I never really cared what my Father thought about me being bi because he wasn't really there...even though I lived with his parents. My Mom basically told me I was into guys when I was around eleven which I told her was not true...denial and all. That's why telling her when I was sixteen that I had a boyfriend was easy, but telling my grandmother was another story. I was a freshmen in college when I finally came out to my grandmother and it was the most terrifying thing I have ever done in my whole life. It was a rushed thing because I had heard that someone was going to tell her. I couldn't let her find out from someone else so I told her one morning before going to class. I promise I almost had a freaking nose bleed from all the damn tension that was in the silence after I told her I was dating the guy she thought was my best friend. She very calmly said she thought that was what was going on, then started sobbing and asking if she did something...if she made me that way by cuddling my too much. I started crying too and told her she didn't and that she was an amazing mother (because that's what she was to me) and care giver. We cried together for a good thirty minutes, her because she thinks God would be angry with me and me because I had made her doubt/question herself, but in the end she said she still loved me (she also said she still loved Tanner). She didn't let Tanner, my boyfriend, come over to the house for about two weeks after that she didn't really have a big problem about it but was still a bit put off by it. Now, she doesn't even care that we are together and have an apartment but she still doesn't tell people.