I spend most of Thanksgiving milling around an overheated room holding a glass of wine and making conversation with aunts, great aunts, second cousins, third cousins, fourth cousins twice removed and the great uncle of the neighbor down the street. At this year’s turkey-chomping fiesta, only about one in 10 of the people in the room will be unaware that I’m gay.
Normally, I’m totally down to talk about my sexuality (read: overshare). But I’ve been working 50-hour weeks, freelancing in the evenings and trying to use whatever spare time I have to keep myself in shape. In other words, I really, really need a vacation. And during that vacation, I do not want to broach difficult topics—such as why I’m gay or who I’m seeing. I want to scarf down gravy-smothered turkey, eat mashed potatoes, drink red wine and go to bed early. Keep reading »

