I must have been 13 or 14 at the time it happened.
I had been having these strange dreams. They were disturbing dreams. At least to me. I kept dreaming about women, and not just in the "passing them on the street" sense, either. These dreams continued for a good couple of months. They were troubling, needless to say. Eventually, though, I started to come to grips with the meaning of these dreams. It was time to confront my parents.
I remember standing there in my sister's dress. It was the one she would let me wear. A horrible white thing with red flowers. I'm not sure what it was made of, but I'd bet it wasn't cotton. Probably, it was some sort of synthetic material made from recycled milk cartons or something.
I remember wearing this dress, in front of my parents. They were sitting on that ugly green sofa. The one used mostly by guests or by my folks in the morning. I never did figure out why they didn't just use the regular sofa in the morning, but this was the living room and I guess they wanted to spend some time in it.
So I'm standing there, and they're sitting there. And I just told them. Flat out. Without regard for whether they'd approve or disapprove.
"Mom. Dad." I said, "I have something to tell you."
"I'm a heterosexual."
My Dad fixes me with a hard stare, then takes a sip of his coffee.
"Well," he said. "That would explain where my Playboys have been disappearing to."
My mom really didn't say much. She just looked worried and asked, "So how are you going to meet straight girls if you keep hanging out with lesbians."
To this day, I'm still working on that one.