Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I usually don't swear, but I don't know what else to say right now.

Dad is probably the biggest jerk of all times.

I knew there would be a twist to the father-son time he asked me for after our talk.

I knew it, but I didn't want to see it. I wanted to believe that he had finally, finally made some progress. I wanted to believe he was on his way to accepting me the way I am. I wanted him to love me and be proud of me despite of me being gay.

It seems that's never going to happen.

Because our so-called father-son time was just another game of his, another means to lull me into security before letting the bomb drop, another attempt to turn me into the son he wants me to be.

It all started with a "spontaneous" idea: One of his friends had a '59 Chevy he wanted to get rid of, which happened to be my dad's favorite car when he was my age. After having told his friend about his feelings for the car, my dad was obviously forced to take the almost dead thing and give it a new home.

He took me to our garage yesterday and there it was: His teenage dream. Well, not really his teenage dream, because that thing was more a skeleton than a car in its current condition, which I couldn't help but be vocal about.

That was his cue.

"Son, I have a brilliant idea! We're gonna rebuild this car. Together. We're gonna get dirty and sweaty and have the time of our lives. What do you say?"

I just gaped for a few seconds before I realized what this father-son time really was about, what he was obviously trying to do, and I almost burst out into hysterical laughter. Was he really that shallow? Was he stupid enough to use something like this to try and make me straight? Was he out of his mind?

When the realization of what lay ahead of me hit, I turned around and ran into the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and tried very hard not to vomit out of confusion, disappointment and anger.

I always thought my dad was an intelligent person. He's a lawyer, for god's sakes! He was obviously bright enough to make it through law school and pass the bar, but he thinks he can turn me by making me build a freakin' car with him?

It's okay to be confused about these things in the beginning, but it's not as if I had just come out to him. He had over a month to do some serious research on the matter, and all he comes up with is this joke?

Am I not worth looking up the basic facts about homosexuality? He - a fucking lawyer, who does background research on far more complicated matters every single day, who knows damn well where to find just the information you need, who knows exactly which sources are reliable and which aren't - isn't able to do this for me?

I'm your son, for god's sakes!

Why can't you accept that I was born this way, Dad?

Fuck you.

Just fuck you.