That's not very ladylike.

On the topic of why those who have been disowned for being gay may not want to watch Philadelphia all alone on a Tuesday evening:

The end scene of this film (spoiler alert,Tom Hanks dies) is poignant music matched with poignant childhood movies of treasured moments. Somehow, all moments, be it happy or sad, bring me back to the absence of the unconditional presence of my family. There is no replacing that feeling, and no healing of that wound. NONE.

A few weeks ago my wife mentioned to me that she had no idea what I looked like as a baby, or even a small child…that she saw a little girl and thought “oh I bet that’s what Mel looked like when she was that age” but she honestly had NO idea. I guess it had never dawned on me that we never had that moment in all new relationships where you go to meet the parents and you look at embarrassing (yet adorable) baby pictures. My wife has never seen a picture of me that she couldn’t find in one of my yearbooks, she has no idea what I even looked like any earlier than middle school. When Nat and I were getting married my best friend attempted to get a few old pictures from my family to put in an album for me, but they politely said no they would not turn over any family photos. Soooooo…when I see images like these of family, and acceptance, and grace in loving your children, I feel…well…cheated (for a lack of a better word) or maybe just wounded? Or how about sad. I just feel more sad than you can ever possibly imagine, because to be completely honest…I really LIKED and LOVED my family, and I miss them. I just miss them.

Life as a Gay