Families

Days before Christmas, our gay circle headed for Circles to celebrate the season with a buffet lunch. It was the time of the year when the spirit of generosity was most alive, and who better to receive such generosity than our very selves. This yearly tradition had began three years prior, done for the first time on an expensive whim while the four of us sat at Starbucks 6750 wondering where to lunch. This friendship had seen through many changes in our lives: the death of Adam's mother and his estrangement with his father, Dan and Adam's work promotions, my college graduation and the start of my career, the death of my father, and Uno's permanent inclusion to our inner circle after he and Adam had broken up. We've helped each other weather many storms, and our conversations as we dissected our lives over coffee, weekday dinners and weekend lunches had saved us from ever needing therapy. Today was a celebration of the years of friendship as much as it was about Christmas, grateful for having found each other in the competitive world of gay Manila, our own tight little family. 

“So ladies, Christmas plans,” Dan said. 

“The usual: church with the family and then Noche Buena,” Uno said.

“Mom's spending Christmas with my brothers in Canada,” I said.

“You aren't going?” Adam asked.

“Nuh uh,” I said.

“Then let's spend it again together,” Adam said.

“And I'm coming along,” Dan said.

“Wait, why?” Adam said.

“Mike's going home to Davao,” Dan said.

“But you always spend Christmas and New Year together,” Uno said.

“Are you okay?” I asked Dan. 

“I cannot compete with his mother,” Dan said. 

“Why didn't he ask you to come along?” Adam asked.

“He did,” Dan said.

“But?” I asked.

“But I think he'd rather go alone to avoid awkward questions from relatives,” Dan said.

“He wouldn't ask you to go if he didn't want to,” Uno said.

“He's just asking him for the sake of asking,” Adam said. 

“Which is why I'm spending Christmas with you girls. You can all come over to the house, we'll cook Noche Buena, hear mass at the Cathedral, it'll be fabulous,” Dan said. 

“I wish I could go,” Uno said.

“Come over Christmas day. Maybe they'll let you out by then,” I said. 

“Dad called last night,” Adam said.

We all looked at Adam at the abrupt change of topic. 

“The married guy?” Uno asked.

“As in my real dad,” Adam said.

“Didn't he say you no longer exist to him?” Dan asked.

“His baby is in the hospital. He needs money,” Adam said.

“So it's okay to disown you and then still expect to get money from you?” Dan asked.

“I hope he's okay,” Uno said.

“It's dengue,” Adam said.

“I'm not even going to ask if you gave him money,” I said.

“Maybe this could be the start of a reconciliation,” Uno said.

“Or maybe it's the start of him abusing Adam's kindness,” Dan said. 

“Don't worry, I think I know when I'm being taken advantaged of. And besides, it's not that easy to forgive everything he's said and done to me all these years,” Adam said. 

“Okay. I think we all need some dessert, am I right?” I asked.

*

Christmas is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. But with many gay men unable to introduce their better halves to their families because they are still in hiding, and many gay men are still estranged from their families for coming out, the season becomes a bitter reminder of what we couldn't have for either being true to ourselves or for hiding who we are. Coupled with the fear of growing old alone, the fear of going against our parents' wishes are so great that some gay men choose to marry and have children, believing that such a personal sacrifice is worth our parents' approval, and that marriage and progenation are safety nets for our future loneliness. As I walked towards where the desserts were, I thought about Dan and Mike who despite the length of their relationship still had to be separated this time of the year for the sake of keeping up appearances, and I thought about Adam who despite all the wrongs his father did still helped him out of a sense of duty. I thought about gay men like myself who could introduce their boyfriends to their families, and how lucky we were, and how few we must be. I thought about duty, and love, and approval, and I couldn't help but wonder, do we really owe our parents anything, or do we only owe them to live our lives in our own terms, whether that life is for or against their wishes? Why do we have to break our own hearts so we don't break our parents' hearts? And why do theirs break when we follow ours? Why do hearts have to break when we follow love?