Coming Out Story: The First Person

It's mandatory that I talk about my coming out.

"We're here, we're queer, get used to it!"

I've met gay people who've called themselves "Golden Gays"-- which I've learned is a person who's never slept with or done anything sexual with a girl. Now, I know each person's story is different-- but a classic "Golden Gay" might be someone who came out of the womb singing songs from the hit Broadway musical Rent so they never had to pretend to be straight. Those were the kids who were out in high school and all their friends knew and their parents have always known because, well, to be honest, how can a parent explain their son to others when he's practicing self-taught tap dancing moves in the outfield at little league practice? Often times, if they're lucky, these gays' parents come to terms with it at age 5--- "OK, cool. This one's gay, we've got 2 other boys so let's roll with this... voice lessons, tap dancing, drama classes, figure skating!!"

That being said, I've always heard that moms just know. When I come out to my parents I'll ask them and I'm suuuuure my mom will be like, "Mehh, yeah it's not a huge surprise, you did like arts and crafts as a kid..."

I must say--- I did like arts and crafts but not nearly as excessively as everyone thought. I remember getting a "build-your-own-clock" thing for Christmas from my Grandma. It came with a wooden backboard to paint with crappy colors and a little motor to make it tick. 

"You're supposed to decorate it and assemble the whole thing and then you can hang it up in your room so you'll always know what time it is!" Grandma tried selling me the concept like she was Don Draper trying to pitch this crap toy to a business executive. 

I was probably 12 years old or so and I remember my brothers' gifts were much cooler. I was bitter, "Dammit, why does everyone think I like arts and crafts?... This is gay." 

So, maybe by age 12 I had developed enough self-awareness to know that artsy stuff was for girls? Or maybe I truly stopped being interested in that stuff? Not sure, probably both, but I was definitely aware enough to be pissed about that gift. To this day I am not artsy at all. I think this issue arose because at age 7 or 8 I probably drew at a 12 year old level, so everyone thought I was a good drawer, but then all the other kids caught up and I stayed the same, so by age 12, I was an average drawer. Then other kids got even better and I still draw like a 12 year old so... whatever. I'm getting off topic. 

Anyway, I am not a "Golden Gay". I had girlfriends starting in like 5th grade or something and in middle school we would meet outside the school and make out. My best friend and I would take our girlfriends to the beach and make out on the rocks-- typical kid stuff. I wasn't even pretending at that point because I wasn't having sexual thoughts period. I had no idea what I was supposed to be feeling, so it didn't even feel wrong. I definitely wasn't thinking about having sex with the girls, it was just something fun to do and it made me popular because it was cool. Girls always had crushes on me growing up. I don't know why. I look at pictures of myself in middle school and it's terrible. TERRIBLE. 

In high school having a girlfriend meant something more serious. It pretty much meant sex would be involved, and not really knowing any better, I just went with the flow. Boys like girls. I am a boy. Therefore I like girls. Simple modus ponens: 

  

Who can argue with that logic? I liked girls and that was that. 

I followed the normal progression of things: I got handjobs in my girlfriend's bed with the door cracked open and her mother just downstairs watching TV.

Then I would get blow jobs and that was probably the most amazing thing that has still ever happened to me: the blow job. 

I started having sex at 16. A lot of sex. In cars, in parking lots, in my bed, in her bed, in her grandmas bed, in her mom's bed (the first time was actually in her mom's bed and she found the condom wrapper in the sheets and we got in trouble). Hell, we just had sex any place we could think of. Even on a piano. I don't know why... maybe it was my idea? Maybe my friends instilled the idea in me? I don't even remember but I had this notion engrained in me, "It's cool to have sex in places where you're not supposed to have sex." A piano fit that description. I thought I was a porn star or something. I wasn't. I was a homo.

Anyway, the point of this blog is to share my coming out story but I thought this background was helpful.

Despite knowing for a while, I didn't act on any gay feelings until I was 21. It was during the winter break between fall and spring semester. At that point, I still didn't tell anyone for another 3 months. I had a very close friend named Matt who was gay. He and I became very close and had an awesome relationship. I would tell him about girls and he would share stories about dudes he was into and it was just a normal friendship, except he was gay and I was straight. Read that saga in a different blog. 

Anyway, he was the best person to tell. He was respectful, smart, open, reasonable and most importantly: gay. 

The story:

I went to school in NY but I had a job interview in the state where my family lived. Matt also lived and went to college there. I stayed with my parents for the weekend and interviewed on the scheduled day. I think the interview was Friday so the plan was to hang out at home with my family on Saturday, and then drive back to NY on Sunday. So I was laying in bed that Saturday morning and I was just feeling really down. I didn't feel happy to be home like I usually did and I wasn't excited to go back to school where I was feeling stifled and sort of alone. I remember laying in bed with my laptop and without really expecting anything helpful or reassuring I typed in the words "gay + depressed". Again, I don't know what my intentions were but I ended up reading this story about a dude coming out. I would be lying if I said it was particularly eye-opening or enlightening--it wasn't... but at the same time it obviously planted a seed. 

I remember my dad busted into my room and was like "Oook kiddo! Get yo' shoes on, I'm gonna need help replacing the shingles on the roof!"

My dad is such a do-it-yourself kind of guy. He built a huge extension onto our house and pretty much does all the home maintenance stuff by himself. It's really impressive... but every time I was home from college he'd make me help, which was fine. I just wasn't in the mood that day-- but of course I agreed.

I remember being on the roof with him and being completely distracted. Barely paying attention to him and just thinking... "I should tell Matt."

I was handing my dad shingles and nails but only passively listening to whatever conversation we were having, providing just enough feedback to not appear like I was stoned. 

*Note: at this point it sounds like I'm going to come out to my dad. I don't, that thought hadn't even crossed my mind. I still haven't come out to my parents.

Not sure how long we were up there or how many shingles we replaced, but once we were done, on a whim, I hopped in the car and drove about an hour and a half to Matt's college. 

He was obviously really excited to see me and host me around. We joined up with a bunch of his friends who I'd met a few times before and we just goofed around all day and into the evening. I almost forgot why I drove up there and even had second thoughts about telling him considering my mood was very much elevated after being around friends.

Anyway, at the end of the day I was getting ready to drop Matt off at his dorm. I parked the car and said, "I think I'll come up for a bit."

So we walked up to his room and were just hanging out, talking, shooting the shit. Then I said, "So, yeah, I guess Sarah has a new boyfriend..."

Sarah was a girl I dated for 4 years.

He said, "Oh yeah, hmm that sorta sucks, are you upset about it?"

I said, "Well, actually, no. Not at all. And I think the reason is because... I'm gay."

His face showed pure shock--almost terror. Without even thinking he said, "No! No, you're not!" followed by an uncomfortable laugh.

I was smiling but not laughing. He could tell I was serious, "Yes... yes I am". 

Matt has told me the first time he came out many times. His story is a little more dramatic, which for him, is consistent with the rest of his personality. He said as the words "I'm gay" tumbled out of his mouth he felt a sensation of dizziness and separation from the world around him, like it was some surreal experience that he wasn't living, but rather watching as a spectator.

So once he could get sensible words out, he asked if I felt the same way. I said, "No, I'm not as dramatic as you are, it's barely a big deal". Then he proceeded to tell me how proud he was and how honored he felt to be the first person. He told me that he would surely never tell a soul because the first code of being gay is you never out someone. Outing someone is the worst thing you could do to a gay person who isn't ready to be exposed. (Funny because in present day time, he's outed me to a few people).

So then he proceeded to ask me questions that I wasn't immediately comfortable answering, like if I'd ever hooked up with a dude, how long I've known, why did I decide to come out now, and who, of the mutual friends we had, did I think was hot... 

I was awkward in answering these questions and even lied to spare myself some pride. I didn't want to tell him about the first dude I'd hooked up with just yet. I'd just confided a lot in him: he can know the gay exists but doesn't need to know the details of it just yet.

So it was Saturday night and we were in college so naturally there was a party going on at a nearby dorm. He asked me to spend the night and come with him but I wanted to get home and pack so I could head back to NY the following day. I told him I'd drop him off at the party on my way off campus. He then took six.... SIX shots of vodka before hopping in my car. By the time we got to the dorm, which was not even 10 minutes later, he was already starting to act goofy. I told him to have fun, he told me he was proud of me and then he hopped out to join his friends at the party.

I would be lying if I said I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders or that I now saw the world with new clarity... nope. Things were the same-- reason being is because I'd already accepted the fact that I was gay. My head was already clear. I wasn't in self-denial and I wasn't going to try to pretend otherwise. The only difference was that now I had a friend who knew so that did help.

I still felt stifled at college. People were always up in my business, wanting me to hook up with girls, asking why I wasn't dating again... same old people, same old thing. I was just terribly bored. 

Matt was a good outlet... before and after I told him.

It wasn't until much later I found out that, after dropping Matt off at that party, he continued to take more shots. He ran into another gay kid that he thought was cute, proceeded to make out with him, made a fool of himself and was stuck puking in the bathroom for hours--he managed to walk back to his dorm by himself where he said he was down on his knees yelling, bawling, sobbing for hours. 

ALL NIGHT.

Apparently, inside... he was not dealing with my coming out as well as he did on the outside. 

My Matt saga was a messy one... you can read that in another blog.