My Big Gay Birthday: Too Ordinary To Be Real


Sunday was my 27th Birthday. That’s right, I’m middle-aged in the gay world. Despite it being one of the biggest weekends of the gay calendar (gay prides, anniversary of SCOTUS ruling), it was a relatively quiet day for me.

I woke up and got ready to go to church by myself, no interruptions. My family leaves the house 15 minutes until the start of mass, which is usually enough time, so I wake up 30 minutes so I can just rush to get ready and leave. No different from any other Sunday.


In the car, mom started by rubbing my shoulders and said happy birthday, which gets me really uncomfortable. Then, Rose said happy birthday, followed by Joey announcing to the car that he texted happy birthday with no reply, and that I never reply to him. He texted at like 2AM and he wanted me to reply to him, saying thanks when he could have walked over to my room and said it if he thought I was awake? I hate him texting me when we’re in the same room, or just feet away from each other. There’s no point. My mom continued to talk about the day I was born.


My mom kept complimenting me and about how easy my birth was. I’m not really into receiving compliments much, so I looked at my Facebook to see who’s written on my wall, careful not to “like” any yet. Just then, my best friend Boob texted me happy birthday. For her and I, we rather text things like this than Facebook post about it, so it was expected. Our friendship is actually very private and I do find it nice because it’s not really for everyone to know.

When we finally got to the church at exactly 11:00, mass already started for some reason. They’re starting everything early nowadays, it pisses me off. Well, it didn’t stop me from looking around a bit as I went to my seat. It’s a regular thing for me to look out at the Catholic pupils and try to find the one person (usually guy) that’s attractive. Sometimes it’s a good weekend and there’s more than one person that’s a 7+/10. My birthday mass was a bust though. Absolutely nobody to steal glances at, so I decided I’d be the hot guy in the church for this week. It’s appropriate enough, as I looked pretty amazing for it being my birthday.


One thing that wasn’t working in my favor was my singing. Singing at church is the one thing that keeps me awake throughout the whole ordeal, and my ‘musical instrument’ was badly tuned for some reason. It didn’t help that the cantor sang like the indistinguishable adult chatter in a Peanuts cartoon. However, my inability to sing well on my birthday along with a Grey’s Anatomy episode I had just watched, I began to think if I’m too old to keep singing in church.

In Grey’s Anatomy Episode named ‘An Honest Mistake“), an older resident (Campbell) had made a mistake with a surgery. The patient comes back with pains, and Christina finds that it was a mistake that would have been avoided if Campbell had used modern technology rather than her old-fashioned ways. In the end of the episode, Campbell comes to terms that she should give up the life of active surgery. I can’t help but think that I should do the same, since I haven’t really used my singing in performances for over 5 years.


I was rushed back to reality from my own distresses to hear the distress of the mentally retarded child behind me. The child, perhaps in his teens, would make some heaving noises and loud audible sound, sometimes with no provocation and others times with what I think as him wanting to participate. My brother and I had been raised well enough to just stare ahead and only acknowledge it if there’s an issue. However, the 50-something overweight woman in front of me would stare back at me, then past me every single time the child made a noise. I don’t understand how people can be so rude, because it’s not like the child or his parents could help him. By the sound, you could obviously tell that it’s not a purposeful sound, that there’s some underlying reason for a child to make such noises.

As I sat down after the gospel was read, I couldn’t help but think of the priest at the podium. This priest is relatively new to my church, but long enough that my family knew him on a personal level. I’ve been debating on his sexuality. I’m not trying to bash the Catholic Church and making another ‘gay pedophile priest’ joke because I thin those are stupid, but I really do think this youngish (maybe mid-40s) priest may have had a little gay in him before the priesthood. He’s said he worked with computer software or engineering before becoming a priest, and it makes me wonder if he experimented during his college years. It’s not that I’m interested, but I can feel his eyes lingering on me a bit longer than most straight men’s.


After what might as well be white noise, we say the Nicene Creed before the prayer intentions. The prayer intentions are practically the same very single Sunday, but sometimes there’s added specialities. Prayer intentions can range from anniversaries, deaths, confirmations, other sacraments, from politics, Syria, Haiti and natural disasters. But as I tried to listen to the prayer intentions this week, I didn’t hear anything about Orlando. I know it happened last weekend, but I don’t really remember the mention of Orlando last weekend either. How could the tragedies of Orlando not make our church’s prayer intentions? Is it because it was to gays? And if that’s the case, why is the church so against gays? Am I really affiliated with an organization that’s deliberately hating on gays? I thought that the church would be above that to be able to give some prayer intentions to anyone related to the Orlando tragedy. At least they didn’t mention anything about the restriction or promotion of gun rights.


On the way home, nobody seemed to be able to stay in a good mood. Joey was continuously complaining about mother, who was complaining about everyone picking on Dorothy because she’s a lazy piece of shit. It made for a terrible atmosphere, and I remember just wishing I could be at PRIDE — any of them, just at a PRIDE. Then, I thought I just need to be away from everyone. I truly love traveling alone and I’m completely comfortable eating and doing things by myself, so I almost debating about going to a movie by myself for my birthday later in the evening.


Attitude towards my mother started when she sent a mass text to her five children the night before my birthday. In it, she stated the following:

  • Mom and dad getting older with health problems, but don’t feel ‘burdened’ to care for them.
  • Mom won’t stop us from moving away from her. We don’t have to tell her where we’re going or how we live, just tell her you’re leaving. She doesn’t have any money to give us to go.
  • Hope that we respect mom and dad, if not love, because they’ve done their best.
  • Mom wants us to stop backstabbing her, dad and each other. She’s so sad at how shitty our family is, that she wants to die. She’s praying ‘for our family so the teeth of devil will release his clamps on us.’

The last line caught me off guard, but remembered my mother gives Carrie’s mother a run for her money. I almost feel that this is personal to me, because she said she won’t ask ‘how we live.’ She’s disapproved of my lifestyle since the very first time she saw a naked boy on my computer, and made every single one of my siblings to follow suit. Blanche, Joey and I have talked about moving away — Joey just wants to move out of the house, whilst Blanche and I want to go to a bigger area. Blanche’s boyfriend lives an hour away, and she wants to find a middle area for them to start living together. I just want a bigger city, where I don’t get bored at night waiting for something to happen.


But Blanche said it right when she said that my parents have made it sound that if we move away from the family, we’re against the family. We give up on family and don’t care about the family if we move away. They have created that sort of culture, where it’s either them or ourselves. I want to move to a big city and become a big homosexual, but if I do either or, god forbid, BOTH, then I’m out of the family. It’s me deciding I’m not part of the family because I live far away and I chose that lifestyle. And all my siblings will follow suit and turn their backs to me.

So there’s that for a birthday text from my mother. After getting home, I saw that my dad had made a feast for my birthday. Everyone had a choice of steak, potatoes, frog legs, spaghetti and meat sauce, green beans, corn and bratwursts. However, for the last couple of birthdays, I’ve asked dad to make me a lobster. My lobster was waiting for me in a boiling pot when I got home, and my dad brought him out when I was ready to dig in — BUT Dorothy wanted to put her fucking two cents in.


Here’s the thing. Dorothy had a gastric bypass surgery because she wanted to lose weight. She’s was less than 300 pounds, but she didn’t want to work out and couldn’t contain herself to get on a diet anyways, so she thought surgery would work. She was doing okay at it, but then there were complications and now she’s sickly thin and claims she can’t eat anything now (after a year). We’ve seen her eat now, but she claims she can only eat certain foods that apparently are the most expensive and out-of-the-way. If you’ve read my previous post about Dorothy, you’d know she’s a lazy piece of shit that never even got up to get herself a glass of water so now that she’s forever-sick, she’s even more lazy. She would ask us to get her food or drinks, take her kids somewhere or have us go volunteer for her since she signed up but is ‘feeling sick that day.’ And we can’t say no or else we’ll face the wrath of mother, who herself bends over backwards for her.


Anyways, Dorothy usually gets whatever she wants because she’s a bitch backed by mother. Mom always sides with her in anything. When she saw my lobster, she immediately said, “Oh! Lobster! Hermes, can I take it apart for you? It’s my FAVORITE PART. I love it. It’s my FAVORITE PART, breaking it up. I don’t want to eat any of it, I just want to break it up for you.” I replied, “I’m good” and she thought that I meant that she can do it, which I said, “No, I want to.” Why the FUCK would I want her to touch and cut up my own food for me to eat it? It’s my fucking birthday and she wants to manhandle my food? It’s a stupid question and makes me upset even thinking about it now. She felt offended when I said I didn’t want her to touch my lobster, going as far as yelling at my nephew for touching it, saying, “No! Don’t touch it. It’s Hermes’ — get over here!” I ended up giving my nephew some of the tail, which he loved.

After I had eaten most of the lobster, everyone was done eating dinner so I stopped to prepare the cake. My nephews absolutely love cake, so if I wanted to have Dorothy leave (I desperately did), then I’d need to get cake going and then have time away from her (since she won’t leave without the kids). Now, I would have really loved a Harry Potter cake, but the local grocery stores didn’t have any. They had one where you can put a photo of Harry Potter on the cake, but how lame is that? I asked if they could do a sorting hat with cupcakes, but they said they weren’t allowed to do it. So then I decided I had wanted a pretty sweet Star Wars cake, but my sister told me that it’s too expensive at $45 and that it didn’t have 2 toys for my 2 nephews. So I pretty much was forced to get a MarioKart cake that had Mario and Luigi in karts on it for $23.

I wanted this cake
I wanted this cake

Even though I didn’t have the cake I really wanted, I smiled as my nephews helped me blow out my candles. They got pretty large pieces of cake and ice cream and ate it all up. The cake was decent and everyone was nice enough. Dorothy was a little annoying as she wanted me to open her cards in front of everyone RIGHT AFTER I blew the candles. First off, I wanted to just cut the damn cake and secondly, I hate opening anything in front of people. But I sucked it up and just did it, since apparently my birthday’s just one obligation after another.


When Dorothy left with her family, it became pretty peaceful. It was pretty uneventful as we planned to go to a movie later — Independence Day 2. Nothing else really happened worth noting, besides the fact that my friend was working and I was able to get 3 Finding Dory pins. The trailer for Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children looked quite amazing as well.

Looking back at it, this is not the worst birthday I’ve had. The best birthdays must have been when I was able to have a birthday party, inviting most of my elementary class over to my house. The worst birthdays must be the ones celebrated in Vietnam, where it’s hot, the cake isn’t good and the presents suck. The ultimately worst one must be when my brother planned his wedding on my birthday. I helped choose out clothes, help with the photos, was his best man in a hot suit, and went to his reception where I fought with my sister-in-law’s brother. They ended up divorcing in 2 years.


Having a summer birthday is hard, but I’ve really only started having adult birthdays. I’ve had baby birthdays, where I obviously don’t remember them. I’ve had toddler and elementary birthdays, when I have a decently big party and some guy friends of mine stay the night. I’ve had teen parties, where I would rather go to the movies and hang out with a small group of my friends around the pool. I’ve had college birthdays, where the friends still in town for summer school hangout with me.


Now, as an adult, I always thought that birthdays should decrease in importance. I do feel that getting older feels a little shittier, but I almost feel that I should make this the rock bottom of how my birthdays should be. It should never just be ‘just average’ again. I mean, lets see what’s happened on my birthday:

I also share my birthday with Sean Hayes, Chris O’Donnell, Nick Offerman, Derek Jeter, and Ariana Grande. With a birthday such as mine, why should it be just ordinary? The SCOTUS rulings above show that it’s rightfully have been a gay holiday, and it’s even doubled as most big city PRIDE’s happen around now, including London, Seattle, Chicago, New York, San Francisco, and Dublin, to name a few.


From now on, I think I should have a very gay birthday, around the friends that enjoy my homosexuality and with my cute lover Perseus by my side. I’m everything but ordinary.



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