Mom and Dad.
In the 33 years that I have been lucky enough to be around, I have never known them to NOT be concerned. I think that's probably what best makes them the greatest parents I could ask for. It also makes them the most frustrating, but you take the good with the bad.
They probably say the same about me. Definitely more good than bad. Like 95% good, 5% bad. (depending on the day, or who you ask.) I am - to be fair - pretty damn good. I banged the car up once - that they know of - and beyond that, little else trouble came their way from this guy here. I got good grades, I was afraid to party ever in high school (bad kids did that) and I live on my own and have held down a job steadily. What parent could ask for anything more for their kid? Sure, I could have been Vice President or something, but that would only cause more worry from them, and I didn't want to do that.
So, I started a blog instead of joining the 2012 ticket. ("Let Joe Biden have those photo ops instead," I said to no one.)
But when I started the blog, they reacted in different ways. Essentially supportive, (Dad more so than Mom. I think Mom didn't understand the concept of my blog, or the humor of the title at the time.) they seemed to be happy that I was writing again. Writing has been a passion of mine since I was pretty little. I was always writing stories and had a way with words, I guess. I made my own newspapers when I was in grade school out of Disney magazines. Cut and paste. It was an early lesson for when I would be doing storyboards in high school and using spray mount. Spray mount, by the way, is the worst thing to come out of a spray can. The first being Aqua Net hairspray that my sister used growing up.
The point is: I haven't written professionally in 10 odd years or so in any real way. And I have missed it deeply and I kind of locked that truth away about myself. No one who really knows me now as a person had known that my passion is writing. New friends were surprised to know that I even had once been a writer. (It's true. I got paid for it more than once and everything.)
So, as I told my parents the Sunday after I launched this blog, they seemed happy for me for doing something I love. But ... then they read it. They have read the blog. And I did and still do want them to read this blog.
"Yep, I'm Gay," said Ellen Degeneres and also me. Yet, this blog is about 50 billion things other than being gay. I am so much more than "Gay." This blog - well, you should really go back to the first post if you don't understand by now what this blog is all about. (Um, please go back and read. I have reservations now about you.)
The point is: Regardless of what the blog is called, I wanted my parents to understand the blog. I wanted them to get it. AND they got it all right!
"Well, it's just a lot of you, you know?"
"Yes it is. It's kind of the point. The blog is titled "I am so gay... I is in the title. Me. So, yes, it's about me." (By the way - did anyone here me say, "I is in the title?" It's like I am so rough - a real character from the streets, you know? Seriously! Do not mess with me!)
After I kind of, quietly, defended why I am writing about me ("write what you know"), Mom said, "well, can't it be about someone else? Some of your friends? There are a lot of crazies out there."
This was the part of our phone call I loved the most. We laughed a lot during the chat, but I laughed a lot during this part. Her implication and then downright detailed point is: people are nuts and don't let them know who you are!
Ok, here we go! I live in NYC. It's a big city. Lots of people. And we get to see a lot of these people. So, it should be no surprise to anyone that I have had interesting encounters with people in this big city, right? Right.
The best interaction recently may have been when I literally had a person step off a subway train, look right at me, knock the hardcover book I was reading out of my hand and watched it fall onto the subway tracks. It had been an early birthday present to myself. The book, not the crazy man who glared at me and knocked a book out of my possession. It was Mindy Kaling's brand new book, and I went from laughing, and in the next moment to almost crying. Life is like that. Laughs then tears. So, yes, Mom, I know there are some crazies out there.
And if you need further proof, Mom, that I know there are crazies - here is the scene of the crime:
I loved that book, too. Why would someone do this to me? So, I bought the book again. So, Mindy Kaling - enjoy those double book sales. Think of me when you sit on that pile of money. I actually think you are amazing - so literally, Mindy - please think of me when you sit on your pile of money. I would be honored. As would the man from the subway! He would be honored by you thinking of the two of us as you sit on your pile of money. Jeff and I would be honored.
Did I forget to mention that he and I talked after he knocked my book out of my hands deliberately and with hate? It was just one of the classic "how a couple meets" stories that could only happen in the movies. We fell in love and our wedding date will be next Fall. I'm kidding. I would never be married by next Fall. That is too much time wasted. I'm a "no time but the present" kind of dude. Get the good ones before they run off. But, I digress.
Mom and Dad felt that maybe this blog was maybe a little too revealing. I did manage to extract from them during the chat, though, that they did think my writing was funny. Yes! - they actually laughed out loud when reading my blog. YES! YES! YES! Well, Mom admitted to laughing. I think Dad may have, but reservations were overshadowing the pure joy.
So, it was a good with the bad type of situation. I made my parents laugh (and hopefully you, too. What? Now I have to worry about you, too. Nooooo!!) Oh, the concerns!
And two of my closest friends who, for the sake of anonymity have insisted I use fake names for them. So, my two closest friends - let's say Delilah and Drake. No - that's too real sounding. Let's call them Jill and John. That's more exotic sounding. No way those names could be real. So, Jill and Drake - I mean Jill and John - said they kind of agreed with my parents. And they were shocked I wanted my parents to read this blog.
Now, dear reader, I know I'm "Gay." The blog is oh so comedically titled about that. But, I'm not exactly telling you all about the crazy weird things gays do - such as kiss in the same exact way straight couples do. Nope, I have shied away from such dangerous and threatening topics. I won't even talk about who opens the door at a restaurant.
But, despite reserving these topics for Season 5 of my TV show (when we have lost all direction for the characters and I travel to wild places after winning the lottery), people in my life still had their concerns. Oh, and Delilah and John ...oops, nope Jill and John.... had concerns as well. So, that was 4 - four! - people who had concerns. And, in my life, four people are a lot. It was time to think about this.
So, what did I do? Well, I wrote on the blog naturally. Because I have never been more creative or excited in the past 10 years since college - and it's because of this! Because I am writing and making my parents laugh. Because I'm getting to share my experiences and thoughts with people. I mean, in some sick way, you have to laugh out loud at the thought of some crazy ninja jumping off the downtown F train at Jay Street at the rush hour commute home and going A-YA! and throwing my book against the train car and watching it slide onto the tracks. I mean - who else could that happen to? But me! And I get to share it with the world. Which is kind of awesome. And yes, the man from the subway (who is the sweetest fiancee a girl could hope for) did dress nothing like the Night Rogue Ninja below. But it would have been a better story for me if he had dressed this way on the way home from work. Or maybe if he had just apologized for deliberately knocking the book out of my hand and also for glaring at me afterwards? An apology for doing something deliberate would have been at least a cherry on the sundae of crap he gave to me on that day.
So, my blog followers: I may be too revealing from time to time. Or, in the case of my parents and my two friends, I may be revealing with every ... single ... word ... I ... type. But, I'm exposing truth, life, and humor, and yes - myself. I like to think there are things we can learn, not just about me, but also how we feel every day.
We need to look at the best of things, not the worst. Yes, someone could look at this blog - this contribution to conversation - and turn it negative. But, who hasn't met that loser at a party who manages to turn something really fun into something ... less fun. (I have been guilty of that myself. Don't you dare tell me you know more about James Bond than me! I will cut you, person I barely know. I've had three drinks and an obsession with a super spy. Just try me!)
So, yes. People could look at this blog and judge. Or write something mean. Or not like me. Or every single one of you could love me. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE. (God, get a room already!) And I hope you do love this blog. I have loved every single minute of this so far. I love making people laugh. I love making myself laugh. And I love writing again best of all.
Hopefully, once I have made billions of dollars (and we all know how lucrative comedy blogging is), my parents' reservations will subside and we can all have a fun chuckle about this. And if not, and my fiancee shows up, angry that I am trying to read again, hopefully we can find a way to laugh about that, too. Because that's what I want us to do. Laugh a little. But, don't ever think you know more about James Bond than me. I think we've proven that little point already. Mwahahaha!
Love,
Me
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