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This is a question Turning into your parents

Unable to hold back the genetic tide, I find myself gardening in my carpet slippers, asking for a knife and fork in McDonalds and agreeing with the Daily Telegraph. I'm beyond help - what about you?

Thanks to b3th for the suggestion

(, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 13:39)
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Dad's Gaydar
Now, my dad's a manly man - an ex foundry worker who's hard as fuck. He's from a different era. He doesn't, how can I put this, have much of an appreciation for those who bat for the otherside. He's not homophobic, as such, he just doesn't hang round with gay people - at all. Ever.

When I was a teenager I had my mate Greg round at my place. Being teenage boys we staied up late, watching Channel 4, waiting for the dirty foreign movie to come on so we could advance our admittedly limited knowledge and understanding of the female nipple - and hopefully if we were really lucky - the lady gash area we were so fucking interested in.

Greg and I got a bit bored watching The Word (how I fucking hated that Manc twat), and - being responsible, mature sixteen year olds, started having a bit of a playfight. We were making an awful racket.

Greg was screaming: "Argggggghhhhh! Gettoff!!! You're hurting me!!!"

And my dad, who was walking past, burst into my bedroom -

to find me laying on top of Greg on the bed, pinning his arms down, stuffing his face into the duvet with my chest... It looked very much, to the untrained eye, like I was fucking Greg roughly up the dirtpipe.

My dad took one look and fucked off. And the next day he took me down to the working mens club for a manly chat about man stuff.

"Err, son... I know your hormones are raging... Erm... What I'm trying to say is... Do you like boys?"

I had to think about that.

"Err, yes."

My dad nearly spat his pint out through his nose. "I mean, do you really like ... erm... boys???"

I twigged. I laughed. "No, dad. I don't," I said.

He bought me a pint and a top notch, high quality, glossy jazz mag on the way home; just to reaffirm my hunter-gather, loin-cloth-wearing, Bo-Derek-in-a-skimpy-wet-bikini-fucking heterosexuality, bless him.

And that was my 'are you a big homo' talk.

And how am I turning into my dad?

Well, a few weeks ago I let my gay mate Chris use my flat when I was away for the weekend. I was sat in the pub with him afterwards:

"Now, Chris - I know you love the cock," I said. Chris nodded in agreement. "But I'd rather, in future you, well... you know... in my flat..."

Chris looked pissed off.

"Oh, it's like that is it - you know I'm a raging queen, Spanky," said Chris, sipping his Guiness. And for a moment I felt like my old man, a bit of a biggot with a small 'b', a bit of an old fashioned arsehole. But, no - I had a point to make. I pressed on.

"No - its not that, mate," I said. "Its just if you borrow my flat in future and bring your boyfriend round, can you at least change the fucking bedsheets? There was shit all over the place, man..."
(, Tue 5 May 2009, 23:59, 1 reply)
good work!
(, Wed 6 May 2009, 8:06, closed)

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