I can only imagine what this woman, Jack’s mother, must have been thinking as we stared into each other’s eyes. Only moments had passed since Jack came out of the closet and announced me as his boyfriend. Ironically, she dressed as though she should be the one coming out of the closet. In addition to her stonewashed jeans and Walmart button-down, Jack’s mother sported a store-bought perm that was poorly died a still unidentified shade of light brown. I must’ve looked like an alien to her. An impeccably dressed, well-coiffed, gay alien who’d come to steal her child.
“Later, Mom,” Jack interjected. And with that we were off. I don’t believe that the mother or I said another word to each other in the Melrose Park Laundromat. The experience left me stunned, embarrassed and generally uneasy. I never questioned Jack’s actions, however, because I was completely smitten with him. It’s amazing what that feeling of being in love (or even in like) with someone will make you do. I would continue to compromise myself throughout the course of our relationship, often in unimaginable ways.
In the car, I presented Jack with the bouquet of flowers. Although he thanked me, I don’t think he was completely appreciative of the gesture. I didn’t recognize the signs then, but I would later—much later—come to understand that he and I didn’t and don’t have the same values.
I couldn’t say another word, and didn’t until we were back in the City. I was too busy trying to reconcile the awkward exchange that had just occurred. Jack occupied himself by singing along with tune du jour on B96.
As we crossed Belmont, I decided that I couldn’t take any more surprises. I asked Jack to tell me about his father and stepmonster. As he began describing the paternal side of his family, I quickly realized that my introduction to his mother had been cool by comparison to what I was about to encounter. Nothing could have prepared me for the experience of meeting Jack’s TWO dads.
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