There is a vendor fair going on at work which has taken over the entire cafeteria, so they have tossed us out to eat lunch wherever we can. I ducked into an empty conference room, but it wasn't comfortable, and I really wasn't supposed to be in there. Plus I am in the midst of my annual attempt to improve my mind. I'm trying, once again, to read Absalom, Absalom!, but it's pretty rough going. Faulkner seems to write every single sentence in incredibly long cinnamon-bun type spirals of words which are not only almost endless, but damn near indecipherable. So I decided to go out and run a few errands on my lunch break.
Eve had gotten in touch this morning about me going over there tonight for supper. Because Dad is still recovering from his second hip replacement, we were having dinner in, which was fine with me. I got there and discussed the estimate on having the bathroom done while Eve finished up dinner. I also got to see their new tile kitchen floor, which Dad's guy had done for them. It was nice work, but he takes a lot longer to do jobs than he estimates, to which I am resigned. We had coconut shrimp, stuffed scallops, boiled shrimp, green beans, cole slaw, and baked potatoes with all the fixings. It was a capital meal (which Eve destroyed the kitchen to make), after which we repaired to the den for conversation.
That's where things went south. I started talking about the weekend, and the strange dichotomy of the Dewy Rose, GA population. Dad launched off into a rant about how gay people just wouldn't have problems if they wouldn't 'advertise' their gayness. He finds the wearing of the rainbow flag and the pink triangle offensive. It boils down to we should just stay in the back of the bus like good darkies, and all will be well. I flew mad. When I tried to explain to him what it would be like to live his life in the closet, he couldn't wrap his mind around that. When he began to lament about the ridiculous 'reverse discrimination' he faces as an over-fed, over-privileged, overly catered-to, wealthy white heterosexual man, I was just at my limit. I left.
On the one hand, I feel that I squandered what could have been a teaching moment. On the other hand, he has made up his mind about all of this, and wasn't really receptive to anything I had to say. I'm used to looking the other way when he goes off on something, but he knows nothing about this, and apparently has no interest in finding out anything that doesn't agree with his own narrow viewpoint. The idea that gay people should just be happy with the things we are grudgingly tolerated to do by heterosexuals just flies all over me. I couldn't rein in here. Part of me thinks that I expect too much. He has never faced any discrimination in his life. The entire world, and the majority of our society is specifically catered to appeal to his whim. The other part of me resents that privilege. And part of me feels vaguely guilty for 'flying under the radar' or 'passing' as much as I do. That may have been why I got so angry. Part of me is also thinking that he is on some serious post-surgery meds. Things may have just gotten a little to un-edited tonight. But if that's what he really thinks, the fact the drugs spilled it really doesn't help. At any rate, I felt terrible.
I just went home and got ready for bed.
Dana called, was nice enough to ask, and I just regurgitated this all over her on the phone. Lord knows she has enough parental shit of her own to deal with.
She had called to suggest a game night at my house this weekend, which seems like a lovely idea, and a great way for me to think about something else for a while. We made some preliminary plans, and I turned in feeling a little better. Good thing I bought vodka today - I could use a drink!
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