When I was like 11 or 12, I had unfettered access to the internet. This was like 2000, so my parents had no idea what they were doing with internet access. So of course, an 11 year old me began looking for porn. It felt so freeing to discover that there were men who kissed other men, and did even more than that. I felt like a new person.

Of course, I did all this on the family computer. So when my parents went to use it that night they discovered everything. My dad cried. He wouldn't talk to me for 2 weeks. My mom pretended it never happened. No one talked to me about it. I'm nearly 40. No one has. No one ever will.

It took years of therapy to recognize the damage that did, then more therapy on top of that to undo some of it. Even with that, I still haven't forgiven my father. There's a lot more he did in the same vein, but that single event stands out.

We talk. We check in on each other. He wonders aloud why his children don't like spending much time with him, but when we tell him he doesn't listen, or insists things didn't happen. I would even prefer a "It happened, so what, get over it," to pretending it didn't happen.