For Gadi's gay contest.
I know that you said I shouldn’t contact you anymore, but I think that you should know what’s going on in my life. I mean, what kind of family doesn’t keep in touch?
I’m getting married- or civilly partnered, whatever- in a month. I got this really smart white suit made by a guy in London (Lucas is wearing a black one so that at least one thing is going to be traditional) and although it cost an arm and a leg and I’m never going to wear it again it was worth it, because people say it’s the biggest day of your life, and I want to look as good as I know I’m going to feel.
I even have something blue. Do you remember that Chelsea watch you gave me, before you made me leave? I’m wearing that; Lucas said that if you weren’t going to turn up, at least I’d have something to remind me of you. And to be honest, I think I prefer having a bit of my old dad, than the real thing. I prefer to remember you as you were, than how you are now.
That said, you’re still welcome to come. I’d love it if you were there, even if all you did was yell at me. Just because you can’t accept me doesn’t mean that I can’t accept you. You don’t have to make a speech or anything- Lucas’ family are doing all the pomp-and-circumstance stuff. You’d just have to sit and watch. I’m not even expecting a smile.
We’re going on honeymoon to Rome; Lucas is an art freak and he’s infected me with his baroque-bug. I’m almost more excited about Bernini than I am about the marriage. We’ve been on holiday before (Greece last spring, Barcelona over the summer) but apparently no culture compares to Rome. We’re going to visit Paris on the way back, too, for the Louvre. I want to go and see all the Da Vinci’s there- Leonardo and I had something in common.
Okay, so I admit I’ve been avoiding the real reason I wrote. I’m just scared that what I’m about to say will ruin us forever. Please take this objectively, and don’t get mad. Mind you, you’ve probably already screwed this letter up.
I was talking to Lucas’ mum the other day, and she started badmouthing you. It’s happened before, but I’ve previously always felt the need to defend you. I used to claim that you just didn’t understand, that you had been brought up a different way and in a different era. But this time; I don’t know why, but I wanted to join in. I wanted to agree with her. I wanted to say, “Yeah, he is an arsehole.”
I was wondering why, and I’ve figured out that I have a lot of bottled up anger; all this stuff that I’ve wanted to tell you but never had the guts. When you kicked me out, I felt like I was a complete misfit. I felt that I would never fit in anywhere, that no-one would ever accept me. If my own father couldn’t see past my sexuality, then how could anyone? I started to think that maybe you were right; maybe there really was something wrong with me. Before you blew up in my face, I’d never thought that the way I felt was bad or evil. You planted that little seed in my mind, that seed that grew and grew until I thought maybe you were right, maybe I was disgusting. It got to the point where I almost feared myself.
I spoke to Lucas about it, and he said he had friends who had been through the same thing. Apparently everybody has moments of weakness; there are so many prejudices we have to fight against every day. He said that we are who we are, and just because some people still have the mindset that the rest of the world has grown out of, we should not have to hide. And I think he’s right. I’m happy with the way I am- no, I’m ecstatic. I love my life. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I don’t care what people on the street think, because I’m happier than I could have ever dreamt.
And look at you and me now! Who’s the one living alone? Who’s the one stuck in a job he hates, surrounded by people he hates and with an ex-wife who took all the friends? While you’re sitting down with your fag and your porn video, I’m planning my wedding with the man I love.
So I guess what I really want to say is that I don’t want to lose what we once had- if you decide that you’re finally prepared to let go and accept me, I’ll only be happy. But if you want to go along with the crowd who use gay as an insult and think that homosexuality is a sin, then I don’t think we can have that Father-Son bond. As much as I want to, I can’t be around someone who is going to judge my every action.
Come to the wedding, Dad. It wouldn’t be the same without you.
But otherwise, goodbye.