DAD: Uh-oh, that doesn't sound good.
MOM: Don't be so negative, Robert. Of course, son, you know you can tell us anything.
ME: So you wont get mad?
MOM: Never at you, sweetheart.
ME: Dad, I need you to give me your word your not going to freak out.
DAD: How can I promise something like that? What if you tell me you've been burying bodies under the back porch? Or lighting cats on fire in the park? I'm going to get mad at something like that weather I want to or not.
MOM: Robert, don't be an ass, just promise him.
DAD: Fine, whatever.
ME: Okay, good enough. First off I want you to know that this is not just some phase I'm going through, I've been thinking about this for a very long time. I must have read about twenty books on the subject and even talked with some of the professors at school. One in particular helped me to see that I would never be happy if I spent my days lying to myself about who I am.
MOM: Who you are? What do you mean, Honey.
ME: Okay. I thought a lot about this moment and I came to the conclusion that just spitting it out is the best way to do it. Mom, Dad.....I'm heterosexual.
DAD: You're what?
MOM: What do you mean?
ME: I mean, that I like women.
MOM: I don't understand. Are you saying you're attracted to women.....sexually?
ME: Yes, Mom. And not just attracted to them, I've actually had a girlfriend for almost six months now.
DAD: A girlfriend! Holy shit, are you kidding me?
MOM: Calm down Robert, lets just talk about this a little. Now, when you say you have a girlfriend, are you referring to a post-op girl, or one that is still in transition?
ME: No Mom, she's a real girl, born with all the girl parts.
MOM: And you.....like that?
DAD: I think I'm going to throw up.
MOM: Hush up, Robert. Where did you meet this girl? Who is she?
ME: Her name is Iliana and she's a Swedish exchange student. She's also a swim suit model, you may have even seen her picture in a few magazines.
DAD: Your dating a Swedish bikini model?
ME: Yeah, I guess so.
DAD: Oh, Christ, where did I go wrong.
MOM: Robert, don't be so negative.
DAD: Don't be so negative? What the hell are you talking about? I raise my son to be a decent, loving, homosexual, and this is how he repays me, by shacking up with some hot bikini model. Oh, Christ, when the guys down at Human Resources find out about this, I'm never going to hear the end of it.
MOM: Oh, it's not that bad, Robert.
DAD: Not that bad? You gotta be kidding. Terry's kid is in a wheelchair. Carl's son identifies as a Furry. Alan, down in accounting, adopted two Asians, and a Pilipino. I heard Linda on the fourth floor is having her daughters skin darkened. And I was suppose to have a gay son, but now it looks like all of that has gone up in smoke because my boy as fallen for some god damn bathing suit model.
ME: There's more.
DAD: More? Oh, shit. Judy, get my smelling salts
ME: I've also converted to Mormonism.
MOM: Oh my.
DAD: Judy, open the window, I'm jumping out.
MOM: Don't be silly, we're on ground level.
DAD: I know, I'm going to try and land on my head.
MOM: Are you sure this is something you've really thought about, Honey? I mean, aren't you worried about the pedophiles?
ME: That's Catholicism. I'm also a grown man. Pedophiles aren't interested in me.
MOM: Oh, don't be so hard on yourself, sweetie. You have a very youthful face.
DAD: I can't believe it. My son, praying to some dummy on a stick and ogling boobies.
MOM: Lay off Robert. You know darn well you're a heterosexual too. Where's your empathy.
DAD: I know I am, and do you think I wanted my son making the same mistake as me? No offence, Judy.
MOM: None taken. Prick.
DAD: It's just that things were so different when I was his age. Identity politics wasn't an issue. Now, if your not a transsexual midget with one leg, or married to your step sister, your going to have a hell of a time succeeding. I just want what's best for him.
MOM: I know, Dear.
DAD: I know why this happened.
ME: Oh, really?
DAD: Yes. It's that damn right-wing college we sent you to. They filled your head with all this traditionalist garbage. They taught you about Jesus and vaginas and all that other straight stuff. You said yourself you spoke to your professor about it and he urged you to go down this path. Bloody Hell, I cant believe I'm paying them nineteen thousand dollars a year to turn my son into some kind of crazy Republican.
I'm Tweeting that school a sternly worded comment of disapproval, right now. Where's my phone?
MOM: Its in your hand. And your not on Twitter, Robert, now calm down.
DAD: I'm sorry, I'm just really thrown for a loop here. When your kids are young you have this picture in your head about how they'll be when they're older, and then when you eventually see just how wrong you are, its a little shocking. I mean, the next thing he's going to tell us is that he's never tried pot.
ME: I haven't, it slows down your thought process.
MOM: Robert, get away from that window. Son, is it serious between you and this girl?
ME: Yes, we're together all the time. It's amazing how much we have in common. For instance, you know how much I love NASCAR, right?
DAD: Don't remind us.
ME: Well, Iliana's dad is a Swedish racing driver who won the 2006 Formula Renault 3.5 Series. He even competes in the Swedish V8 Thundercar Series and part-time in the NASCAR Nationwide Series.
MOM: Wow. I don't know what any of that means, but it sounds lovely.
DAD: What about being bisexual? Have you considered that? I think I could live with that. Nobody at work has a bisexual kid.
ME: No, Dad. I like girls.
DAD: What about a guy in a dress? Your Mom and I once saw a drag show where the guys on stage were so convincing you'd have to look under their gowns to tell what sex they were.
ME: I don't think you're hearing me, Dad. I like women. I love Iliana. I want to marry her when we graduate and start a family.
DAD: By "start a family" do you mean you want to adopt a bunch of African kids? Or maybe one with a birth defect? That might be okay.
ME: We want to have our own children and live our own lives, free of judgement from you and everyone else in this god damn world.
MOM: It's fine, sweetie, we would never judge you.
DAD: I would.
MOM: Robert, if you open your mouth one more time, I'm going to shove my foot in it. Now ether be quiet or go to your safe space and play with your trains.
DAD: I can't, the trains aren't working. I'm still waiting for my operating couplers to arrive.
MOM: Still? You ordered those three weeks ago.
DAD: I know, the company says they were shipped two weeks ago and now it's out of their hands. And the bloody post office is no help.
MOM: You should have had it shipped by UPS.
DAD: Yeah, yeah, I know. I was trying to save money. I guess that old saying about getting what you paid for is correct.
MOM: Let me call them in the morning. You can be a little brash sometimes, I may have better luck.
ME: Hello. I'm still here you know.
MOM: Oh, yes, of course, Honey. What were we talking about.
DAD: Our son is a breeder.
MOM: Oh, yeah, right. Honey, Your father and I love you and will support you no matter what it is you choose to do, or who it is you choose to be. Right Robert?
DAD: Um, well, sure....I guess. I suppose one of your kids could be born with a thumb sticking out of his head, or that weird disease that makes you look really old.
MOM: No. The disease that make you look old is called, Progeria.
DAD: Right. Anyway, what I'm saying is that maybe I shouldn't get too excited about this right now because it may just all work out in the end.
DAD: Yeah, why not.
ME: Thanks Dad, I really wanted to hear you say that.
MOM: Oh, this is so beautiful. Give your father a hug....or is that to gay for you?
ME: I'm not afraid of gays, I'm just not one.
MOM: Good, then give him a hug and lets all go watch Dancing with the Stars.
ME: Thanks Mom.