Then suddenly this bit about me getting married comes up. Now, my family knows that this subject is not broached with me. But it was a joke, and everyone was having tea, so I let it pass. Another nail in the coffin of my happiness. Why bother, really? Anyways, it was something about building a separate apartment for me in a few years/whenever I get married whatever comes first.
It was assumed that I would actually be staying with my family whence I go back to wasting my life again.
Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't like anything better than living at a place where the food is good and there is ample parking, but really I don't see this scenario happening.
This is because, well, all the members of my family who are not my mom don't know for sure that I am gay. Of course, they might suspect and hope and pray that it's just a phase and one of those things that boys do like install a basketball board in their yard and never use it or get a weird haircut.
I figure that when I do tell the rest of my family that I am gay, I do intend to move out of this place I currently call home. No, it's not because anyone would say things to me. They know better than that. If I had really cared for their opinion and advice, I would've lost weight ten years ago. That's not the point.
It's that I don't want my family to suffer a smear campaign because of me. I mean I'm used to people looking at me and whispering (Oh, that's his third helping, you know or who the hell wears reeboks with corduroy trousers?). So it's fine by me. I am immune to other people's opinion. That happens when you consider yourself
And secondly, when that mob comes to kill me, I just want them to focus on me. Nothing major, I just love the attention.
Hey, turns out I do care about my family. And here I was thinking of selling their secrets for short-term personal gain. Damn you, Oprah.
No, Oprah's got nothing to do with this. I've just always wanted to say that.