one terrible week after my dad found a diary of mine with everything in it and there was a showdown he didnt let me talk he just mostly lectured and any questions were kind of slanted so that I wouldnt be able to say anything he couldn't cope with hearing (fearing the worst?). Next day I left his house (I was in my early 20's by then) and went to Bristol for a few days - back into a gay scene where I had been trying to establish some sort of realistic sexual identity. Eventually I went back to my mother's house ready for a showdown there too (I knew my father would have been in touch with her.) All I said was 'I like boys' and she said 'what is it you want to do with them?' and that floored me because I'd never thought about it in that way. Sexually I was completely immature and I had never thought that being attracted meant that you did anything except look and enjoy . . . . she couldnt understand that of course being fairly normal sexually . . . . so I said quite honestly 'I don't want to do anything with them' . . . pregnant pause where I know what she's thinking . . . .'you'll just have to trust me on that'. Whether that was enough for her I will never really know because we have never discussed it since - even after my arrest for computer pics earlier this century. The less she knows the more she likes it. Perhaps all mothers are like that with sons not sure. My relationship with Dad pretty well broke down after that. He sent me a note via my brother a couple of years later saying that he had forgiven me. That made me absolutely livid and I had trouble facing him after that . . . . we did reconcile sort of before he died in 1997. I always loved him but I never felt we connected (my parents split up during my very young days and we lost touch through the crucial years. Wow I could have done with him then!) My grief after his death took me completely by surprise.
yes that's the only way I could put it: I like boys