Blame Canada
I remember when I told my parents that I was different. The setting was rather dim -- if that is how such ambiance can be described. Lighting in Chinese restaurants is notoriously low, which is an appropriate metaphor for how I was feeling at the time. But despite all the misgivings I had for what I was about to say, I knew it had to be said. Sure, they might think I was some sort of weirdo, even a shame to our distinct family name, which had been guarded and unblemished for decades. Despite all of this, it was high time to come clean. It was time to stop living a lie.

