L.A. Affairs: When I came out to my father, he cried. And then he put a curse on me

At the age of 17, I signed up for a free subscription to the risky International Male. Menswear mail order catalog I was naively convinced that it looked as harmless as the one published by JC Penny. The see-through mesh thong underwear it features was usually hidden between the pages of a leopard print sleeveless shirt and a suede vest with plenty of fringes, so this booklet isn’t for teenagers’ interest in men’s clothing. Who could have sued that they were happy with the thing?

I also thought that the catalog would arrive unnoticed in my mailbox and would be lost by subscribing to junk mail and more mainstream periodicals such as Details, GQ and Interview Magazine. One day, when my dad went to collect mail, I was playing a video game with my brother in the bedroom. I heard him yell “Richard!” I rushed into the living room to find him clenching the catalog. He seemed concerned that this type of degenerated material was spying on the coffee table of the suspect, who was detained when he served as a law enforcement officer.

“Are you gay ?!” He demanded using worse words. “No,” I stuttered. I couldn’t see his eyes. The humiliation shook my shoulders and started crying. He questioned me how the catalog landed in the chaste mailbox of our family. The mother, who was drawn into the turmoil, gently intervened to ease her father’s anger. I made a story on the spot. I said I was fooled by the subscription and just crazy about “clothes”. I immediately canceled my subscription.

A year later, when I came out as gay, it was my dad’s turn to cry.

My dad’s reaction when we were sitting together under the loquat tree in the backyard was less aggressive this time, but was still bordered by disapproval. “Mijo, you will live a very lonely life,” he promised.

Whenever Latin parents put before pronunciation with “mijo” or “mija”, you know they are trying to drop something that they truly think is inevitable.

I still remember thinking, “Do you know what your life will be like?” It was the opposite story, so I didn’t rebuke my father. Fortune-teller.

He delivered the message so reliably that it sounded more like a curse than a prediction. Sanjo, you will live a very lonely life …

Since then, questions have been raised. What if he was right?

It bothered me at the lowest moment of my young LA dating experience. When I stood up. When a blind date becomes sour. When I become a ghost or betrayed, when the connection required by the app gets messy, or when yet another promising relationship evaporates, I return to that moment under the loquat tree and my dad’s hex I had to ponder the ruggedness of the.

How do you not curse yourself?

One night, about five years ago, an Uber driver picked me up from my home in East Los Angeles and dropped me off in West Hollywood for a birthday party at a wine shop.

I usually avoid the expensive frivolity of WeHo, but celebrations like obligatory networks often tempt me to Santa Monica Boulevard. After the party, I did bar hopping with my friends. That night, I didn’t expect much from the world because I could see what was going on in my life, such as work and the good luck of selling a TV show recently. I may have been single, but I had something happening, I had something to do, and I didn’t have time to wastefully pin the man.

When I stepped into Boystown that night, I felt free and easy because I didn’t want anything but socializing with my friends.

Of course, the revolver video bar was full. A man’s literal revolving door spins at its entrance, a constant stream of men who nourish the attention of bars, dance floors, and everyone’s surroundings. My friends and I drank cocktails and screamed at each other as the music screamed.

As soon as he entered, my eyes caught him. Handsome and wonderful skin and a killer smile. His friend knew my friend and the referral turned into a chit chat, which turned into a conversation. As the night went on and the flirting became more intense, the drinks loosened us. Later that night, our friends were abandoned and we leaned against the back wall and became like teenagers at the prom afterparty.

That night I went home with him, but of course it didn’t guarantee anything about the future. When I left his place at 2 am, it seemed like a small miracle had happened. The same Uber driver came to pick me up.

The best version of LA is as a site of meet cute and happy events.

A few hours later, I received a text like this: That was unexpected. “

I later learned that he was half Indian, half Chinese, and an immigrant to the United States via Guyana. And here I thought he was Filipino. Certainly an international man.

We now have a family where we can date, run away, couple, meet friends, move together, buy a car, and now discuss each other’s voices and money. (He even met my dad who accepts him despite our ups and downs.) My partner and I order clothes from the same website and don’t buy the same shirt Sometimes we have to talk to each other. When he pulled out wisdom teeth, I took him to the dentist, and when he traveled for work, I took him to the airport. He bought me an elaborate cake for my birthday and cooked a supper every day for most of the shutdown. Before the quarantine, we traveled the world together. In quarantine, we were inseparable for months. Apart or always together, I love him.

I don’t know when, exactly, where it happened.

Maybe it was a few years ago that we visited his cousin in Switzerland and then traveled to Croatia for a wedding. Or maybe you were walking in Havana’s Malecon, playing with your childhood friend in London, climbing a pyramid outside Mexico City, or hiking in Sedona’s Cathedral Rock.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but somewhere, somehow, at some point the curse was lifted.

And the shame of a 17-year-old boy who secretly wanted to change the color of a man with a string turned into the joy of living with a man as international as my teenager dreamed of. It was.

The author is a Los Angeles writer on Instagram @Amazing watcherr

LA Affairs records a romantic quest for love in all of its glorious expressions in the LA region. We want to hear your true story. You will pay $ 300 for the published essay. Email LAAffairs@..You can find submission guidelines Here..

L.A. Affairs: When I came out to my father, he cried. And then he put a curse on me Source link L.A. Affairs: When I came out to my father, he cried. And then he put a curse on me

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