BY TONY ZIMBARDI—LE MONS

When a boy likes a boy...

“Where’s Ray and Jake, Papa?” “I’m sure they’re on the way, sweetie,” I respond to Jaime as we wait for them to arrive with their two kids for brunch. We’re standing outside of Patty’s in Toluca Lake because, amongst other things, they have placemats the kids can color on. They don’t, however, have the Mickey Mouse pancakes they have at Four ‘N 20 on Laurel Canyon, the ones where they make the ears out of batter and the eyes and mouth out of small pineapple chunks. These are the things parenthood causes you to ponder when deciding upon a place to meet friends for a Sunday brunch; gone are the days when this sort of decision was based upon who makes the best Mimosa or Bloody Mary.

“So, how are plans coming for the wedding,” Jake asks me. We’re now all seated, four gay men and four kids. “Daddy duty day,” some straight strangers inquire from across the isle. We politely chuckle back at the inference of a bunch of resting moms somewhere. “The wedding is coming along fine. We’ve got the church, tuxes and flowers all picked out. The boys look adorable in their tuxes. We still have to get music, food and a photographer,” I respond. “I read in your column your dad’s not coming, huh? That’s too bad. I know my parents would never come to something like a gay wedding,” Jake offers. “Well actually, that’s the news of the week,” I answer. “He seems to have bowed to peer pressure, he’s now coming!” “Really?” Jake registers surprise. I sip my coffee. “Yeah, I think everyone shamed him into it, most pleasantly, his wife, my stepmother—a born again Christian who actually puts her family before her religion or politics.“ “Really?” Again, he’s surprised. “Yeah, I have to commend her,” I go on, “she once said something to me like, ‘Tony, my religion tells me to think one way about people like you, but my experience of you tells me to think exactly the opposite.’ I took that as the highest of compliments,” I share.

“So are you glad he’s coming after all?” Jake asks. “I am. I know it sounds so trite, but now I can give up being mad at him for not coming,” I answer, cutting up Edward’s pancakes. “So,” I change topics, “how are things in the new house, are you unpacked yet?” “It’s coming along,” Jake responds. “I’m glad the move is over, we still have a ton of unpacking to do.” Edward, who’s all along been sitting between us, immersed in coloring, suddenly chimes in: “Hey, do you live with Ray?” “Yes, I do.” Jake answers. “But why? Why do you live with him?” “Well, because sometimes when two people like each other, they decide to live together. Sometime it’s a girl and a boy; sometimes it’s a boy and a boy.” “Oh, you mean the way Dad likes Papa?” “Yes,” Jake replies, “The way your Dad likes your Papa.”

In the next installment: The “big day” marches closer.

Tony Zimbardi, Psy.D., is a psychotherapist in private practice in West Hollywood. More of his writing can be found at drtonyzimbardi.com.