Dear Pop, a catch-up

Dear Pop,

It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. It feels like a decade; it’s been 3 years (and two months and four days) since you left. So much has happened in that time... I’m like a totally different person now... There’s so much I want to catch you up on: The Midnight Cat is now a permanent fixture in my home, I’m living with Janek now (and three others), I’ve resigned from one job and have another one now, and I’m having one of these blog posts published in a book in April.

So for a start, I turned twenty-six on Monday. I am now officially hurtling towards the outer edge of the “mid-twenties”. When you were twenty-six, it was 1940. You were married, had a daughter and another on the way, and (or so I thought when I was little) the world was eerily in black and white. You were working full-time, a fully qualified draftsman in a small firm in Martin Place in the city, living with your wife and daughter at your parents’ place in Hammond Ave. You were soon to leave for Port Moresby in the Royal Australian Air Force during the war. When my dad was twenty-six, it was 1981. He had already been married for three years, though I wasn’t to come onto the scene for another three. What is it about thinking of you and Dad as young men my age that makes me feel vaguely inadequate? The trippy thing is that the twenties are generally regarded as “the best years of your life”—full of parties, live bands, sex, drugs, alcohol, and very little responsibility—and that’s where I am (though without some of these features, admittedly). This is where you were in 1940!

So Janek and I took the plunge and moved in together. After The Proposal, it was kind of a foregone conclusion that we would eventually move somewhere together, since our respective leases ended at the same time. They were due to finish in November, but we were lucky enough to find a room in a sharehouse without really trying. We moved in during October. It was interesting. I suddenly had half as much space as I was used to, with twice as many things to cram into it. Janek, God bless him, has been incredibly patient with my messy tendencies and has even promised not to clean up my stuff because when he does I can never find anything. He has revoked this promise twice thus far, when it got too much for him to ignore.

We live with three other people: The Child, The Writer and The Clubber. The Child is gay, twenty, totally incompetent in that fresh-out-of-home way, and totally annoying on a daily basis. He doesn’t do the dishes without being asked, doesn’t clean the bathroom or kitchen at all, and his personality grates on me. The Clubber is the only girl in the house, so she has the bedroom with the ensuite. She’s a lot of fun and we really get on well together. The Writer is my favourite. He's straight, my age, and works by day as an accountant. He’s like Clark Kent in that way: at night he is a party animal and a writer, working on a novel and writing short stories. He’s amazing and great to be around.

The fourth roomie is the queen of us all. I am referring, of course, to The Midnight Cat. After we moved I missed her terribly. I even cried on a few occasions because I missed her evening cuddles. Though by the time I moved she was spending most of her time either with me or Janek, technically she wasn’t ours so we had to make the difficult decision to leave her behind. One Saturday, I arrived home and was greeted by Janek’s enormous grin. “Guess what!” He said, beaming, “I have a surprise for you!” I was about to ask what it was when I saw a movement in the kitchen, just behind his left shoulder. I focused my vision. The Midnight Cat meowed and sauntered over to me. It turned out that Janek had been driving home, feeling miserable after spending the weekend with his family, when he decided to stop by the old place because he wanted to see her. She materialised at the sound of the car’s engine, Janek picked her up, chucked her into the back seat, and drove her here. We called the owners, of course, and were told they hadn’t seen her in three months, and had assumed she’d found a new home. She had. She now rules the house with an iron paw, which she swipes at The Child when he gets too close to her. You’d like her. I know that everyone thinks their cat is the best, but mine totally is.

I resigned from my job a month ago. After clashing heads with someone else in the organisation, Ada, my (former) manager resigned in November. I was determined not to resign on a knee-jerk, in perverse solidarity with Ada, although I did know deep down that my time there was numbered. Janek begged me to resign months before I actually did, always asking me “Did you resign today?” when I got home. It was starting to affect my health and I knew I couldn’t work there any further, which is very sad because until recently, it was my dream job. Ultimately, I clashed heads with the same person and resigned. That day was contacted by a lady at uni that I have worked with in a voluntary capacity and she offered me some casual work over the next few weeks. I have since got a little more, and though it’s all short-term contact work, so it likely won’t last, it’s a step in the right direction. The pay is better, the people are nicer, and I’m really enjoying it.

Finally, I have some big news. I received an email in October from an editor at a publisher, asking if I would give permission to publish one of my blog posts—“Reality and Truth”—in an anthology. I said yes, if I could combine it with another post—“Retraction”—and it was accepted. I’m currently trying to write a short bio… It’s really, really hard! I can easily spurt out 1000 words, like this little letter, but for some reason I seem incapable of only 150.

I miss you. I love you. I still want to call you up and talk to you, tell you everything that’s been going on. I just tried your telephone number, in fact, and it rang. I want to know who has your phone number now, but I chickened out and hung up after one ring.

Well I should get to bed. Night.

Dan x

Mixed signals

It seems my worry was somewhat justified. After the resounding success of the meeting-of-the-grandparents the other week, things took a surprising turn.

I called Grandma on Friday (three days after the meeting) and, after a respectable amount of small talk I asked the question... “So, what do you think of Janek?” “Oh,” she said, “He’s a lovely boy!” We chatted briefly about him before I swallowed hard and took the plunge:

“Would it be ok if Janek came to family day?”
“Oh, well darling, I don’t think that would be appropriate. Family day is exclusively for family. He can come to the barbecue for your grandpa’s birthday, of course, because anyone can come to that.”

I was more than a little stunned. Asking permission to bring a partner to family day is like a right of passage. All my other cousins have done it. And, to my knowledge, all my other cousins have been given permission. After Grandma reached out to me the other week and asked to meet Janek, I genuinely wasn’t expecting her to say no. In retrospect, perhaps I shouldn’t have been so optimistic. The issue is that, unlike Janek, the boyfriends and girlfriends of my cousins are all welcome.

“Right.” I said. “Will Alex and Mary be there?”
“Oh yes, I think so. U1 said they should all be coming, except Bee I think, she’s working...” At this point Grandma rattled off a shopping list like account of who would be coming. She either missed my point entirely or chose to ignore it.

I was confused not so much because permission was denied (I may not like it, but I am realist enough to know that gay couples aren’t going to be accepted right off the bat in this family), but because of the mixed signals from Grandma: first she says she wants to meet him, then she meets him and says what a “lovely boy” he is, then this. The other factor in all this, of course, is Grandpa. He is the source of mixed signals here.

After deliberation with Lala and Dad, we believe that it was Grandma who wanted to meet Janek, and Grandpa went along because she asked/told him to. My Grandpa often tows the line, does what he is asked to do, all to make Grandma happy. I think that’s what happened here; he didn’t particularly want to face the possibility that I have a (male) partner, but was forced into the coffee date. Then Grandma would have said that Janek is coming to his birthday barbecue and again he probably gave in because he didn’t want to upset Grandma. But though he does these things he doesn’t necessarily want to do, he puts his foot down when it is really important to him. Family Day is important to him. So that’s the theory.

Now, it would make sense to just ask them what happened, particularly Grandma with her mixed signals, but I don’t want to rock the boat any more than Grandpa does.

Well that wasn't so bad...

It’s happened before, and I am certain it will happen again, but tonight’s meeting left me with the distinct feeling of “was that it?”

It was a little anti-climactic I have to admit, though in the cold light of rationality I don’t know what I thought would happen that would be so horrible. Even if my grandparents’ reaction was totally negative, they are intelligent pragmatic people and they wouldn’t have made a scene in public.

We were waiting outside the coffee shop. I was freaking out, visibly, while Janek was probably freaking out internally but putting on an incredibly admirable brave face for my benefit. I saw them walking towards us and then was faced the awkward situation of having made eye contact, and waving, when there was a good twenty metres between us. That way I stood awkwardly until they got close. I introduced Janek, he shook Grandma and Grandpa’s hand and we sat down. It was a little awkward when I went inside to buy coffee and John didn’t know whether to follow me or stay with them, but in the end he followed me.

The chat was somewhat superficial but it was wonderful nonetheless. It only lasted for about half an hour because they had somewhere to be, and so did Janek and I, but it was an introduction. Now when he comes to the barbecue he will already have his foot in the door as far as they’re concerned.

I can now go to bed and catch up on all the sleep I missed out on last night due to worrying.

The Grandparents

I have just officially come out to my grandmother. And, by extension, my grandfather.

This freaks me out no end.

On Sunday, most of the extended family (on Mum’s side) met for lunch at my grandparents’ local RSL. Sister and I travelled there together on the train (she is now living in the inner-west too) and met Mum and Dad there. Grandma and Grandpa were sitting at the table in the restaurant, waiting, when we arrived. Shortly after, my parents arrived too.

After hugs, kisses and small talk, we got down to the serious business of gift exchange. I gave Dad his card and his gift (two DVDs with more blood and guts than you can poke a stick at) and I gave Grandpa his card, explaining that being a poor student I couldn’t afford to get him a gift until pay-day on Friday, but that I would sort something out soon. The two cards were made by my friend’s boyfriend, Kristan, and featured photos of his artworks. Grandma was very impressed with the beautiful photo on Grandpa’s card, so she picked up Dad’s to have a look. Then she read inside it. I would have been a little more reluctant to show off Kristan’s artistic genius had I remembered that the card to Dad was signed from both Janek and I.

Grandma closed the card, placed it on the table and then leaned in to talk to me as privately as possible in a crowded RSL.
Grandma: So this Janek… He’s your boyfriend, yes?
Me: Ummm… yeh.
Grandma: Well I would have liked for you to tell me yourself, rather than just leave me to find out.
Me: Well I figured you already knew, or had worked it out yourself.
Grandma: Oh, Daniel, I did already know. I knew before you did! I knew when you were fifteen!
Me: Well then what’s the problem? Besides, it seems everyone knew around then except me anyway.
Grandma: Well we’re having a barbecue for Grandpa’s birthday in October. You can bring him then to meet everyone.
Me: You can meet him on Tuesday. (Grandma and I had already arranged to meet for coffee on Tuesday because she and Grandpa will be in the city)
Grandma: Oh that would be lovely.

That was the end of the conversation, as my three year old cousin successfully fought for, and won, Grandma’s attention.

As we were leaving the restaurant, Mum grabbed my hand and practically dragged me into another room and then demanded what had been said, because all she heard was Grandma use the word “boyfriend”. I relayed the conversation to her, and then repeated myself when Dad joined us and said conspiratorially, “what’s all this secrecy going on here?” I told them I was more than a little nervous about the boyfriend-meets-grandparents scenario, but they assured me it would be fine as long as all spandex, feather boas and high heels were left at home. I promised them to dress in drab colours and look disinterested like heterosexuals and they said that was the perfect look to go for. At least they have a sense of humour.

I called Grandma from the train on Monday to confirm our coffee date and confirm that Janek could make it. I then had a mild panic attack. I texted a few people in what I hope wasn’t a too transparent grope for validation and got many lovely and reassuring messages back, including one from Dad that said “Just say hi…this is janek…then ask about their day…fill up time with small talk and don’t feel compelled to explain too deeply…and smile…love you”. I wrote back and asked what he wanted me to refrain from saying, what went in where or something, but he never answered me.

Two hours later I received a voicemail from Mum saying much the same thing, that I should introduce Janek as “my friend” not “my boyfriend”, that I should relax, make sure Janek gave Grandpa a good manly, firm handshake, and whatever I do, don’t explain too deeply. I was genuinely at a loss as to what this whole explanation thing that they were so scared about was so I called her. First I told her that I was planning on introducing Janek as “This is Janek”. I said that there’s no need to qualify his relationship to me because everyone already knows he’s my boyfriend, but that I certainly wasn’t going to try to minimise it with the label of “friend” when he isn’t. I agreed with the handshake and added I would make sure he’s well dressed too. Then I asked what she meant by not explaining too deeply (leaving out the question I had asked Dad by SMS). “Well,” she said, “don’t go too much into gayness”. I laughed. I knew what she meant by the way she said it was hilarious.

So that’s where we stand at the moment. This whole business will take place at 6pm tonight. I’ll keep you all posted.

Couples are couples?

As of yesterday, same-sex couples are considered couples by Centrelink, the Australian social security agency. Isn’t that lovely, my friends, that Centrelink has deigned to “recognise” (their word, not mine) same-sex couples who are living in a de facto arrangement in exactly the same way as their heterosexual counterparts?

The Australian Government has introduced wide-ranging reforms that recognise all couples, regardless of the sexual orientation or gender of a partner... From 1 July 2009 changes to legislation will mean that customers who are in a same-sex de facto relationship will be recognised as partnered for Centrelink and Family Assistance Office purposes. All customers who are assessed as being a member of a couple will have their rate of payment calculated in the same way. (Source)

The Minister for Human Services, Sen Joe Ludwig, even has the gall to describe Centrelink’s changes as “the next step to equality for the gay and lesbian community begins” (Source). There has been an extensive advertising campaign run since 30 March, when Centrelink’s “couples are couples” campaign was launched. It cost taxpayers $450,000, probably paid for in its entirety by the savings Centrelink is sure to make by this move (Source). Forms have been changed and now everyone is reminded, when asked if they have a partner, that this also includes same-sex couples and in the case of student allowances, asked about everyone they live with, rather than only being asked about people of the opposite sex like they did before the start of the new financial year.

Am I the only who can smell the stench of false magnanimity in all this?

Many reforms have been passed so that same-sex couples are treated in the same way as opposite-sex couples in areas of tax, superannuation, social security and the like, it is true. This is a wonderful gain, I don’t deny it, but there is one major privilege that has been expressly left off the table: marriage. So, ultimately, the government is saying that GLBT Australians are good enough to tax as a couple, good enough to receive couples rates of social security (which are pitiful compared to singles rates), but apparently we are NOT good enough to marry.

Why should we, I say, accept the burden of equality (as the Attorney General puts it) in having reduced pensions and allowances because our relationships are suddenly recognised, when in actuality, they aren’t recognised in any meaningful way at all. Attorney General Robert McLelland has gone on record to say that legislative changes that seek to remove discrimination against same-sex couples are “overdue” but, mere breaths later, he hastens to remind any right-wingers reading that “the government regards marriage as being between a man and a woman and we don't support any measures that seek to mimic that process” (Source). The attorney-general’s department has set up a website, www.ag.gov.au/samesexreform, to explain the reforms but it is eerily silent on marriage.

Don’t be fooled. The Australian Government doesn’t really care for equality or for making the lives of same-sex couples easier. It cares about votes. If this were actually about human rights or equality, then all discrimination would be removed and, however you choose to couch it, whether in financial, religious or political language, the phrase “marriage is understood as between one man and one woman” discriminates against an already vulnerable section of the community.

The proposal, part 3... coming soon

I had many emails, SMS, IMs, facebook messages, tweets and smoke signal messages from friends and readers asking me what happened next. What, they ask, is this “fallout” that you allude to? Was it really that bad? Surely there was no radioactivity involved?

I will finish it off soon, I promise, but I’ve been snowed under in a pile of snotty tissues of late and my head really isn’t prepared for thinking of anything more complex than “must sleep”.

Love is...

And now for something nauseatingly soppy that I've been meaning to post for a few weeks but have never got around to it.

Love is...

• driving me to work, simply because I was lazy and slept in
• picking me up from work when I’m sick
• cooking me dinner when I’m sick and/or doing exams (and/or procrastinating)
• not saying the words “stop procrastinating”, most of the time
• saying “stop procrastinating”, and braving any potential explosion, when I’m really running behind
• looking after me when I’m sick and coughing up nasty stuff
• telling me I’m beautiful, even when coughing up nasty stuff
• correctly interpreting “no chocolate for me, thanks” as “I shouldn’t have chocolate but I want some anyway, so I’m going to say ‘no’ to keep up appearances”
• buying me chocolate as per above
• saving the strawberry-filled chocolates for me
  
• calming me down when I break machinery that doesn’t belong to me
• attempting to fix machinery that I have broken
• listening to my stoned ramblings
• making me breakfast in bed
• putting up with my moodiness and sullenness
• reading to me

Part three of The Proposal series will be coming soon... promise...

The proposal, part 2

From part 1...

Answers
We arrived back at his place and I slumped petulantly into his bed. While petulant isn’t a good look on me, I don’t think that anyone could deny I don’t do it with the utmost fervour and skill. Janek lay next to me. “What are you thinking?” He asked.

“Where do I start?” I said. My stomach was in knots, my heart was racing and I was feeling not a little anxious. I love Janek, don’t get me wrong, but I was completely taken by surprise and, when it comes down to it, I’m just not ready to hit the aisle and wed anyone at this point in my life. I was also a little pissed off with Janek too, if I’m brutally honest, for not predicting my reaction a little more accurately. Looking back now, fifteen days later, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my reaction and what the possible motives could be… But I’m getting ahead of myself, that’s for another post.

I started trying to explain myself, figuring that after my little tantrum Janek deserved some answers. “I guess you’ve just taken me by surprise. I mean… umm…” At this point words failed me a little. “It’s not that I don’t love you, baby, I just…” I sighed. “I’m not ready to get married.”

That must have hurt to hear. To his eternal credit, he digested this remarkably well. He asked if I wanted to call Dad or Paul or someone, I said that no, I would be ok, I just needed something to relax me and I’d be fine. I went over to my room to grab some stuff and, partly, to give me a chance to SMS Paul and send my father with a death threat (while Janek probably maniacally SMSed Nic with updates). When I got back, much deep and meaningful discussion ensued; I don’t remember what was said exactly (I was, by this time, heavily under the influence), but I remember the outcome. It all ended with me saying:

“Look, Janek: It’s not that I don’t love you, obviously, because I do. And it’s not that I am not committed to you, because I am. So, if the question is ‘will you marry me at some point in the future?’… Then my answer is ‘yes’.”

Suddenly the worries I had pent up in my stomach and various butterfly-producing muscles melted away as I rolled on top of Janek and kissed him.

There’s more. Stay tuned for Part 3, the fallout and the reflection.

The proposal, part 1

I should be studying for my psychology exam, which is scheduled for 9.20am tomorrow morning. In my experience, nothing good ever happens at 9.20am. But I am sitting in bed, watching Home and Away and trying to ward off The Midnight Cat who, despite my protestations, is intent on climbing all over me and pawing at my stomach. I know that she’s just trying to be affectionate, and I do love having her fall asleep on my chest, but she makes it impossible to do anything other than change the channel with the remote control, and she only permits that if the remote is in reach when she chooses to sit down. But anyway, the purpose of this post is not to discuss the mundane…

The Anniversary
Eleven days ago it was our one year anniversary. During the day, I was at home reading papers and writing an essay. John made reservations for dinner at an Italian restaurant in Newtown; I shaved, showered and hoped that I could get through the evening with my winning smile and dashing good looks considering I hadn’t actually bought him a gift. As it happens that was both the most, and the least, of my worries that night.

I knew that he had spent a lot on my gift and, according to a mutual friend, that I’d “never guess what it is” and “never expect it”. This made me nervous. I don’t like surprises, especially when I know about them beforehand…

We arrived at the restaurant, were greeted by the restaurateur and took our seats. After a lovely dinner Janek said “well I have your gift with me...” I cut him off before he could continue: “What!? Huh!? Where!??” “You’ll get it in about twenty seconds,” he said. Immediately I had visions of the waiter coming in with a diamond ring nestled in a canapé. My mind reeled. I said to myself that he wouldn’t, he knows I don’t like rings, he knows that I freak out from this weird finger claustrophobia when I wear them. He took a breath, gulped a little, and continued.

“Well I’m not going to be so self-centred as to say that my gift to you is myself,” he began. In my mind’s increasingly horrified eye, the ring glistened and actually grew larger against the bed of lettuce it was nestled in. He gripped my two hands in his. Though the romance of the situation wasn’t lost on me, I can’t deny I felt a little sick. “So I got you this,” he said, a small goldmark box materialising in his left hand. The phrase “I was speechless” doesn’t begin to cover the moment. He opened the box and a silver ring poked out of the white fluff at me. He took it out of the box and wrestled it onto my ring finger. It was two or three sizes too big for me (which, I found out later, was done on purpose to avoid the finger-claustrophobia).

“I called your Dad today,” he said, “and asked his permission to ask you this…” HOLY FUCK, I thought, and then, oh, it’s ok, he’s only joking. Phew. “Will you marry me?” Thinking it was a joke, I said yes.

(Hint: he wasn’t kidding)

About five minutes later, I realised it wasn’t a joke. Then I panicked and my mind reeled anew: I’m not ready to be married, I’m only 25 you idiot! Fuck! I’ve said yes! How do I go back on that? Huh? HUH?? ‘Oh, actually honey, I was kidding’? Janek, ever the intuitive one, picked up on this. “You’re freaking out aren’t you?” he asked. “How’d you guess?” I snapped.

He took my hand and I melted…

Stay tuned for Part 2.

The wisdom of Dan

I love Dan. Especially when high. He just got here and has tried to put his eye drops in with glasses on. He burst into tears of laughter when I described a cardboard box to him. He has said the following:

Me: Remember how you were saying I always lie on your right when we watch TV? I'm on your right side.
Dan: Does that make me gay?

Dan (to the Midnight Cat): My darling! Do you want to lie down here? Here, why don't you like on my jacket and scarf, not this horrible plastic bag... this way you don't need to hear yourself sleep.

Dan: You know how everyone says "Oh I learn more about you every day? Well baby you know enough about me to know I don't like relinquishing control,especially in regards to gravity.