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My mother thought me being gay was a death sentence.

Deep down, my mom had long suspected I was gay... Much of her anger and hurt came from her sense of betrayal that she was the last to be told.

My mother and father could not handle even me being gay. We never talked about it, really.

One day it was about getting married that mother talked with me, and I said I was so glad that when you didn't like being married, or got tired of your husband, you could get Unmarried.

And for anyone who ever thought that Ellen and I broke it off because of sexuality, you couldn't be more mistaken. And for anyone who thought my mother's prayers had anything to do with me marrying a man, forget it.

My mom's never been married. I've never even seen my mom kiss a dude.

My mom gave me enough self-worth to carry me through difficult experiences. She was very loving and accepting. She was like, 'Whelp, you're gay? OK, cool.'

I knew that I was a gay boy fairly early; what was interesting to me was that my mother didn't know. She made me play baseball - I had no desire to do that. I said, 'Mom, I don't like direct sunlight, I don't like bugs, I don't like grass, and I'd rather be in the house playing with your fabric samples.'

I wanted to marry a girl just like my mom.

My mother was like a sister to me, only we didn't have sex quite so often.