coming out

April 27, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 16 – A Sorta Fairytale

Goodness… Music truly is magic for me. I had completely forgotten that this song (and artist honestly) existed. That is until someone posted one of Tori Amos’ the other day on twitter. My memory whirred to life and every detail of my first boyfriend came rushing from deep within the archives. I was once again back there and filled with so much to write about that, without a second thought, I knew what song to do next.

I have had internet friends since I was 12. I nagged my mother to get the internet until she begrudgingly signed up for AOL. At the time, I wanted to recreate “You’ve Got Mail.” The moment our computer was connected to the world wide web I was in search of people to talk to. In a very roundabout way, one in which I cannot recall how we met, I started exchanging lengthy digital letters with a girl named Mary. (I still have all of them printed and held in a manila folder somewhere.) She lived in Minnesota, older than me by a year or two, and completely obsessed with the Broadway musical Les Miserable. She had broken the rules messaging me and when her parents found out about our exchanges they forbade her from sending any further correspondence. (Anyone can be anyone on the internet.) But like most teenage girls, she found a work around that wouldn’t get her into trouble. Mary commissioned her friend Tessa to type out and send me her handwritten letters in secret. That lasted for about a month when, eventually, those messages ended all together and, instead, Tessa and I became friends. The two of us were close enough that for Christmas one year she sent me a CD with a bunch of her favorite songs. On that disc was this one by Tori Amos.

At first I had no interest in it. It wasn’t really my vibe. I had just turned 17 and was going into my punk rock/emo phase. The tone and lyrics of this did not match how I felt inside. At least, when I first got it. It would however become an obsession later.

I only ever came out to someone by accident. Not so much that, but unexpectedly. I had been invited to an old friend’s, Becky, birthday party at a bowling alley. I went with the intent on telling her that I was “bisexual” because I had this gut feeling that she would accept me. However, because I brought along my friend Jenny as a buffer, I did not end up doing that at first. Instead Jenny and I stayed in our own lane and bowled. I was too scared to talk to Becky and, as the star of the evening, getting her alone was impossible. The party wound down and then Jenny and I both decided to head out too. I left feeling “relieved” I hadn’t said anything. Saying it would have made it real and my deeply held Christian faith wouldn’t have allowed it.

When I had gotten into my parents’ aquamarine station wagon, I turned the key to discover a completely dead battery.

“That sucks,” Jenny laughed and left me to fend for myself.

My parents showed up to help and as we waited for triple-A to come and bring “the bitch mobile” back to life, I went back into the bowling alley. I had to get one more look at the guy I had been salivating over all night.

I thought he was so handsome. Dressed all in black, with dark brown eyes and a brooding expression. His face was pockmarked by bad acne, but his smile was captivating. He was one of the handful of Becky’s friends still bowling, as my friend sat by herself playing with her brand new phone.

“I thought you had left” Becky had said.

I gave her the run down as I stared at her friend. Then from somewhere deep in myself I built up the courage to lean forward and whisper my confession in her ear. For the first time ever I told someone that I was bisexual.

“And your friend Sergio is really cute.”

She laughed and told me that he too was a recent recruit to the “friends of Dorothy.”

“Oh, really?” I had said. “Do you think you could hook a brother up?”

“I think I can do that,” she had replied.

The following day, as my parents drove us down to our family’s early Christmas party, I berated myself for having said anything. I regretted it. I wanted nothing more than to call her up and say, “I don’t know what I was saying. I’m not bisexual.” Even now as I type this I can feel the same churning in my stomach. “If I just hadn’t gone back inside…” I kept telling myself.

Even though I felt that then, when Becky called me to meet up with her and Sergio at the mall I jumped at the chance. I had already made it past the first hurdle, might as well keep going. See where it goes. We walked the length of the enclosed shopping center, Sergio and I hit it off instantly. Well, for me at least. I can’t speak for his experience.

My dad came and picked me up and took me home where I immediately got back in the car and returned to the mall. I joined back up with them and then went and saw the Two Towers. There Sergio and I sat together and held hands. My heart could have burst.

Every chance after that I would get together with Becky and have her call Sergio to come over. I was truly smitten. He was all I thought about, who I wanted to be around. I loved the smell of him. He wore a particular cologne that even to this day if I catch a whiff of it I’m taken back to the day we made-out on Becky’s bed.

The problem with letting yourself love who you want for the first time is you run the risk of feeling too much all at once. For so long I had deprived myself of allowing my true homosexual feelings. So once the cork was popped, all the pressure that had been building behind it exploded. And not in a fun way. I gave too much of myself too quickly.

After we had been kissing, again, on Becky’s bed, I whispered in Sergio’s ear that I loved him. He hesitated for a second and said it back. I was elated. I had never felt so amazing in my entire little life. However… it was after that in which his response to me changed. He became distant and avoided me like a mask mandate. I knew something was amiss but I couldn’t place it. Finally, a few days before the winter formal, he dumped me over the phone. It was my own fault. I forced it out of him. He was told to hold out until after the dance, but I was too much for him. The “gay thing” was too much for him. He wasn’t even sure he was queer. (Turns out… he’s just not gay for me.)

I was absolutely gutted. I had never been dumped before. Prior to this I had dated two other people, girls, and I had been the one to end things. This time… The pain I felt was intense. Like I said, once you allow yourself to feel things, for real, you have to also face the other side as well. And the emotional swings are just as broad.

I obsessed over him and re-ran every moment, especially the night I forced him to break-up with me, for months. I picked apart and analyzed everything trying to figure out what I had done wrong. It only took me a few years to realize that it had just been too much for Sergio. I absolutely came on wildly too strong, too fast. Sergio wasn’t ready. And, honestly, neither was I.

The break-up threw me into a depression, where it was so noticeable that my mother asked me repeatedly what was bothering me. Somewhere around the sixth time she had inquired, I snapped a response.

“My boyfriend dumped me,” I had said.

The look of shock on my mother’s face was intense. The color drained from her cheeks and her eyes bulged from their sockets.

“What are you saying?” She had asked.

My response is lost to the wave of raw emotion. I just remember saying I wasn’t full gay, but “Bi-bi-bi.” (Aka a lie-lie-lie.) My mother scurried from the family room and went to bed, crying.

Overcome with guilt at my mother’s response and fear of my mother knowing I liked men, I shuffled into her dark bedroom and lied, “I was just joking.”

“Why would you do that to your mother,” my father’s methodical voice said out of the darkness.

For the next few months, I moped around trying to cope. I blogged about it whenever I felt the pangs of sadness, but I could hardly get past my emotions. It was such a foreign concept to my young heart. How something could be alive and real in one moment, but gone forever the next, left me befuddled.

The worst part was that since Sergio was a close friend to Becky, he still came around. So, I had to make nice with this son-of-a-bitch whenever I saw him. And my heart would go from one extreme to the next. In one moment I want to grab his pudgy cheeks and kiss him, while in the next I wanted to knock his lights out. The best part was that in this friend group they would play the “slug bug” game but with two additions: out of state license plates and mustangs. Mustangs were included just because the dude who had originated the revised game hated them. And they were fucking everywhere. So, I got to hit him hard and often.

In the wake of the break-up I was set adrift and I rediscovered the song above. It captured me by it’s poetic lyrics and this ending where it leaves you wanting more. It inspired a short story I wrote to it’s tune, with the intent for the reader to listen to the song as they read. I think the term most artists like to use is it was “experimental.” It’s written in broken up scenes, almost like a dream or snapshots. I will include it below for the more curious minds. Just know that it is truly terrible.

I also seem to have written with this weird British accent. Gosh, I’m adorable.

****************************

Him until the End

The news came like a wave and hit each shore of ears all at the same time. It crashed into their ears and flooded their minds with foam. With each collision, a different response was expelled out of the crevasses of their minds through the mouths of the people; and each response varied from the negative, to the neutral, and to the positive, but how anyone could have a positive to such is a surprise; but nevertheless how people took it was the bulk of the story.

*             *             *

Jonathan Abhor awoke to sun and birds every day since he had found happiness; he pulled himself from the mountains of blankets and pillows and dressed with speed, for he couldn’t wait to see the thing that had brought joy into his life. He could hardly contain the happiness that broiled within him; there was so much that he couldn’t help but smile and laugh at the idea of ‘him.’ ‘Him’ was the coming and reason for all, just remember that, for ‘him’ was a benchmark moment within the life of Jon. ‘Him’ was responsible for the change that had occurred in the boy, he was why Jon even dressed differently.

After making some adjustments to his appearance, he rushed to his car, hopped in, and immediately started the engine and backed away from the house. From that point he raced to ‘heavens rest,’ the meeting point of where it all collided.

Anna Kismet’s room was a haven for all who didn’t wish to be seen, who could only do things there and not be judged, and peace and love would be found. Anna was a great reason for all of this, if it hadn’t been for her none of the recent events would have happened, she was perfect to Jon, for she had given the boy ‘him.’

‘Heavens Rest’ was almost silent as some movie played in the background, but none of that mattered for now because right now all that existed was Jon and ‘him.’ Together they laid in each others arms, gazing into the others eyes trying to find who they truly were. Without thinking, lost in the exchange of gazes, Jon leaned forward and kissed the lips of ‘him.’ A feeling of electricity flowed through his lips and continued in a steady stream through each of his limbs, until the two finally broke and together again they looked into the others eyes. Both smiled slightly and then ‘him’ leaned in and again they kissed innocently, but before Jon could realize what was going about he found himself locked into a kiss he didn’t want to end. Beauty existed and grew and before long they broke, and swimming in the scent of ‘him’ he said softly, “I love you.”  Those words hung lightly in the air until a response was tossed up and it was no longer alone, “I love you, too.” They kissed lips softly and wrapped together they lay with the other.

*             *             *

It was evening and the whole of the small town world was moving about, carrying out their lives through the streets and stores, trying to make sense of things that normally were fuzzy. Jon was alike those who lay before him. His world had stopped spinning and the sky had shattered and crashed to the earth, and the shards had cut his skin leaving him behind a bloodied mess standing alone. It was a night before the school dance, and oblivious to what was to happen, he and his friends were all busy getting things prepared. It was all frustrating and consuming, but to make his life complicated even more it was also the night that him decided to rid his life of Jon. ‘Him’ had spilled everything against his will, so on the phone he told his plight to a broken hearted boy, saying that he still wanted to be friends. Though through his strained eyes he looked back at the month they had lived as a pair, and those words “let’s be friends” held no effect to the scarred human being who only wanted to scream “Why? What was all of that? Was it all lies?”  But using every fiber of himself he held back the words and just accepted the ruthless murder of his trust and love.

Anna was there that night, for Jon was at her house, and she watched his face as it reddened with pain and his eyes welled with tears. She had to look away for fear she would soon cry too, and she was meant to be the strong one at this point in time. So, where it all began it ended and that was where so much more happened. Sobbing so hard on her shoulder Jon lost a giant piece of himself, a piece he would never get back because it was too great and large to lift and replace.

*             *             *

“Why did you break up with me,” Jon uttered from his lips against his better judgment.

“Because,” he began, “I never really liked you, and while we were dating I was sort of liking someone else. Plus, I was scared people would find out about us. I mean we couldn’t have kept it a secret forever.”  ‘Him’ had spoken this without any human remorse or sorrow, he spoke it almost maliciously as if to destroy the rest that was left of Jon; and it was there that the last piece of the boy broke away and in the darkness of an abyss he fell hoping to reach the end soon, where he knew he’d hit the ground and die.

*             *             *

The window of Jon’s room lay open, allowing in the sound and sweet scent of the spring rain as the boy penned his life’s tale upon paper. The more he recalled and wrote about the past month the more he hated his existence, and in time his story turned into a letter of good-bye. It was at the moment he finished that he decided to end his duration; he couldn’t take the pain for there was far too much. So, the story now told and able to be heard he leaped with hope to his car and climbed in, taking flight immediately to the school, and there his ending would commence.

*             *             *

“I don’t believe he did it,” said one girl, after the letter Jon had penned had been read by the school. “He was dating a guy! Was he gay?” 

“No. Weren’t you listening? In his letter it said he made a mistake falling in love with a guy, but that it was nothing more,” said the guy she had been speaking with.

*             *             *

…I’m killing myself because I loved him more than I’ll ever be able to comprehend; my life got better with his existence but what’s a life without him? There is just too much hurt for me to carry on without Cameron.

THE END

December 11, 2017

Acceptance and Other Tales

Self-acceptance is something I was mildly blessed with early on. I say it that way because there is still much of myself I dislike or haven’t come around to realizing is just who I am. Yet even with that, I still have come a long way to have confidence. I think that is why I have to remind myself that not everyone has gone through the same or probably ever will.

When I was younger I fought the idea of being gay tooth and nail. I was raised in a deeply religious home, went to Christian school and being gay was never an option open to me. The idea of even telling anyone I had those thoughts was a flat out no. I grappled with my sexuality. I prayed, in tears, that God would take away those feelings. I didn’t want to be a sinner or disowned from my family. I wanted to have the “right” life with a wife and kids. Yet, there was no denying that I was not attracted to girls. The idea of being with them ended when it came to sex. I love women and could have a deeply emotional relationship but that was where it would end. I wouldn’t be in for the deepest part of commitment and whomever I would have been with would deserve better.

I very nearly lived a “straight” life. I had girlfriends, I did the song and dance that came with it and if it hadn’t been for one fateful night I probably would have driven down that hetero-road and dealt with the consequences that came with it.

The first person I ever told I was “bi” was my friend Becky on her birthday, which is only a week away. I had been so entranced with this boy named Sergio at her birthday that I felt compelled to tell her in the hopes maybe he too… As it turned out he was and he ended up being my first boyfriend and first heartbreak. I fell hard and fast for this kid. When he ended it with me, I was devastated. It took months before I was able to move on because I wasn’t ready. I am someone that is so desperate for love that I dive in without even thinking. I envision this life of bliss and when everything turns out to be the opposite I am hard-pressed to understand that the dream I had was only that. It’s probably a sickness.

The first few days after I told Becky I was so furious with myself. “Why did I do that,” I kept thinking. It wasn’t true. I wasn’t gay! But I was still in denial. It wasn’t until I met with that boy, for our first “date,” that something in me turned and I never wanted to go back to pretending. Being with him came easy. Sergio, or “the s” as I called him to hide his gender and identity, was my first kiss. Real kiss. He was my first boyfriend. And my first infatuation.

I thank him for making me who I am. I learned so much from the short experience. For one, don’t get involved with someone young because they (unlike my freak self) haven’t made peace with their sexual preference. After Sergio I only went for older guys because I couldn’t deal with the heartbreak I had felt when he went running. I know now that I came on too strong and he just wasn’t ready. As a result, I learned to shield myself from people. Well, at first. The moment I get a compliment or am shown just the slightest amount of attention all walls come tumbling down. I am just that desperate for love and attention.

I’m almost certain I’ve shared this story on here (or other blogs) countless times. I probably even wrote it in one of my columns for the Renegade Rip. I almost never told Becky my truth. I went to her bowling party and played my role as a straight dude well, and at the end of the night went to leave. However when I got to my car the battery was dead. I called my parents to help me out and while we waited for AAA I went back inside and whispered to her the words I never thought I would say. It’s strange to look at tiny moments as mundane as a dead car battery altering the entire course of one’s life, but it did for me.

My hope is that others can find the same peace I found when I finally just accepted me for me. My natural follow-up is that it is a hard journey, but in all honesty it wasn’t for me. I have lead the most charmed life. The only real moment that was rough was my mother’s acceptance. She was very much not on-board at the start, but since then she is someone else entirely. Sure there is bigotry, but I rather be at peace with myself than fighting a battle I would never win. Denying your truth is a tortured life, full of secrets and lies that only grow as time goes on.

P.S. May I suggest what spurred this blog post, it’s a song by Brandon Stansell “Hometown.”

July 15, 2017

My Gay Royalty Proclamation/Coronation

I have decided to name myself the voice and face of the gay community. Why not? Who’s going to stop me? Sure it’s self appointed, and sure most of my opinions tend to run against what most feel, but I find that the ones that have stepped up to the plate are shameful and stupid.

I sat down the other day to see if I could in fact think of gay icons that represent or are the final voice for my homo homies. The ones I could think of were infamous characters who should be banned from ever stepping foot in public again. I speak of course about Perez hellno and Milo yaya-BGB. They made themselves famous by saying off-color remarks and having hard opinions on things, which, to their credit, is what someone claiming to be a voice for their people should have. None of this wishy-washy bull-shit. We need leaders. I can be that voice.

To offer some credentials I have dabbled in most scenes or are VERY aware of them, however I live a very sedate life with my husband, longing for an expanded family through invitro or adoption. (The jury is still out on which route we intend to go.) While I have hard opinions on most things I have a thing that those other gents lacked… what was that word again… Oh yeah, apathy. However, I am by no means a pushover. Sometimes the gays can be so immersed in their own bull shit that they can’t see the pile of shit for the turds. It’s a horrible an unfortunate analogy but I was going for a cohesive image.

Then, my gleaming credit is that for two semesters I wrote a column for my college paper called “The Gay Agenda.” It dealt with a bevy of topics, all of which were discussed within the limited character length. My first column, discussing my coming out twice to my parents, won me third place from the California College Media Awards. Sure, I had to pay $65 for a ticket into the banquet to physically receive the award, but that doesn’t lessen the fact that I did in fact win. (First and second were both columns about Colin Kapaernik, so… That’s way more important than the baring of my soul to an audience primarily comprised of conservative individuals that own guns. So thanks for that.)

One of the gay icons I love is Jonny McGovern, and he has a song called “Gay Questions” where he croons “I got gay questions, and I need gay answers.” Well, Mr. McGovern, while you have the questions I may certainly not have the answers, but I will try my darndest to find them. And I don’t know how the two fisting bottom doesn’t get trunk but. Kegel exercises on the reg? Or Maybe they just made a deal with the devil.

So for my first and foremost “final answer” to end all commentary and questions, I will discuss the comments made by Andrew Garfield.

If you are not in the know he said he considered himself a gay man, just without the whole nasty business of taking it or giving it up the butt. He was a little more eloquent in the way he conveyed it, but I am trying to reach my readers through humor.

How I see it is the man had nothing but love in his heart when he said it. Sure it’s weird, but at the core of what he was trying to say is that he sees through our eyes in such a way that he can identify. Sure he won’t face the same kind of discrimination most of us will encounter (luckily I have found next to none, praise Albus) yet he will be the first to step up and defend us. At least I would hope. What we need are allies. We can’t do this alone and getting angry with him over something he said, when his intent was kindness, is just petty. It appears that at times the community allows ourselves to be consumed by our own victimhood and we let it run our lives.

The truth is Andrew Garfield will never understand what it truly means to be a gay man. Ever. Unless he’s a fucking gay man. If he is… bitch… Quit  being a pussy about it and come out. The more people are honest with themselves and those around them, then will change occur. The Gay rights movement has made leaps and bounds in such a short amount of time. I say that with certainty because we seem to be more accepted by people than most people of color. We are still fighting that shit today.

So, kids, when someone says something that seems off-color, stop and THINK! Ask yourself, what are they trying to say? Are they a friend/advocate? Is their message coming from a place of love? People make mistakes in an effort to show their a friend. Don’t overreact with some bullshit about using the wrong pronoun or assuming someone’s gender. (Fuck, that stuff irritates me.)

So sayeth the spokesman for the gay community, J.R.

 

December 22, 2014

A Gay ‘ol Anniversary

It’s strange to think that I’ve been out of the closet for the past 12 years.  It’s really not that long, but looking at how much I struggled with my sexuality prior to my admission it is astounding that I ever came out at all.  I guess all it took was a pretty face.

In retrospect the face I thought was “handsome” was in fact not at all.  Looking at the pictures now I have NO IDEA what I was thinking at the time.  The dude is hideous.  But in that moment I was smitten and only two days after telling my friend, at her bowling birthday party, that I liked guys and her friend, I went on my first date.

The friend I had made my admission to was someone I had at once had a “crush on.”  She was a buxom 12 year old with a mouth like a sailor.  We could make each other laugh.  I think we went on one “date” that comprised of us walking the length of the mall.  Our relationship was a flash in the pan.  After that we never spoke again until her 17th birthday when I told her a part of myself no one in the world (and in reality myself) knew. It’s a strange bit of kismet when I think back on it now.

I had originally left my friend Becky’s birthday without saying a word.  I had no intention of telling anyone, in fact.  But when I went out to my car the battery was cold dead.  I don’t know if it just bit the dust cause it had run it’s last or because I left the lights on.  Either way, while waiting for AAA to give me a jump or a tow, I went back inside and told her.

The thought has crossed my mind so many times before, what if I had gone out to my car and it had worked.  Where would I be?  Would I have driven home and never-ever-ever made that admission to anyone? Would I have married some poor girl and forced myself into a life I didn’t want at all?  Or would I have told someone some day… At this point it’s all speculation.

Like I said, I don’t’ even know how I admitted it to her.  Seriously.  I was still struggling with myself.  Even the day after I had I mentally berated myself for saying anything.  How could I!?  I’m not gay!

Whatever caused that spur of courage I am grateful for it every day.  My life has turned out wonderfully because of it.  Even though it ultimately resulted in a ton of heartbreak, I eventually met the man I’ve spent the last 11 years with and I wouldn’t have changed a thing.