is that they are so predictably unpredictable.
Take, for instance, the coming out experience.
My girlfriend, who was only ever referred to as my boyfriend to my parents, was slated to meet them for the first time as we were leaving the country. L.A. was our hello-goodbye pit-stop before our one-way flight to Tokyo. Because my girlfriend was newly into her transition and she felt weird about the whole, “Nice to meet you, I’m actually a transsexual, please use my new name with correct pronoun as your daughter and I are moving halfway across the globe in six days” introduction, we decided to skip her coming out to my parents.
Oh parents…I suppose I wanted to keep this pre-move visit simple. After all, I am that person who came out to them during a rare winter vacation stay, on Christmas Eve, many years ago when I was in a lesbian relationship. Well, impulsively coming out to one’s not-so-socially-liberal family after holiday dinner probably wasn’t the smartest thing, especially regarding the crossroads of my expectations and their reactions.
My father: That’s abnormal, immediately followed by his leaving the dinner table and heading upstairs. Case closed, i.e. I am not talking about this, i.e. if I ignore this it will go away? This non-acknowledgement continued for quite a few years.
My mother: I always suspected something like this was happening (really?!). Why didn’t you talk about this sooner? (hmm…maybe for the same reason that you couldn’t bring it up as well?). Well, you really shouldn’t rush into anything (ok, duly noted).
After that long-term relationship ended, my mother had this to say: I always had doubts, felt you were unhappy and knew it wasn’t going to last (awesome, appreciate the honesty after the fact).
Fast forward to October 2012, we’ve been in Tokyo for a couple months and I (with the help of omnipresent Facebook) decide it’s time to have the my BF is a transsexual talk. My mother doesn’t take the news so well; I am informed via email that she needs to stop communicating with me until she has finished processing and please don’t tell your father about this. Okay…
A few months after that, my mother started emailing me again, noticeably excluding the girlfriend from all conversations and I figure my dad is still none the wiser.
Oh, the parentals.