I despised my father when I was growing up because we were opposites. Now, we're learning to connect for the first time.
- I hated my father when I was growing up because we were complete opposites.
- I didn't like soccer, but he was obsessed with it. We had nothing in common, so he often ignored me.
When I was a teenager, I decided that I hated my father.
I'm not exactly sure when this idea birthed itself, but I'm assuming it had something to do with the fact that we were nothing alike. He played soccer and was obsessed with it, while I despised the sport. He was masculine and had an old-school mentality, while I dressed up as Trini, the yellow power ranger, on my fourth birthday.
My father, Paul, grew up in Greece and embodied the macho European man. He's now 60 and still ripped — like old-school Arnold Schwarzenegger ripped. He's an alpha male who resembles the Hulk, and every guy that meets him idolizes him.
Now that I'm older, our relationship is still complicated, but I am learning to see a new, softer side to him.
Growing up, it wasn't easy having Paul as a father
I always felt that my dad had more in common with my older brother than me. They're both straight, and I'm gay.
As a kid, I was the campy, binge-reading, anime-watching gymnast who fought monsters in the backyard with a stick and talked to my grandmother's plants.
My father always said my brother was the athlete, even though I was just as much of an athlete. One could argue that I surpassed my brother's athleticism when I competed at the Cheerleading World Championships. But, of course, you weren't on my father's radar if you weren't playing soccer.
This led to many nights where I crawled in a ball under my bedsheets and cried myself to sleep.
Deep down — like Mariana Trench deep — I think I was always jealous of my father and brother's relationship. It seemed so natural, so easy. I always felt invisible in my father's eyes.
I remember thinking: What do I have to do to get noticed by him?
I've been determined to take back what I feel has been taken away from me: a loving father who cares about his neglected, gay son
I've felt a little estranged from my father since I was a kid. As complete opposites, it felt like he wasn't even my father. I've long dreamed of connecting with him on a deeper level.
One day when I came home from work early, I was surprised to see my father sitting on the couch watching a K-drama in his robe. He had a chamomile tea in one hand and a pistachio nougat in the other.
I decided to sit next to him to watch this mysterious show. Twenty minutes in, something happened that completely freaked me out and shook me to my core.
I noticed we moved at the same time in the same way. I know something like this happens all the time, but for me, this was huge. I never noticed that my father and I had the same mannerisms.
I started to realize: I really am my father's child. It was the first step in a long journey.
When my grandfather died, I started to see the softer side of my dad
Recently, my grandfather — my dad's dad — died. I immediately noticed a change in my father.
Because of his grandfather's death, I'm sure he started questioning morality and his existence on this planet, so my dad suddenly started building a communication bridge with me. Suddenly, he wanted to talk and know how my workday went. He wanted to discuss an assignment I was struggling with and what I was planning to write for my thesis. He wanted to know how I was feeling.
I had dreamed of this moment for so long. But now that it was finally here, it was freaking me out a little.
I didn't know how to navigate the conversation without an awkward pause. I didn't know how to ask about his feelings. But he was trying, so I had to try too.
To a queer who always felt like the magical unicorn among the average brown horses on the farm, this meant he was willing to patch up our relationship.
The more we spoke, and the older I got, the more I realized he was doing his best to parent someone who was nothing like him. And now, I am learning to no longer despise him.