I’m truly getting old. My son has just had another birthday and forgotten he was turning 18 this year. Wow time does fly, but in many ways time often stands still for me, I simply can’t move on or up or whatever it is.
My boys are back from visiting their grandparents, who casually let drop, along with my brother, that they all wanted to visit for Thanksgiving. Have a good ole family time together. The thought of my yapping mother, hick brother, bitch wife and his two moody kids in my house is enough to make me start drinking now. But oh, I don’t have a house. But they don’t know that, for the last 4 years, I’ve not lived at home and managed to keep all of this a secret.
Sure my extended worldwide trips have raised some questions, but for all they know, we’re happily married and continuing as best we can under these trying economic conditions.
So many bloggers in my own situation, big fat married homo, have come clean to their immediate family. They all seem relieved like it’s some big burden off their shoulder. Their families welcomed them with open arms, ah sonny boy, we still love you. And they lived happily ever after.
My wife called me and basically said after 4 years, it’s time to tell them something because she’s tired of playing along with me and being a passive part of whatever crime I’m committing. But I still look over that edge and go, nah. For there is no upside to this. My parents will be concerned, have all kinds of questions if I do the full monty. They’re getting on in age. they likely have a different view of how the world operates (my mother refers to Asians still as “Orientals” and asked if I’ve ridden in a rickshaw). I would be happy for them to be contently happy that all is well.
Or perhaps I take a baby step, tell them we’re getting divorced, one of those no fault divorces. “It just ran it’s course”. My father is divorced 3x, my mother twice, they’d understand that and probably that’s the most likely next step. I wonder though, how would they feel, to know the whole truth, their little boy has been living with a real little boy (ok so at 27 he’s officially a man sortof). Hurt? Deceived? More curious?
It’s not a question of whether they will love me or not. They will, of course. It’s more a question of how agitated I will be with the whole situation. But what signal does this send to my kids? Do I want them to lie to me? Am I being less than honest? I think we have raised our kids to be responsible and honest with some level of integrity. But this isn’t an honesty question is it.