My father is gay

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When my dad came out to me, it wasn't his being gay that was a shock. It was the fact that I'd spent two decades of my life thinking he was straight. I mean, what was I supposed to think?

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In the Christian parenting books my dad wrote, we were always the most perfect devout family. When I found out he was secretly trolling for gay sex online, I became obsessed with unmasking the truth. My brothers started recording as soon as they hit the parking lot.

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Being a teenager is hard enough what with all the angst and hormones and hating yourself and overachieving. It was his weekend to have my brother and me stay at his place. He was taking the long way to his apartment and was smoking like a chimney.

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S am Khalaf and his son Riyadh used to call themselves the two musketeers. When Riyadh was growing up in Bray, south of Dublin, they were inseparable. Like twins or best friends, they say.

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Scott Takacs, a year-old and father of three, penned a personal essay about his experience coming out as a gay man to his sons. Read about his journey below in his own words. I was 42 years old when I came out to my wife.

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Excerpts from the book :. She came out nearly 20 years ago when I was in high school. It was a raw and difficult time.

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My father is a Frenchman who moved to the Netherlands 24 years ago to raise a family with my mother. Being a curious person with a love of culture, he was soon talking and acting like a Dutch guy—raising my brother and me in the Dutch language. Once a week, my dad would call his father and siblings in France.

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You could say I had a typical suburban middle-class upbringing. I grew up in Stanmore, a commuter town in north-west London. Our family was financially comfortable and my dad was a successful businessman. My mother assumed the duty of doting housewife and mother to a slightly spoilt only child — yours truly.

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I was born within the conventions of Mormon doctrine. I testified on the first Sunday of the month. I participated in all the primary and the Young Women.

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We were on the back porch, smoke rolling up from the nearby barbeque grill, the smell of chicken roasting in the air. My father was more silent than usual. He took a hard swig from his beer bottle. You want to live that lifestyle?

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