Why I Got This Tattoo, Dad

I'm thirty years old and I've got a really obvious hickey on my neck and I'm hoping my dad doesn't notice when I meet him shortly. I'm behaving like a teenager, except when I was a teenager I never met Latin Americans who were into zines and revolution and subverting the binary gender system. You know, once in a while I go on Friends Reunited and see that most of the people I went to school with are married with children, which presumably makes them happy but seems like an alien world to me. Mostly I'm out gallivanting and hopping around countries with no idea what's going to happen next, and I expect this to continue indefinitely.

Speaking of marriage, though, and despite my lack of any experience in that department, I got word a few days ago that a submission of mine will be included in a forthcoming Seal Press anthology called Ask Me About My Divorce. I'm delighted, not least because it's my first appearance in a book that isn't porn, which means I can tell my dad about it. That said, there's plenty of material in it that he may be none too thrilled about: I swear like whoa, I get off with lots of people, and perhaps worst of all, the working title is 'Why I Got This Tattoo'. This is controversial because I've spent the best part of a decade making sure my shoulders were strategically covered any time my dad was around. I was able to come out as queer to him: that was important enough that I felt he should know (though I wonder if he hasn't conveniently forgotten). But I saw no point in rocking the boat with tattoos when I already knew his feelings on the matter. But I am thirty years old and maybe it's finally time to come clean.