I'll be homo for Christmas.

(Originally published 12/16/2005)

I will be throwing myself to the lions via Northwest Airlines next week. I am going home for Christmas. Being the only grandchild on my father’s side who does not have children I am constantly subjected to questioning in regards to why I am still single and have not spawned at the rate of my cousins and my sister (there are nine kids under the age of 8 between the five of them). My grandmother cannot even work a microwave so the concept of me being a homosexual has probably never crossed her mind. My aunts and uncles must know but more than likely feel some sort of pity for my parents for having raised such an outcast. Although I’ve never discussed it with them, my cousins are on to me.

Although it would be highly amusing, I have never considered "coming out" over a festive turkey dinner. Perhaps if I felt some resentment towards my family I would do this in a second. My immediate family knows, however I think that my father would have a stroke and die face-first in the green bean casserole. My sister would simply go catatonic which would ruin Christmas for my neice and nephews. She wouldn’t be very handy assembling the Santa Claus display if she was off in the corner sitting motionless with a puddle of drool in her lap. There was an understanding when I came out at 18 between my parents, my sister, and myself. Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone else.

Of all six grandkids on that side of the family, I am the only one who does not live within ten miles of where I was born. So over time my cousins have all bonded over the fact that they’re all practically neighbors and they meet up frequently to discuss topics such as having gotten married too young and what it’s like to have children before you can even legally rent a car (this is what I assume they talk about). No one would dare come right out and ask me, however I envision them sitting around and talking about me and my bone-smoking ways.

"I asked him if he watched ‘Will and Grace’ the other night. He said that he didn’t. What a liar!"

"I wonder what his drag name is."

"Maybe he could could help me highlight my hair."

What bothers me most about being the only single person within our pack of offspring is that even if I did have a boyfriend my cousins would never know about it. I have loved 2 men in my life and those 2 men loved me back (not like that one-sided relationship a**hole Rob Thomas). So not only do they think I’m a social reject, they also think that I’m a social reject who can’t find a date.

"So, are you dating anyone?" they might ask.

"So, will your husband still f*ck you even though you haven’t lost any of that baby fat?" I reply.

But Christmas is about letting your family know that you’re still up and running. Parents and Grandparents like to take stock on their bloodline. So my sitting on my grandmother’s sofa listening to screaming children, dodging personal questions, and jonesing for a cigarette and a beer is my contribution to the family lineage. It’s all part of the inventory straight people like to take on their heritage. Here is my family. Here is my reason for having been put on this planet. Kind of like how the gays like to count how many pairs of shoes they have (I have sixteen!).

Anyway, I’m sure that in my abscense my neice has at some point outed me. She’s fond of announcing at the most awkward moments that "Uncle Tony likes boys." She’s going to make a terrific fag hag someday. I can’t wait to teach her about Madonna and how to make a Gin and Tonic.