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I never actually told my parents. They found out, as the saying goes, through the grapevine.
It started from Dakin’s house. An innocent question. “How’s that Posner child, David is it, doing?”
“Oh, quite well,” my old friend would have replied. “He’s stopped fawning over me now.”
“Has he really? That’s fortunate.”
“For me. He fawns over Don now.”
“And how does he take it, him being so heavily involved in the church and all?”
“Oh, he just fawns over David back.”
This would have passed through the Lockwoods, the Timms, and the Rudges before it got to my house, where it received an extraordinary response.
“Darling, I heard that you’re living with Posner boy.”
“Yes mum.”
“Not just as roommates, darling. The rumour is that you are, well, dating each other.”
This was met with a loud silence.
“And that means you’re, well, homosexual. Isn’t that against your beliefs?”
“Yes mum.”
“Then you need to stop idolizing that Jesus character! Wasn’t one of the Beatles gay? I told you they would be better role models.”
“And there was me suspecting you would be angry.”
Nevertheless, my mother was simply overjoyed.
My father said it would pass.
Sometimes I find it extraordinary how un-typical my parents are, and I am extremely glad.