During my mid-20s, I found myself in a difficult position. Rich and I had already been dating for a few years and we started having conversations about moving in together. Unfortunately, our financial situation was less than ideal. Rich hadn't yet entered the workforce and, though I held a bachelor's degree, I graduated just prior to the Great Recession of 2008. The lack of good-paying jobs meant I was stuck working retail, earning something close to minimum wage. So, when one of his high school friends mentioned that she and her sister were looking for roommates to help offset the cost of an apartment, it seemed like an affordable way to begin our lives together.
I broke the idea to my parents with fear and trepidation. Neither one of them accepted the fact that I was gay. As far as they were concerned, Rich (my "buddy" as they called him) didn't even exist. Add to that the fact that my mother already looked down upon my brother for cohabitating with his then girlfriend, and I could easily picture how they would react.
While our conversation has exited my long-term memory, it went about as well as expected. My mom laid on the Catholic guilt and told me that if I move in with Rich, I would have to pay for my own insurance. Easily swayed and not in a position to go it alone for my insurance, I backed out. Rich still went ahead with his original plan.
For years, I carried a heavy conscience: both about not moving in with Rich at that point and for letting my parents have their way. It didn't help that I was also working against a strict internal deadline. My brother left my parents' house when he was 26, and I didn't want to linger beyond that. While it is now more commonplace for adults to live with their parents well into their twenties and even thirties, I used to envision that the "sweet spot" was 18 to 21, and I had well passed that age.
After the lease ended on the apartment Rich had been sharing, he moved back in with his parents. I felt horrible for playing a contributing role in him taking a step back in his independence. If I had to do things all over again, I would have taken a decisive stand against my parents earlier. Thankfully for us and our relationship, the seeds of change had already been planted.
In July 2011, I invited Rich to spend a night at my parents' house when they were out of town. Truth be told, I snuck him in. My parents had made it abundantly clear he was not welcome. But as far as I was concerned, if they were on vacation, they would be none the wiser. That evening, Rich asked me to dance with him to The Mamas & the Papas version of "Dream a Little Dream."¹ After, he got down on one knee and proposed.
It was a surreal moment. Even though same-sex marriage was still four years away from legalization in the United States, I had dreamt of it for quite some time. Rich and I even discussed it on a number of occasions. It still came as a surprise and, as is often the case in unexpected situations, I chuckled nervously before saying yes. As you might imagine, Rich still jokingly gives me a hard time about the day he proposed and I laughed at him.
To be honest, Rich's proposal, along with our wedding, is one of my happiest memories. Sadly, society being what it was, it ended up being our little secret, both at work and home. It also served as the final push I needed to fly the coop and build a life with Rich.
By this time, I had moved on from retail, but was working in a toxic office environment. My homophobic boss, who sat across a desk from me, listened to conservative talk radio all day and imposed upon me her harmful opinions on everything from her intense dislike of then President Obama, the reasons Ronald Reagan was the best leader ever, how she sympathized with accused sex abuser Jerry Sandusky, why she stands behind Chick-fil-A and how same-sex marriage is an abomination in god/God's eyes.
"My belief, my personal belief, is that..." was a common phrase that often preceded one of her frequent racist, xenophobic or homophobic comments. Even the company vice president expressed his disgust about the idea of same-sex marriage. Needless to say, not only did I not feel comfortable wearing my ring at work, I deemed it necessary to remain in the closet the entire three-and-a-half years I worked there.
Meanwhile, Rich avoided wearing his ring around his parents. His dad likely wouldn't have taken issue with it, but his mom (who has since welcomed me into the family) held on to her deeply ingrained homophobic beliefs. For my part, I was terrified of how my own parents would react, but I decided I would leave my ring on around them and see what they said. A short period passed with no reaction. One day, my dad pulled me aside. He told me my mother and he had noticed my ring, didn't approve, and that I wasn't allowed to wear it while living under their roof or in their presence.
Several emotions ran through my mind: anger, shame, embarrassment. I felt as if I had been caught doing something wrong; except that I hadn't. So deeply did this affect me that, for years, I had nightmares where I would go to visit my parents and forget to remove my ring. The real shame is the fact that my parents put me in a situation where I experienced these feelings to begin with.
In the months that followed, I grew increasingly angry with my parents' stubborn inability to accept my relationship with Rich. We resumed discussions about moving in together. Aside from both being employed, we were no better off financially. But, this time, armed with newfound anger from my parents' rejection, I was determined to make it a reality. That October, we signed a lease and never looked back.
And that, kids, is how Rich and I finally moved in together.
What about the saga with my parents? As you might guess from my other blog posts, it didn't end happily. I gave them 10 years to turn a new leaf, but they remained steadfast in their hatred. I suppose I should have taken the hint when they advised me they would only come to see Rich's and my apartment if he (my "buddy") wasn't there. Instead, I clung to the belief that I just needed to give them time to adjust and realize that same-sex relationships are no different than straight ones.
The unfortunate and harsh reality is that sometimes, for reasons that are entirely out of your control, family members can do, say or believe harmful things. And they may refuse to let go of the biases that cause them to act in this manner. This is in no way your fault, nor is it your responsibility to fix it. It's okay to hold on to a sliver of hope for eventual change, but don't allow it to run your life for years as I did.
Notes:
¹ "Dream a Little Dream" is indirectly "our" song, even though Rich strongly dislikes it.
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