The Wedding: A Family's Coming Out Story by Doug Wythe, Andrew Merling, Roslyn Merling, Sheldon Merling Page A
Ads: Link
leaving both of us scarred from the combat
and wary of the other.
ROSLYN I heard
the rumblings of trouble as soon as they moved in together. Sheldon and I were
visiting New York, and Doug was away at work. The three of us, Sheldon, Andrew
and I, went out to a cute little breakfast place near the apartment they now
shared.
“I don’t know if it’s going to work out with
Doug,” confided Andrew, with a resigned, fatalistic air.
“Just because you’re having troubles, you’re
going to run away from them?” I chastised. Andrew looked away, staring back at
one of the little teddy bears that eavesdrop from the tops of the semi-circular
booths, hanging just above eye-level. “Don’t you think there’s another way
before you give up? Daddy and I have had our share of problems, but we didn’t
run away from them, we dealt with them. In the beginning we had a lot to iron
out. We had to learn to compromise and work things through.”
Though I tried to sound cool as I counseled
Andrew, I was scared. I liked Doug, and loved Andrew, and didn’t want to see
them hurt. And I feared Andrew would slide into a deep depression if he
couldn’t work this one out. At least he needed to give it a serious try. So I
kept at him.
“The issues between the two of you, finding your
place in the relationship, and defining your space, they’ll exist in every
relationship you’ll ever have. You have to learn to negotiate - both of you -
and not at the expense of the other - so you can both have a share in the
relationship, so that you’ll both feel understood.
ANDREW We turned a corner with
our first serious purchase. For months, we had two mammoth mismatched couches
crowding our living room, the leftovers of our prior, individual lives. I
finally talked Doug into selling his sofa, with the understanding that we’d go
out and purchase a new couch and loveseat. Once we found the new furniture, I’d
get rid of my own sleeper sofa.
After what seemed like eons of furious,
fruitless couch-hunting, we heard Bloomingdale’s was having a sale. I prayed
that maybe, finally, our long home furnishing nightmare would be over.
We made a beeline to the sale area, and
immediately gravitated toward a simple set in what they called “sea foam
green”. This is surprisingly quick , I thought. Doug went to find a
salesperson to set up the purchase. He took too long, because during those few
minutes I had time to doubt our decision. I slowly wandered the merchandise
floor, and surveyed the many options. By the time Doug returned, salesman in tow,
I had settled on another set. Actually, it was the same style, in a chocolate
brown.
“OK, we’re done.” Doug announced.
“Have you run it through on the credit card?”
“Yeah. Is there a problem?”
“Well, it’s just that I don’t really like that
color. What do you think about this one?” I stood proudly by my find.
“It’s way too dark. Besides, we both said we
liked the green.”
“I didn’t really like it that much.”
“You liked it enough to agree to buy it two
minutes ago.”
“I don’t like that shade, and it’ll show dirt.”
DOUG The salesman must hear this
kind of argument all the time. He stepped back and glanced down at nothing in
particular. It was a nice effort, but he hadn’t become invisible, and I was
suitably embarrassed over having a brawl in front of a stranger.
“What’s wrong with the brown?” asked Andrew.
We picked apart and debated the pros and cons of
sea foam green and chocolate brown like the fate of Western Civilization hung
in the balance.
As I saw it, Andrew made a decision, then once I
left him alone, he began to interpret it as a compromise. Compromise was still
tough for both of us, and when it came to decoration decisions, it was
especially challenging to him. I couldn’t move a chair, or purchase a candle
without his questioning my judgment, and then overruling me.
After an interminable argument, during
and wary of the other.
ROSLYN I heard
the rumblings of trouble as soon as they moved in together. Sheldon and I were
visiting New York, and Doug was away at work. The three of us, Sheldon, Andrew
and I, went out to a cute little breakfast place near the apartment they now
shared.
“I don’t know if it’s going to work out with
Doug,” confided Andrew, with a resigned, fatalistic air.
“Just because you’re having troubles, you’re
going to run away from them?” I chastised. Andrew looked away, staring back at
one of the little teddy bears that eavesdrop from the tops of the semi-circular
booths, hanging just above eye-level. “Don’t you think there’s another way
before you give up? Daddy and I have had our share of problems, but we didn’t
run away from them, we dealt with them. In the beginning we had a lot to iron
out. We had to learn to compromise and work things through.”
Though I tried to sound cool as I counseled
Andrew, I was scared. I liked Doug, and loved Andrew, and didn’t want to see
them hurt. And I feared Andrew would slide into a deep depression if he
couldn’t work this one out. At least he needed to give it a serious try. So I
kept at him.
“The issues between the two of you, finding your
place in the relationship, and defining your space, they’ll exist in every
relationship you’ll ever have. You have to learn to negotiate - both of you -
and not at the expense of the other - so you can both have a share in the
relationship, so that you’ll both feel understood.
ANDREW We turned a corner with
our first serious purchase. For months, we had two mammoth mismatched couches
crowding our living room, the leftovers of our prior, individual lives. I
finally talked Doug into selling his sofa, with the understanding that we’d go
out and purchase a new couch and loveseat. Once we found the new furniture, I’d
get rid of my own sleeper sofa.
After what seemed like eons of furious,
fruitless couch-hunting, we heard Bloomingdale’s was having a sale. I prayed
that maybe, finally, our long home furnishing nightmare would be over.
We made a beeline to the sale area, and
immediately gravitated toward a simple set in what they called “sea foam
green”. This is surprisingly quick , I thought. Doug went to find a
salesperson to set up the purchase. He took too long, because during those few
minutes I had time to doubt our decision. I slowly wandered the merchandise
floor, and surveyed the many options. By the time Doug returned, salesman in tow,
I had settled on another set. Actually, it was the same style, in a chocolate
brown.
“OK, we’re done.” Doug announced.
“Have you run it through on the credit card?”
“Yeah. Is there a problem?”
“Well, it’s just that I don’t really like that
color. What do you think about this one?” I stood proudly by my find.
“It’s way too dark. Besides, we both said we
liked the green.”
“I didn’t really like it that much.”
“You liked it enough to agree to buy it two
minutes ago.”
“I don’t like that shade, and it’ll show dirt.”
DOUG The salesman must hear this
kind of argument all the time. He stepped back and glanced down at nothing in
particular. It was a nice effort, but he hadn’t become invisible, and I was
suitably embarrassed over having a brawl in front of a stranger.
“What’s wrong with the brown?” asked Andrew.
We picked apart and debated the pros and cons of
sea foam green and chocolate brown like the fate of Western Civilization hung
in the balance.
As I saw it, Andrew made a decision, then once I
left him alone, he began to interpret it as a compromise. Compromise was still
tough for both of us, and when it came to decoration decisions, it was
especially challenging to him. I couldn’t move a chair, or purchase a candle
without his questioning my judgment, and then overruling me.
After an interminable argument, during
Similar Books
