"Weird" that was the word people used to describe my family. Sum it all up into one word, weird. It was either that or the occasional "dysfunctional" which were the words most commonly used among others. But dysfunctional hit too close to home, pun intended.

I didn’t care what people had to say anyway, they simply judged by what they saw. And what they saw was a broken family. Parents never at home, constantly changing houses, teenage son, unsteady occupations and yes, their favorite, the gay boy.

All of these things never got to me though because I knew for a fact that I was loved.

My parents are musicians. Mom a singer, singing at various clubs and Dad a guitarist who tours the world with famous bands. So it wasn’t a surprise we shifted our residence at least twice each year, no surprise at all.

At the age of seventeen I was quite capable of taking care of myself, with years of practice of living alone most of the time anyway. My parents, whenever home would spend every moment with me and when I told them my closet secret, that I was gay, they didn’t really care. Many others cared though and at least one person from each neighborhood we moved into would tell my parents they weren’t raising me right. And generally Mom or Dad would tell them to mind their own business, only with a choice of more colorful words.

My parents are really frank people so I was the only 6 year old who knew where babies really came from. I asked them one day and I was told, just like that. And so, being into boys isn’t that bad after all, it was less painful.

Once there was a teacher who instructed I go for counseling when I started school, telling me I needed guidance elsewhere which I would lack with parents like mine. But then again she was the one to tell me babies are delivered by a stock. So you could guess how much I really cared about what she said.

So now this was me, living alone until my parents got their divorce. Most people feel sorry for me when they heard that my dad wanted to marry someone else but that change's to surprise when I tell them my mother's going to be the one singing at the wedding. She was already thinking of what to wear for the occasion.

We are a happily weird family indeed.

My parents are both the same age. At 35 years old my Dad still looks young and handsome while Mom doesn’t look a day over 25. It was no secret to me that I wasn’t exactly a planned baby, my parents getting married 3 months before I was born kind of gave that away. They didn’t ever speak of it though but I knew they didn’t love each other,