My dear friends…O.K…ready for the next episode of “You Mean You Want To Meet Your Real Father?” Please prepare yourself…this episode is even scarier than the last one….

Soooo….here’s the deal: I had always been told that Hugh was my real father. My mother married him when I was five and to this very day, I have no memory of this blessed event.

You see, I have no memory until I’m seven. That’s when I fell on the ice, pierced the back of my skull with some sharp object and WOKE UP on the operating table….but that is another story for another time…

Any way, as far as I “knew” this maniac was my real father.

Check it out….my family had my birth certificate forged to show that Hugh was my birth-father. I still have this document.

So, in the end, I had no idea.

And now Nana had spilled the beans…while I was dissociating, covered in broken glass and holding a bowl of strawberry shortcake, she had unwittingly let the BIG CAT out of the bag.

She turned white…all the color drained out of her skin.

She had NO IDEA.

Setting my shortcake down on the tiny desk,, taking me by the hand, she guides me back into the family room…back to the house of horrors.

Leaves me standing at the entry way.

Raging into the room…all 5’4 inches of her southern decorum flies out the window and she says:

“He doesn’t know….? You never told him…?

Time literally stops.

Mouths open and no words emerge.

Stuttering my mother finally blurts out:

“We didn’t know how.”

Or some such bull shit…frankly, I’ve STILL blocked out pieces of this.

Believe me, writing this down, telling this story is a big deal.

And so now I have to stand there, after being smashed into a coffee table ater asking for a piece of scotch tape, I now have to deal with…absorb and somehow process the astounding TRUTH:


Soooooo…this is what they told me:

A story so outrageous my mind still reels…

this is where things get really, really funky:

You see, Hugh had been taking me with him to gay brothels in the city for about a year.

You can imagine what this did to my adolescent mind AND body….its just too much to go into here.

Hugh was a bisexual, angry, drug addled person, vice president of a huge ad agency in NYC

and had made me his slave.

He would periodically (all 6’4 of him) back me up into a corner, choke me with his elbow and say stuff like:

“You are mine…you can never escape…I own you.”

For real, this abuse and brainwashing was a steady, regular experience for me, had been going on for quite a long time and continued for many years AFTER this event I’m sharing with you now.

AND this brainwashing, mind control ad agency manipulation shit was happening right along with this seriously funky sex stuff. (you really can’t begin to imagine what that entailed…the stories of what went down at home, in the city, at the office…would curl your hair.) I blocked this reality for years and years.

Sooooo…this is what they told me and particularly, Nana. This exchange was one of those where people are talking about you like you’re not even in the room….even though you ARE.

My mother, with the strange backup of Hugh….who had not ten minutes before ground me face down into the rug littered with shattered glass and magazines… says:

“We don’t want him to ever meet his father because he’ll turn him into a homosexual.”

Oh really….

Yep….that’s what they said.

This rap went on for several minutes.

My grandmother couldn’t speak.

I was passed any state of cognizance…

So you understand….

What they, my parents were saying was this:

The guy I thought was my father…the sexually abusive (we are taking homosexual father son incest stuff here…) total manic was NOT my father.

And now, suddenly, I had a real father, who I had absolutely no knowledge of whatsoever… on top of that,

Apparently HE WAS GAY.

And all the while Hugh was doing his thing with me…

And now, I’m being told the reason my real father’s very existence has been purposefully kept from me AND that the reason I can NEVER meet my real father is because he’s gay.

And on top of all that, apparently Harry (yes that’s my real father’s name…may as well start using it) is such an evil, predatory queer devil that he will, upon meeting me, his son, immediately begin to fulfill the secret gay agenda, somehow sexually indoctrinating and bringing me into the fold.


I know now….after decades of work and self analysis that this precise exchange, this exact moment…this specific event is one of the pivotal experiences that lead to a deep division within my identity and consciousness.

The dichotomous disconnect between:

1. Hugh and his psycho-sexual incestuous behaviors, the imposition of said behaviors directly on my young identity, along with my thinking…no…actually being TOLD this was my real father.

2. Discovering that he was NOT my father, in real time connection with the horrible glass grinding events of not more than ½ hour ago.

3. The incredible mind blowing fact that Hugh was doing to me the exact same horrible things that I was being told my real father would do to me because he was gay.

But Hugh was gay and doing those very things.


The dualistic dissonance was too great…

Truly, in spite of my considerable powers of observation and dissociation, I couldn’t hold the two realities together as one.

You can see how this massive EXTERNAL dichotomy would produce a precise “mirror” a fractious INTERNAL split within my mind and then my identity itself.

And this event, as momentous and formative as it was, was not a solitary experience…it was one of many, a reality that stretched out for years.

Thanks for reading my friends….see you tomorrow…d