A young man`s coming out to his parents.

“Mom, dad… I think I might be… you know. Please don’t be mad.”

Great coming out. I couldn’t even whip up enough courage to say it, but they understood anyway.

“That’s fine my boy!” she said.

“Son, don’t let someone else make your life’s choices!” he said.

“We only want you to be happy!” they said, and they probably meant it. My parents are pretty liberal, but I could see that they pitied me, their sad smiles betraying their true feelings. The way dad stroked mom’s head, it was all so obvious: I would never have the bliss they had, and they pitied me.

I said nothing and left. God I was such a, such a... UH! Couldn't I just accept their words and ignore the rest? I didn't want this. I didn't want those eyes on me. I wanted to be alone, wanted to be, where I couldn't see those sad smiles, where I wouldn't be reminded that I wasn't like others, but I couldn't escape. They were all over the city: happy couples! Some college boy taking his girl out for a stroll; a banker babe leading her boy-toy into a cafe; some neighbor with his wife and their pet; all of them smiling of course, enjoying their soap opera life. It was not for me, it would never be for me; though sometimes I wished it was.

I mean I had been to all those… special places in town. Even tried to meet someone there, but it never worked out. You know the kind of bar with the bright lights, cheerful colors and happy music, that normal people stare at and giggle. The kind of bar, that caters to… to people like me, I guess, but I didn’t feel at home there either. This wasn’t the scene I was used to and it made me uncomfortable. You know, my mom and dad, they looked so happy, when they were together. All my old friends from school already had found someone to whom they felt they belonged. Some had even done it and taken the promise. They were all happy and together, but not me. I was twenty-six, had finished college, and I still didn’t know what I wanted, or maybe I feared to admit what I wanted. Either way, I was alone.

There are even self-help groups for people like us. The churches set them up. The few friends, who knew about me, about my... my preferences, had said that I shouldn’t go. That I shouldn’t let anyone tell me that the way I chose to live is wrong, that I'm wrong. That’s what they tell you; believe me, I’ve been there. It makes you feel like shit.

You know, when I go to the cinema, and there is this happy couple sitting in front of me, well him sitting anyways, and she is smiling up at him with that blissful smile? Of course it makes me wish I was normal, too.

Or the time I met an old friend from school at the mall and she was leading her boyfriend around and he had this tower of stuff piled up on his arms. Her smile was so beautiful and she was practically dancing, as she picked this and that from the shelves. I really wished that it was me with her that day and not that bloke. But she was smiling only for him. Of course it made me wish I was normal. But I'm not. I could never be that guy.

I mean, that mischievous smile of hers said it all. She was going to pile up more and more junk on her poor boyfriend until he practically had to drop something, only to give her a pretext to spank him or something. I wouldn’t know. I could never… you know… spank the girl I love, or tie her up if she has been naughty or gag her when she is nagging. I don’t enjoy subbing either, for that matter. I’m just not wired that way.

Mom and dad, I’m vanilla.

Written by Satan_Klaus

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