Coming Out

Coming Out

My coming out of the closet was a long process, and since most people fail to realize I’m gay, it ever on going. As an adolescent, I always felt something was different but I could never place what it was. I remember driving around with friends and they would point out some girl they felt was attractive; not only did I fail to notice her to start with, I also failed to connect with the attraction they felt. Later in teen-hood, I finally tried dating, only to find that I was only going though the routine because I felt I needed to.

Later in college, I asked a co-worker out who I found attractive. She agreed and we went on our date. Around the second date, she mentioned how she was actually bi-sexual. I don’t know where it came from, I don’t remember having any set thoughts or telling anyone else before this, but I responded that I always wondered if I was gay. For me, this set off a series of events; now that I made the statement, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was true.

Probably one mistake I made, was finding myself a boyfriend right away. Looking back, I would kind of liked more time for self discovery, but I guess I am making up for it now. That first boyfriend of mine did teach me a lot in the short time we were together though. One of my ‘firsts’ with him was a trip to West Hollywood. We had a chance to visit some pride shops where I bought myself a small discrete pride sticker. We also ran in to a street closure and watched the first AIDS/LifeCycle roll in. After watching all those people finish off 600 miles from San Francisco, it pulled so many of my heart strings that I told myself that one day I was going to do that. (And this last year, I finally did).

So after leaving L.A. I placed the pride sticker on my car, and there it stayed for two whole weeks. One day, sitting in my room at my parents, my older brother (brother #2) comes into my room and hollers, “Are you a &$@% faggot!” I sat there, stared at my computer screen, slowly turned around and calmly said, “Yes, as a mater of fact, I am.” Then I resumed what I was doing. After a few minutes I realized that as calm as I responded, I was too worked up to sit there, so I drove over to the near by University that I was, at the time, planning on attending.

It was a glorious weekend day and perfect for wandering around a campus. My wanding took me the common area, where the remains of sidewalk art were still present. The artwork had a theme of diversity, love, and tolerance, and it was perfect for balancing out my ruddy mood. Fortunately, this was one of those times I had my camera with me. Every so often I run across the photos, and they remind me of that day.


That same day I removed the sticker, and avoided anymore outbursts by it being there. I told my friends outright but I just couldn’t bring myself to do the same for family. The next family member that said something was brother #3, and this wasn’t for another year or so after the first. He was much calmer and simply asked, “are you gay? … oh, okay, thought so.”

It’s funny how you can misjudge people. I thought brother #2 would be the easy going one and #3 would have blown his top, but instead it was the other way around. And then more recently, I took one of my housemates with me to my sister’s (sister #1), to pick up some equipment, and she asked me, “is he a friend or a special friend?” I had no idea she knew, or would have picked up on something like that. Again, I have no sense of people.

Before that though, I broke up with my boyfriend of two years and moved back to my parents. Before I could move in, I felt I needed to be upfront with them. I was tired of the word games, so I finally told them why I was moving back in such a hurry and how I had been openly gay for three years at that point. They took it much better then my fears, and now, while we don’t talk much about it, at least they know.

I don’t push my orientation on people, but if they ask about it or things get too confusing in word games, I have no problems with being open and telling it as it is. My coming out story is not exciting or explosive or glamorous, but it’s mine.