Calum McSwiggan

My Vietnamese Brother

In Eat, Gay on June 25, 2012 at 5:53 pm

My Vietnamese Brother

Move out of your comfort zone. You can only grow if you are willing to feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new’

– Brian Tracy

As I hopped off the train in Frascati, a town famed for Miss Frascati (pictured above) and renowned for its delicious and extremely alcoholic white wine, I met the family I would be living with for the next couple of weeks- they were the average Italian family, charming and well groomed, passionate and welcoming, loving and friendly. They first introduced me to their daughter on the platform, and told me that they had another special somebody for me to meet back home.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, I was half-hoping that they had found me an Italian Stallion, but when they pushed open the door to their home and I heard the gentle pitter-patter of teeny-tiny feet, I knew that it was something even better- they’d found me a new best friend.

A five year old Vietnamese boy bumbled around the corner, charging towards me and yelling ‘Ciao Bello!’ excitedly. He latched onto my leg and looked up at me with a wide and cheeky grin, he was the most adorable creature I’d ever met, and we instantly became friends.  

We were inseparable, him and I, when I got home from work at the end of each day, he’d run into my bedroom, sit on the end of the bed and pull funny faces or sing songs about monkeys. We were fascinated by each other, whenever I turned my back I’d find him rummaging through my backpack, pulling things out and making a dreadful mess, examining every item with his wide expressive eyes before putting them all back in the wrong place- usually I hate children touching my things but he was a special exception.

I was amazed by how attentive and loving his adoptive parents were, constantly telling me what a precious and special child he was, and revealing that it cost them an astounding £25,000 to go through the adoption process. They showed me scores of baby pictures of him in Vietnam where they flew out to collect him, and they both welled up with sheer pride as they showed me pictures of his first steps. Their children were their world in a way that I’d never before witnessed.

So, then, imagine my horror when I came back from having a shower to find my beautiful new brother holding my dildo. Hidden away in the recesses of my suitcase I had a clone of an ex boyfriend’s penis- we’d bought a kit online and created a latex copy of his member, thinking it would be funny, and now a Vietnamese child was waving it around in front of me- it was clean and unused but I was still absolutely mortified.

Not knowing what else to do,  I snatched it out of his hands and stuffed it back into my suitcase; confused by my sudden aggression he scampered off to get his mother. Moments later they returned and she told me that I had a toy he wanted to play with.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, I said in the most unconvincing fashion.

He immediately ran over to my suitcase, yelled something in Italian, and began rummaging through my things- I watched in absolute terror, praying that he wouldn’t find it again and whip it out in front of the protective woman who loved him so much that she paid £25,000 to adopt him.

Thankfully she pulled him away before he could find it again but for the duration of my stay there I had to play hide the dildo every single day, thinking up new and inventive ways to keep it out of sight.

I’d like to say I’ve learned a valuable lesson from this- nothing is private when you’re living with young children, and it’s an alarmingly difficult task to keep things out of reach. Considering what had happened, I decided it would be a smart move to hide my copy of Bareback Skater Boys 3 in my Kylie Minogue CD case.

I got quite the fright when I played musical chairs with eighty children a week later and decided to whack some Kylie on.

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