My Life in the Slow Lane

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.

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.

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.

Janek and I journeyed northward to the Land of the Beach, to Lala and Cal’s, for New year’s. The weather was perfect for it, nice and hot like I like it but not so hot that the simple act of moving produces a tidal wave of sweat.

We arrived on the 29th of January, the idea being that we’d be there a few days earlier to help out with setting up the house for the (now traditional) big party that is held there each year. Naturally, little-to-no groundwork was done in the days leading up to the 31st, mostly because Lala didn’t want to do anything before hand (I love her, but she is not the most organised egg in the basket). The day of the 31st consisted largely of Lala getting progressively more stressed as the hours wore on, and Janek, Cal, Alex and I trying to be helpful, calm and above all: out of her way. In the end, Janek, Alex and I offered to go to the supermarket and get the various foodstuffs, drinks, ice, serviettes-plates-cutlery and (best of all) a kids’ blow-up boat to put the ice and drinks into in the back yard.

At the appointed hour, the guests arrived, the music started playing, the barbie was fired up and the drinks began to flow. As time passed, and people began to get progressively drunker, things started to get interesting. There were two incidents that stood out.

At one stage, I walked to the back of the garden where Mary sat at a table, sobbing hysterically. I looked askance at Bee, who informed me the reason for Mary’s tears: “Umm… she thinks someone has drunk half her vodka but she doesn’t know if it was her or someone else.” I blinked. “Right… Perhaps, in that case, she’s had too much to drink if she doesn’t know if she drunk her drink or not?” Bee shrugged. A little later Ade noticed that one girl had a bottle of vodka on the table in front of her. “I think this is my girlfriend’s!” he barked at her. “Go on,” she sneered, “take it.” “Oh, I just did” he said triumphantly, and ran off to Lala, to dob the girl in. What happened next I’m not quite sure of, but it ended in Ade and the girl’s boyfriend involved in the kind of argument that is conducted in terse tones that are intended to sound cool but actually sound arrogant, followed by a shot contest with Canadian Club, presumably in some kind of straight-yet-strangely-homoerotic mating ritual in which they probably compared penis sizes.

So that was New years. It was a good night, apart from that and the girl in question and her friends snorting crushed up ecstasy pills in the bathroom, causing even more drama as Lala indignantly refused to see my point when I pointed out that Mary drinking to the point of collapse is just the same really, if not worse, considering they’re both forms of escapism in one way or another. Lala is strangely anti-any-drug-stronger-than-marijuana.

So that’s it for the backdated stuff ladies and gents… tomorrow, a catch up of January then we resume our regular programming.

Christmas is my favourite time of year. Always. I love the anticipation; I’m like a little kid waiting for the arrival of Santa (which I never was, mind you, because we were never told that Santa brought the gifts down the chimney on Christmas Eve. This was partly because we celebrate Christmas on the 24th so by Christmas Eve we already have our gifts, and partly because Mum thought it was stupid to believe a big fat man brings you gifts only to be disappointed at the age of ten).

Each year we celebrate Christmas on the 24th at Grandma’s place. We arrive at about 5pm for pre-dinner drinks and enough peanuts to sink a small rowboat. Once everyone has arrived, usually by 7, we enter the dining room for prayers. As a child we were never allowed into the dining room until we heard the dinner bell so this is when we’d see the decorations and the Christmas tree for the first time. Since I’ve got older, I’ve been the one who actually puts the tree up, so the dinner bell has lost some of its magic. When we enter the dining room, we kneel before a nativity display that sits atop a table the size of your average dining table. The entire scene has been hand-carved and painted by my grandfather and it’s simply stunning. After the prayers we sit at the three tables, all twenty-three of us, while my grandfather reads the gospel of the nativity story in Slovak, followed by one of the “children” (ie my generation) reading it in English. Then comes dinner!

The dinner is huge. In typical Mediterranean and Eastern European fashion, it is totally over-catered. Traditionally, each household makes three dishes. As we’ve grown older and moved out of home there are more households and thus more food. There is so much food that the two fridges, the standalone freezer and the tuckerbox freezer struggle to contain it all. And it’s all delicious.

Following dinner come the presents! Admittedly this was a little more magical when we were younger, partly cos we were smaller so the pile of gifts looked even more enormous, and partly cos the gifts we get these days are more compact, but still. This year Christmas was just as magical as ever it was. The night passed way too quickly as it always does but I had a great time with Lala, Cal, and the whole family.

This year it didn’t end on the 24th. I decided to organise a Boxing Day lunch at our place so that Janek could spend some time with us and perhaps have an enjoyable Christmas for once. Having working in retail for the past five years, when he thinks of Christmas he imagines rude customers, standing for long hours on the floor at a major department store, and family arguments.

The guest list included Mum, Dad, Sister, Janek, and my aunt and uncle (Dad’s sister and her husband, who used to live with Pop). On the morning I got up and went to say good morning to Mum. “Good morning,” she said, but she sounded a little worried about something. She told me that my aunt had called this morning and that another aunt and uncle were coming, and asked if that was ok. “Sure…” I said, not quite sure what the big deal was. “Well,” Mum began, “It’s just that your uncle is a bit…” Her voice trailed off in a way that meant “your uncle is a homophobe”. “So? I don’t give a fuck if he’s a bit…” I said, allowing my voice to trail off in the same way, “It’s my house!” “Perhaps you should give Janek your gift in private?” she said. To be frank, I didn’t see any reason why I should but I could see the worry on her face so I promised her that we would exchange gifts in the privacy of my bedroom, and promised not to fellate each other in the presence of company. She seemed pleased to hear this.

Janek came, as did the aunts and the uncles, and we had a great lunch. Everyone loved him (but then that was totally unsurprising) and we all had a great time. This has been one of the best Christmases ever.

Immediately after The Unpleasant Experience of Food Poisoning, Janek drove me up to Mum & Dad’s place to rest and recuperate. Despite the fact that it was coming from both ends, that I still had a fever the next day, and that I felt like death warmed up (slowly), Mum was still very pleased that I had come up for a little visit.

Anyway, on Monday as I lay on the lounge, totally zapped of energy from not eating (due to vomiting still) and not keeping down what I could eat (from the other thing), I asked Sister if she’d like to watch a TV show or two on DVD with me. We agreed on a show, she put the disk in and it loaded up. As we sat watching the main menu, I looked at her to indicate she should click “play all”. She placed the remote on the coffee table, looked me in the eye and spoke: “Um, before we do, and I don’t want to open a can of worms, but I want to talk to you about Janek.”

I was so not in the mood for this. I was still a little feverish, and totally not up for a theological battle with her. “Uh, ok…” I said at length. “Well it’s not him personally,” she hastened to add, “it’s just, well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show affection to each other in my presence. It makes me uncomfortable.” What the fuck!? “Ugh, Sister,” I groaned. “Well I don’t think it’s unreasonable,” she said, “it just makes me uncomfortable.” At this point I gave up, I knew there was no point fighting with her in my present condition so I narrowed my eyes, and in a tone of voice that would make even a hardened drama queen weep said, “Whatever, Sister, I’ll see what I can do. Put the fucking show on.” And that was that.

If I had been a little stronger I would have asked her exactly what it was we’d done that had made her so uncomfortable; was it the quiet hand-holding while watching TV with my parents last night (who were also hand-in-hand I should add)? Was it the way we hugged in the hallway after I had just emptied my bowels for the fifth time that night? Was it the chaste kiss on the lips (no tongue) that we shared as he was leaving? The irony is that unlike other times we’ve stayed at my parents’ place together, there was no sex whatsoever happening.

I spoke to Mum about it, and asked her if Sister had ever said anything to her about Janek and I. She said no and I told her what had been said earlier in the day. “Oh,” Mum said, “That’s a tricky one. I don’t know what to advise on this one.” “Yeh well I don’t know what to do!” I said. “I mean it’s not like we were fucking on the coffee table in front of her!” “Well if you want to be crude about it, I suppose not…” she said with a half smile on her face.

So. Sister thinks that I’ve agreed to her ridiculous mandate, and I think she’s dreaming. If I get a chance I’m going to ask her exactly what it is that makes her uncomfortable about Janek and I (apart from the simple fact of his existence at my side). See, the thing is that I recognise that she shouldn’t be made to feel uncomfortable in her own house, but she has to recognise that I will not be made to feel that my relationship with my boyfriend is inferior in my own house either.

So what now?

The other week, when I received confirmation from Housing that The Space Cadet was moving, I sent an elated text message to some family and friends. A few minutes later I received a phone call from Sister. “I bet I can trump your news,” she said. I told her I doubted that very much indeed. She laughed and said “I’m moving back to Sydney.”

Janek was watching me as this exchange took place and tells me that my face went white and dropped. “What? Why? When?” I asked, each word in quick succession, trying not to give away my shock and slight disappointment. “It’s a long story…”

I didn’t get too much information out of her on that initial phone call, just that she is no longer going to be living in Melbourne with her friends, that she’d be returning home to Mum & Dad’s, and that she’d leaving in two days’ time. I asked her what would happen to her uni studies and she told me she had withdrawn already and as it was before a certain date there was no academic or financial penalty. The next day she called me and asked if I’d book her flight for her; the day after that she was on the plane and back in sunny Sydney.

I was in shock for the first day or two. I had got used to having her in another city, which was perfect because it meant we could talk on the phone, thick as thieves, avoid any uncomfortably subjects (like me being gay, or the appearance of Janek) and not kill each other. Like many complicated relationships, Sister and I get on best when we’re apart. I think it’s also partly got to do with the fact that the more physical distance there is between us, the more I can pretend that there is some kind of emotional distance too, to protect myself from things like The Talk and The Letter Incident, even if at the back of my mind I know that she will wield the power over me that she does whether she lives in the same house/city/state as me or not. I just feel that she’s upset the status quo now; I just hope things don’t get worse in an already fragile situation.

SMS, me to Dad: Hey Dad, What are you guys doing this weekend? Janek and I have been invited to a party [near home] on Sunday. So can I stay at your place on Saturday night?
SMS, Dad to me: Mum has something on Saturday, but I’ll be home. Of course you can stay.
SMS, me to Dad: Cool, thanks. When I have more details I’ll let you know.
SMS, Dad to me: Cool. Will J be staying here too?

This had me a little worried. Well, “worried” isn’t the right word, but I wasn’t sure how this would pan out. They know about Janek, Mum has met him briefly and seems to like him, but how would they go with us both sleeping under their roof? Together? Rather than have any awkwardness on Saturday, I gave Mum a call to find out what she thinks…

Me: Hey Mum, how’re you?
Mum: I’m well. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?
Me: Well I wanted to ask you about this weekend… How do you feel about Janek staying there? In my room, I mean.
Mum: Well how do you feel about it?
Me: I feel great, how do you feel?
Mum: I feel fine. (to Dad) How do you feel about Janek staying here? (quick silence) He feels fine, everyone’s fine, don’t worry.
Me: Good good. So when can we expect you?

We arrived late.

We had dinner, a simple chicken stirfry that I invented from left-overs that Dad really loved, and then watched a movie with them. Mum went to bed early; Dad watched another movie with us, as we snuggled up on the lounge. There was no awkwardness, no sideling looks, no whispers; they loved him, like I knew they would. And he loved them. So much so that he even sided with my mother during an argument on how best to cook rice. Though I was pissed off at the time that he wasn’t backing me up, since he’s seen me make rice this way hundreds of times, I was glad he felt comfortable enough to join in the jokey kind of argument.

As we were getting ready for bed Dad said “So I take it you don’t want me to make up Sister’s room?” I said no. He smiled knowingly and went on his way.

The next morning, as we leaving, I snuck into Mum’s room and did the whole “So now that you’ve spent more than a few minutes with him, what did you think?” thing in hushed whispers so that Janek wouldn’t know we were talking about him (though I do realise that by writing about it I am negating my efforts somewhat). She told me she really likes him, and that she’s glad I brought him to meet them.

I didn’t get a chance to ask Dad, so I sent him a text message tonight…
SMS, me to Dad: So what do you think of Janek?
SM S, Dad to me: I like Janek! Was going to ask how he felt about meeting the parents.
SMS, me to Dad: He was nervous as hell on the drive up but it dissipated quickly.
SM S, Dad to me: And… what did he say on the trip home?
SMS, me to Dad: I dunno… do you have anything specific in mind? He said he had a good time, you and Mum are really lovely etc.
SM S, Dad to me: No… that is fine. Just hoped that he felt comfortable being here
SMS, me to Dad: Oh yes, he did. Very much. Weekend was a huge success

On Sunday I journeyed to the coast to stay with Lala and Cal for a week. Luckily, I scored a lift with Janek, and we went out to lunch with most of The Beach Crew: Lala, Tia, Bee, Bin and Alex.

It’s hard to say who was more nervous as Janek and I drove to the coast… When we got into the car after lunch, Janek clutched his heart dramatically and declared his heart was beating a mile a minute, so it’s safe to assume that he was as nervous as I was. For my part, I discovered that my nerves were misplaced as I saw Janek and my family get on like a house on fire.

As in all good Meeting-The-New-Partner scenarios, as soon as The Partner was out of earshot, The Presenter asked the timeless question: “So what do you think?” The response was, without exception, “I love Janek! He’s so lovely!” Another yay.

I’m really getting very sick of the familial drama that seems to be befalling me left, right and centre. For the time being, I’m just avoiding Sister. Which is incredibly easy, because she appears to be avoiding me… I haven’t heard from her since The Letter. But to be honest if she calls I won’t answer it; I’d much rather deal with her in writing for the time being.

I sent out a text message today to some friends and family about the results of my recent glucose tolerance test and other various tests (which I’ll blog about in the next few days, once I have got my head around it all). Tía was on the recipient list. Below are the text messages that went back and forth between us:

Me, the original message, at lunch time: Went to doc. I have “reactive hypoglycaemia” which means low carb diet on top of yeast-free FOREVER I think I’m in mourning. Ever the saviour, Janek has read into it and has assured me it’s doable and once I get used to it not a huge deal but I haven’t been able to do any research yet. This should help with fatigue and general feeling like shit but not sure about effect on pain yet. Also suggested I quit smoking I said fuck off. So that’s my update. XXX

Tía, in the evening: I’m glad u r getting 2 the bottom of things. Painful but worth it yeah? Pobrecito [poor little thing] I hear u sobrino [my nephew]. XO

I replied, without thinking too much about the content. Since The Kiss, I’ve been on cloud nine… so I wasn’t thinking that I probably shouldn’t mention Janek to Tía because I knew she wouldn’t like the whole “boyfriend thing” and probably shouldn’t use smiley faces if I did (not that I plan on censoring myself because she, or Sister for that matter, don’t like it… but there’s a time and a place). But I did, because when you’re on cloud nine you do reckless things like that.

Me: Very painful but Janek found me sugar free chocolate!!! So that makes it a little more bearable!
Tía: Whos Janek?

I knew I’d reached the point of no return. The time lag between messages was much longer the second time… so I guess she was either freaking out or choosing her words. Since I had reached this point I figured no point fucking around…

Me: Janek’s my boyfriend
Tía: Ur boyfriend? Since when?
Me: Yep. Only a couple of weeks. Since the 6th.

Then she came at me with…

Tía: Ouch! It hurts my heart. It really is true! I was a bit like grandma although 4 diff reasons I think. I was hoping it was just a phase. I’m sorry Daniel I love u X

Now I ask you, what the fuck do you say to that? I mean I know what she’s getting at but the way she worded it was incredibly cruel. And if she didn’t mean to be cruel then she’s naïve if she thinks it doesn’t come across this way. Several things flashed through my mind (as I stood on the bus hurtling down George Street, no less, so I couldn’t even scream of punch any pillows), none of which I could actually send to an aunt. I threw the phone into my grocery bag, got off the bus and walked to where Janek was meeting me. I showed him the message and told him the things I wanted to write back with. He very pragmatically suggested they may not be the best approaches to take with her and calmed me to a point where I could reply…

Me: Why are you sorry? Because it’s true, because I have a bf or because u sent that message?
Tía: I’m sorry that I can’t celebrate with u. XOXO

Janek again talked me down from replying. At all. Which is good because I would have said something I’d later regret. So the silence list grows… Why is it always the ones you are close to?