Spouse and I were talking last night and the conversation turned to new territory for us - coming out to our fathers. It's interesting to me (but admittedly perhaps not so for you) that after 13 years of togetherness, we still have uncovered conversation material.
Serge was about 18 and he and his brother went to visit Dad. Dad lived apart from Mom as they had divorced several years prior. Brother, being a rather hyper problem child, tended to dominate all family conversations. Brother had eyes on a new car and was very excited about it but didn't want to boast outright and, because they had just talked about the car on the way over, prodded Serge, "Tell him. You know, go ahead, tell him."
So Serge turned to his father and said, "Okay, papa. I have to tell you I'm gay."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NOT THAT!" shrieked brother, additionally incensed that the focus of the conversation had loosed itself from his power. (Incidentally, I was cracking up laughing when he told this part. I don't think his brother was ever really "down" with the homo thing, so it's even more deliciously ironic that he caused the conversation in the first place.)
Father and Serge agreed to discuss it further later, and in the end, father didn't have any trouble adapting to the news.
In my case, I had waited longer to tell my father, largely because it had gone so poorly with my mother. It was quite the surprise for me when he called me up one day and asked point blank, "So how was the pride parade?" (He was fishing with an educated guess here.)
The previous day, I had gone to the gay pride parade in Los Angeles with friends, and immediately understanding the implications of my answer, stammered "Uh, um. It was really fun, actually."
The bag having loosed its feline contents, I learned that father was more wounded over the fact that I had kept it secret from him than the actual news itself. I was so relieved at how "no big deal" it was.