just supposed to. And my family is good about laying on the guilt trip to make sure the sons do their mothers' bidding. In the absence of that culture, I might actually abhor my mom, though.

Her actions made it very clear to me growing up that she did not want me. But I sought her love and affection anyway. And it never came - ever. Yet still, if something or somebody makes my mother cry ... I can't explain it. If I hear her cry, a little part of me feels like its dying.

Today, my cousin called me to tell me that our second cousin was shot and killed in Florida. I didn't know this kid, but clearly he was family. See, my mother is the youngest of 5 siblings and I am HER youngest. In our family, I am the youngest of the cousins and my cousin who lost her son today? She the eldest of my mother's eldest sibling.

Get it? We're completely different generations and didn't spend much time together. But the call came in that my aunt is in mourning and is a mess at having lost her grandson. She wants her sisters. Like, my mother.

But no one can find my mother - so I get a call with all this information.

I go crazy calling her numbers and no answer. I know my mother MUST be in some casino somewhere and sure enough I eventually get a call back. It went something like this:

Mom: I didn't know that kid, Alex.

Me: Ma - I didn't either - but your sister is a mess and is ASKING for you.

Mom: Well, I'm at a slot machine and it's GIVIN' it to me and I'm happy.

Me: Ok. Have fun.

Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Your sister, who recently buried her son who succombbed to AIDS-related illnesses, just lost her grandson ... and is ASKING for you. And you won't walk away from a slot machine?

People, I'm stunned. I'm just stunned. That's some cold shit right there - selfish, coldhearted shit. And I can't even be bothered with her right now.

One last thing ...

So, I quit smoking and I stopped having casual sex and I started training for a half marathon ... but I have only halfheartedly taken up the whole eating right and losing weight thing ... I had lost all of my quit smoking weight and pretty much put it all back on in the last month. The yo-yo between 165 and 175 is a mess for me and it's annoying the fuck out me too.

I found out today that my uncle had a heart attack ... again. Yes, again. This, the same uncle who had a quintuple bypass the last time ... yuh, him. He's gotten to eating badly again, not taking his meds the way he's supposed to and stressing out like crazy at work. Really?

My father had a quadruple bypass a couple of years ago.

Soon after, my aunt had a stint put in.

Clearly - I had some fucked up genes ... why am I still eating like this?

So, I'm going to add another marked focus - but I'm not trying to get crazy with it. I'm not trying to get back to 145 pounds (can you see it?) ... My plan righ tnow is 165 pounds and hold steady instead of getting there and then eating at every fast food joint I can name ... Simple plan ... get there (like i know I can) and stay there ... for the rest of the year.

Nothing major - nothing ridiculous ... just something else.