We went home to my parents’ house to look at wedding venues around their place the weekend after the Pulse shooting. This was two days after my first PTSD episode, triggered by the news.

The only thing my dad thought to do to console me that weekend was to essentially call me a faggot for wearing a bandana 😕

When we got back from touring venues, I asked if he wanted to see pictures of the vineyard we were thinking of booking for the wedding.

“No, I don’t really care about that.”

One of the wedding venues we were interested in that day wasn’t interested in hosting a gay wedding.