The Light Gave Me Back

Ireland is coming to the end of a three year pilot of Basic Income for Artists.

2000 artists received €325 a week for three years, and every euro paid to participants resulted in society receiving €1.39 in return.

as an idiot teenager he accidentally travelled to the soviet union with a literal KGB agent and did not realize it until he arrived back in the UK six months later. (the agent in question was more of a paper pusher than anything super dangerous just ftr.)

visited lenin’s tomb wearing a john lennon jacket, thinks he was very clever about it

after he flunked out of school in the 1960s, he ended up living on a beach in greece with a bunch of other expat burnouts, which means he spent a lot of his time drunk or high off his gourd. evidently one night while extremely intoxicated, he decided to take a small dinghy out onto the ocean for ??? error 404 reason not found, capsized the damn thing, and then just. picked a direction at random, and started swimming. he miraculously reached the beach and realized afterwards that he’d just capsized and lost his friend’s boat instead of his own. so, you know, well done. very undiagnosed adhd of him.

he claims a nun he visited in italy cured him of a toothache when he jokingly asked her to pray for him to get better

same visit to italy: claims he was stalked by a werewolf

accidentally ran over his first serious girlfriend with his motorcycle. this is how they met. they shared an ambulance to the hospital

nearly got us both killed when i was 6 years old by taking us out on a lake in the middle of a goddamn tornado warning, thus giving me a fear of boats that i needed like 15 years to recover from. thanks dad

got tipsy at a bar on december 30th one year, the whole staff convinced him it was the 31st, so he came tottering home to wish me a happy new year a day early. bless him

in 2007 we literally bumped into barack obama together. my father: “you really are quite tall, aren’t you” “that’s what i keep hearing”

(honestly we're still Like This but that's beside the point)

anyway back in 2006 when both of us had pretty unstable housing situations and weren't yet living together, my dad mentioned to me over lunch one day that he'd found a good deal on an apartment in the city. this was great news to me since at this point my dad was living about an hour and a half away from me with a woman he'd recently split up from (who had never liked me, and the feeling was mutual, so no small loss there). all in all it seemed like great news, and i was even pleased to discover he'd have a roommate in the form of another grumpy old man we'll call john.

fast-forward to a couple of weeks later: my father has moved out of his old apartment with his ex and into this new apartment in the city, and he excitedly invited me over to take a look at it. and it was very nice! the building was old but had very solid bones and he was endearingly fond of the old-fashioned radiator in one corner because it reminded him of his boarding school days back in the UK, so basically this place gave him all the good nostalgic vibes of being back in the UK without actually having to deal with the UK lol. and so he's giving me the tour, we're having a wander around, and then i notice that there is only one bedroom. and there is only one bed. in this apartment that he is sharing with his grumpy old man friend named john.

"where are you sleeping?"

"*blink* in the bedroom, of course."

"*blinkblink* of course."

so at this point i feel it necessary to emphasize that i am an out bisexual woman, and while my dad and i had never, ever, ever had any overt discussion about the subject at this point, like... he knew. i knew he knew. and he knew that i knew that he knew, and he was fine with it. a lot of our relationship has functioned like this, like there are just things that We Know that we don't talk about because of the aforementioned Extreme Britishness of a Certain Generation, and honestly it hasn't caused us many problems! but this also meant that at this moment, i was without any means of discussing the gay elephant in the room, which was that my dad had just moved in with his grumpy old man friend named john, and they were apparently sharing both a bedroom and a bed. because we just didn't talk about this part of our lives.

but also: i'm bi! he knows i'm bi! surely he doesn't feel like he can't tell me that he and his grumpy old man friend named john have become confirmed bachelors together? i was a little wounded but also determined not to make it about me, so i sulked about it in silence and said nothing.

so for about the next six months, i kept trying to give him little opportunities to tell me The Truth™️. i would send him links to cute articles or opinion pieces about gay men embracing who they are later in life--not for any reason, obviously not, these were just interesting articles that aligned with our respective politics, and wasn't it such a wonderful thing to be true to yourself? and dutifully my dad read all of them and was very effusively positive about all of these stories, and would chat in earnest about the Changing Times with me whenever i brought them up. and so i'd be sitting on my side of the cafe table or whatever all 🥹 waiting, waiting, waiting for The Moment when my dad would finally share this part of my life with me--and it never fucking happened.

finally, after like half a year of /gestures @ all of the above, this, i decided i was going to just suck it up and ask him directly if there was 'anyone in his life that he might want to tell me about,' because i just couldn't take it anymore, i couldn't keep acting like i didn't know. and--and i should have mentioned this earlier, because it absolutely influenced both my certainty that he was in a relationship, and also that he was hiding something from me--he'd been SO cagey about inviting me over again after that first visit. and sometimes when i'd give him a call, i could tell that i had, uh, interrupted something, and we would both hastily hang up the phone and then never acknowledge the conversation again. but also when my dad had been seeing women in the past, i would normally be introduced to them at least by the six month mark if he thought there was a chance they might, you know, stick around. but at this point he hadn't even mentioned he was seeing anyone, let alone that this person might be a man. so there was tension here, of a kind, and i finally decided we just couldn't go on like this.

so i took my dad out to dinner, and after we'd both sat down and talked about everything else we could possibly talk about, i took the plunge and just asked him bluntly. this is what happened:

me: so..... are you..... seeing anyone, right now?

my dad, turning red as a tomato and avoiding eye contact: ah, well.

me internally like "okay. this is the moment. you're prepared for this. be kind, be supportive, this isn't about you. this is very hard for him! he is Extremely British and an Older Man of a Certain Generation. let him take his time.": 🥹?

my dad, who looks like he wants to become one with his restaurant chair: ......yes, i suppose i have met someone.

me, with growing relief and delight: 🥹🥹🥹?

my dad, after draining the last of his beer: you see, well..... i've begun seeing your mother's best friend, lisa.

me: what

i am experiencing a moment here

my dad, extremely chagrined: yes, i imagine this must be something of a shock. i wasn't sure how to tell you--

me: but what about john?

my dad, looking extremely confused: who?

me, gesturing wildly: john! your roommate, john?

my dad, still looking extremely confused: i don't have a roommate named john

me: but you told me you were moving in with your friend john!

my dad, experiencing a little lightbulb moment: oh, john [last name]! no, i was just taking over the lease of his old apartment for him. why did you think he was my roommate?

me: ....i thought he was your boyfriend, actually

my dad: what

me: *explains The Whole Thing*

my dad, sagely scratching his chin: in retrospect i suppose i could have been clearer when describing my living arrangements

the couple at the adjacent table, dead silent and clearly trying not to broadcast the fact that they are dropping so many eaves on this conversation: 👀

the moral of the story: use your fucking words.