A Christmas Memory

Everyone has at least one crappy holiday. This was mine: The year was 1982. In love with all things gay, I was obsessed with the homo-tinged After Dark magazine and the fact that James Dean's middle name was Byron.

Around that time, I dropped out of college and started hanging out at Embers. Sex was far more important than school. By calling myself a queer, I thought I could also drop the shackles of my youth and make myself over into an instant man magnet. Naturally, I thought I'd spend my first homo Xmas in Palm Springs opening "packages" and cackling at caftan-shrouded queens.

But by Christmas '82, I still hated my life. And I hated the holidays even more. Far from Palm Springs, I was stuck on a Columbia Gorge mountaintop spending the holidays as I always had--with my family. Now, I love my family--a lot--but that year I didn't want to spend time with them because I still hadn't told them I was gay.

Zip ahead almost 20 years, to Christmas 2001. I have yet to make it to Palm Springs, but don't feel sorry for me. I have come to terms with a lot of other things in my life. I have an amazing partner, Juan, and we've created our own holiday traditions. He makes me happier than I ever thought I possibly could be.

But Christmas still messes with my head. Why? Because I still spend the holidays as I always have--with my family. Except this time around, Juan comes along for the ride. I don't know about you, but it can get a bit draining ignoring the fact that you've been in the same queer relationship for more than six years. That's right. Even though I'm probably the biggest fag in town (a queer column combined with a sassy mouth), I've never talked to my father about being gay. Not once. It's not like we don't have skeletons in our closet. We spend half our holiday rehashing all the drama that surrounds our family. But we never, ever talk about my homosexuality. That's why the holidays can be...well...different.

Pop knows I bring the same guy home every year. He's really cool with Juan; my family even buys Juan presents. But for me, the whole gay thing feels like a giant, pink gorilla that sits in the corner and waits and waits and waits. For what? I don't know. I don't think it'll be a big deal when we finally end up having our "talk." It's starting the talk that seems to be the problem. And it always seems to get worse this time of year. I guess in my dream world having all the members of my family accept the fact I am gay--and happy--might be the best present that I could ever wish for. I hope someday it falls down my chimney--that might be the only way it will ever happen.

The boys are back in town... and this time they've added hot sauce.

Tiara Desmond's big holiday show comes complete with an appearance by Lady Chablis (Seattle's La Femme) and is a benefit for the Bradley- Angle House.

WWeek 2015