Boys Will Be Boys

My aunt was rich. To me at least. She lived in a giant house with a pool and had a life of luxury compared to us. She also looked exactly like my dad in a wig, which I thought was hilarious every time she’d load up her camper full of foster kids and drive up from LA to the central valley where we lived.

I remember that she only had boys and one boy in particular slept with her in my bed when they stayed over, while all the others stayed in the camper.

He was her “boyfriend” according to my parents.

She was nearly or just over seventy years old and he was just a teenager of about fourteen, so I thought they were full of shit. I also didn’t believe them when they told me she was only allowed to foster boys after being caught pimping the girls out to her wealthy friends at parties.

I remember when she died and they came back from her funeral, laughing that the boy, now a legal adult, had showed up with his boyfriend. For some reason they thought it was hilarious that this old woman may have turned a young, impressionable boy gay.

It wasn’t until I was older that I realized there may have been some truth to it all, which is horrifying. I also realized just how fucked up my parents were to allow that to go on in our house. In MY bed.

God I hope there’s a hell for people like them.

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