Hold your breath...

Well, not much has happened since I posted last.

It's sort of anticlimactic, really. Not that I was hoping for major drama or big scenes, but the entire matter seems to have dropped entirely. Dad's never said a word to me, never acted differently or tried an awkward segue into the 'is there something you want to tell me' speech.

That night, after he'd gone out to cut grass and my Mom had returned home, I made small talk with her until I could rehash the story. As I started talking, I said how upset I was getting with the way he was referring to gays in general, and that was why I asked him what his problem was.

"Well, it's not like he knows, I mean he's not being mean to you intentionally..." she said.

"Oh, ok, so if he calls a black person a nigger, but not to their face, that's OK too?" I shot back. I was astounded at how she was taking his side, and basically saying that he wouldn't say such things if he knew I was gay. That still, in my mind, does not excuse a word of the slanderous bullshit he said.

After I finished telling her everything, she asked, "So, does that mean you 'told him', that you'd came out to him?"

"Far from it," I said, then asked if she though he'd have picked up on the implications and my not answering his 'are you telling me you're gay' question.

She seems to think he's 'intuitive' and that the notion is now planted in his mind, that he'll think about it for a few days and then ask her something about it. "That's the way he is," she said, "he'll think to himself for a while first."

"Well, that's why I'm telling you all this now," I said, "in case he turns around and asks you. I didn't want you to be caught off guard about it."

We then talked for the better part of an hour. She's decided that she's good with talking about it with him and that should he ask, she's not going to hide anything. "I think it would be best, and besides, I can't lie to him about it," she said. I agreed, thinking that if she knew him like she should, then he would probably come asking her about it.

Discussion turned to how he might react, how the family at large might find out, how we can't tell the grandparents or fear excommunication, and how the 'small town community' might talk. "But we're pretty independent anyway," she said, "so that part shouldn't really matter."

At the end, I was still shaken by the whole thing, but at the same time I felt a little positive. This might be it, I thought, finally I'll be out to those most important to me. I fantasized about the weight being lifted from my shoulders, of not having to endure the subtle questions from family and from Dad about 'having a girlfriend'.

But after that night, nothing else happened. He's never asked her anything, and never made any attempt to talk to me about it.

It's a little awkward for me, because I can feel myself pushing away from him, trying to put distance between us. For the first few days afterward, the pink elephant in the room loomed larger than ever. I could barely stand in the same room with him and not feel uncomfortable and worried.

And so life has gone for the past week, with me wondering when he's going to ask, or if he even clued in at all.