So, it’s national coming out day, so to celebrate and honor the fact that I burned the closet doors down 14 years ago, here is my story, er…stories.
Basically I turned 18 and was like, I’m going to get some D. And I did. Ok, not really, cause it has never been that easy for me and if it had been…we’ll just let our minds wander with that one. Anyway, there are a few versions of me coming out, because, what people don’t tell you, is that it has to happen multiple times.
1. You have to come out to yourself, which is awful. For me that happened while on AOL m4m chatrooms, also where I learned how to type really quickly thanks to AIM. But sitting in the dark in a cold sweat, talking to people who were just down the street or across the country or on the other side of the world (ok, probably not the other side of the world, cause it was AOL afterall) was my first gay experience. It would have been much gayer if photos didn’t download one pixel at a time and we didn’t have dialup.
2. You come out to your best friend, who just so happens to be a lesbian. While sitting on West Cliff drive overlooking a vast ocean and muching Burger King fries, I get up the nerve to tell her I’m “bi” to which she responds with “I think you’re gay.” Newsflash, she was right. Gay boys, never doubt your lesbians, they are there to keep you safe, away from bad boyfriends, and take your sweater vests when you can’t fit in them anymore.
3. You come out to your parents. At least I did, to my mom, cause I knew she’d tell my dad, whom I was scared of. After I told my mother, she cried, like, a lot. She wouldn’t look at me for a good two weeks afterwords and there was just a lot of silence between us, which was awful, because we were so close. How she could have been shocked by the revelation that I was a raging homosexul is beyond me, maybe it’s because I had not yet become raging and was just quietly dull at that point. Anyway, when she did finally get up the courage to talk to me, it wasn’t great. The subjects mostly centered around the cliche; who had abused me; did I not feel like I was loved by my father; I just hadn’t met the right girl; do you want to become a woman now; and of course, “you’re not gay, but you’re going to therapy to make sure of it.” (side notes: I was never abused. My dad was awesome, I was just scared of him cause he was mean. I met lots of awesome girls, but I wanted nothing to do with them beyond chit-chat. I have no desire to become a woman. She never got me into therapy because it would have been like putting toothpaste back in the bottle at that point)
4. You come out to your family. If your mother hasn’t spread the word that you’re A GAY to her siblings (mine didn’t trust me, she told me to make sure I kept quiet about it as she had no idea how her family would react), at some point, your cousins will ask. It’ll go something like this:
Cousin: Are you gay?
Cousin: (turns head and screams at other cousins) I TOLD YOU HE WAS GAY!
Me: So you knew?
Cousin: Of course we knew
Me: Well why didn’t anyone tell me!?
Cousin: We thought we did
Me: Letting your friends call me a faggot while driving past me walking to lunch during highschool doesn’t count
Cousin: Well we knew
5. Your friends. Since I started coming out at the tender age of 18, while I was still in highschool, the majority of my friends were going off to college and I’d only see them at holidays (I did not go anywhere right off the bat, instead went to High School part II down the street, yay community college). So I never bothered with that one. When I made new friends from scratch after that, it was just something I started off with them knowing about me, way easier that way.
But basically I don’t feel like I ever really had to come out, cause well, lets be honest here, I speak. So that’s a dead give away right there. If the guys in my gym don’t hear my speak, then I’m sure the glittery shoes and sometimes audible singing along to Britney should really tip them off.