I would eat alone and leave some for Dad to eat when he finally got home from the bar he had grown fond of. Then I would go up to my room and do some ...ore homework or read Mad magazine or something. I would then usually jerk off and go to sleep. When Dad finally got home, I would often wake up as a result of the noise he made, stumbling and cursing as he made his way drunk through the house.The night I became a fag I had woken up from Dad’s ruckus. I heard him moving around downstairs, followed. I hadn’t expected that. I sat there, shaking, emotions that had been suppressed hitting me like a ton of bricks, and I couldn’t stop it. I loved him, and it was just hitting me, full force. I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him what I was feeling, but nothing came out. I felt tears roll down my cheeks, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I just stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. He stared back, understanding what was in my eyes. In the blink of an eye, we were upstairs in. More

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