A day that represents something important that most gay people will go through; the process of putting everything on the line for the purpose of acceptance and belonging. A day where we that are out can appreciate everything that we went through on that faithful day we when first uttered the words “I’m gay” to another person. A day where we stand proud, and realize how strong we are for coming out of the closet in the first place, and understanding how it is so difficult for those that have not and even more for those that cannot. Today is a day that we get to celebrate being “out”, and relish what it means to truly be who you are for the first time, and for every time.
I have written my “first” coming out story before, but I thought I would include it here, with some edits, since it has been a few years since I first blogged it. While my story of coming out is focused on the first person that I came out to, it doesn’t truly highlight the journey that coming out has been for me, as it is for most. Being out to one quickly became being out to many, and eventually, I was out to everyone, including my family. Even though I have been far, to this day, there are people that have not come out to officially. There are still people from my past whom I have not had the opportunity to tell, who I hope will accept me for who I am, if and when they discover the fact that I am gay. Many people struggle to come out, and I was no different. I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I could go back and tell my younger self how much better I would feel once I had finally “taken the plunge”. I think that given the opportunity, I would, but I honestly don’t know what good that would do; I came out when it was time for me to do so, and all I can be thankful for today, is that I had the courage to do it in the first place.
Without too much more sappy-ness, here’s my first (of many) coming out experience. In this story, I was almost “forced” to come out to one of my best friends, all thanks to my urge to catch the debut of a little show called Queer as Folk. I hope that it is a story that is both enjoyable, and inspiring, because sometimes, those little curve balls that life throws us are big signs of change; and as with this case, change for the better.
(note: the story is rather long, so I have cut the entry here to keep the mere sight of the entry manageable; I know that some people freak out when they see an extra long entry.)
It was the night that Queer as Folk was to debut on Showtime, a winter’s day back in December of 2000. I was still a lonely boy struggling to find his way out of the closet, all while quickly approaching the final weeks of my undergraduate college experience. I lived with two people at the time: my best friend Margaret (whom I had known for several years, meeting initially my freshman year at Campbell Univeristy), and my friend Dennis (who I met through work, and had become fast friends with over the previous year).
Dennis was a workaholic at that time, and was hardly at home, and Margaret was working at a restaurant, which generally meant that I spent most of my nights hanging out, watching TV, and talking on the internet. It was kind of poetic if you think about it, that the closet in my room was big enough to put my computer desk in, and as such, that is where I spent many nights chatting away on the internet, looking for some guidance and support with my coming out process. Now, I know what you must be thinking, and actually, I was not hooking up on the internet; to be honest, it was way too early for that part of “being gay” for me… I wasn’t looking for sex, I was truly looking for support. Many would later ask why I didn’t come to them, but as many know that go through the process of coming out… sometimes, it just isn’t that easy. Sometimes, it’s easier to talk to a stranger than it is to talk to your best friend.
Through my “adventures” in IM, and regardless of the fact that I was not interested in hooking up, almost everyone I came across managed to eventually shift the conversation in that direction. It was a frustrating time, but at the same time, it was cathartic. I was able to be myself on the internet, and that was at least helping me get more comfortable with the whole gay identity I was struggling with. After weeks of talking on the internet, and turning away potential suitors, I was lucky to find that support in a someone who would end up becoming a really good friend, who was from my home town of Raleigh. What got us talking, is that we were going through the same exact thing at the same exact time, and more importantly, our talks weren’t about sex… they were about supporting each other. Through each of our talks, we got to know each other really well, and began to push each other towards our shared goal of coming out. Even though we had never met in person, we helped each other in a way that no one that was close to us at the time could. Looking back, I am thankful that I had Jason, and that he had me… because we helped each other come out; and without his support, it probably wouldn’t have happened when it did.
Now, back to the night when Queer as Folk was to debut. Luckily, we already had Showtime, which prevented me from having the awkward conversation about adding it to our cable line up to watch the show. I was all set for the debut, and I was excited about it for a couple of weeks in advance.
Even more luck was on my side that particular evening, because Dennis was away, and Margaret was to be working that night until at least 11. Even so, I had planned to set the VCR to record the show in the living room (the only room we had Showtime), so that I could prevent being “caught watching it”. My plan was, that I would “be in bed” by the time Margaret would be home, and the show could just record in the living room, where I could sneak out and get the tape in the middle of the night. My plan was foolproof, you see, because she would surely not be home before 12, and the show would have gone off by then.
Given this fortunate set of circumstances, I knew that I could totally avoid talking about why I needed to watch the show, or even more, why I would need to record it (as I knew I would want to watch it more than once). The plan was set, and I was awaiting the Sunday morning with great anticipation, when a huge curve ball collided with my plan. The Saturday before the show’s debut, it snowed 9 inches before I even woke up that morning. I had never anticipated a freak snow storm to interrupt my plan of having two roommates out of the house, and being able to record the show while they were out, so now, I had to rework the plan. See, Margaret would be at home during the show now since her work was surely closed. That’s a good and bad thing about living in the south; snow shuts down everything, but then again, it shuts down everything. As I realized that day, it doesn’t always work in your favor.
Faced with the real possibility of either a) having to tell her I wanted to watch the show, and having to answer all of the questions as to why, or b) simply missing the show altogether, I realized that I had to come up with an addendum to the plan; because neither of those options were sounding good to me. They say that fate/God/whatever gives you gentle pushes sometimes to get you to do things in life, but this was not a gentle push; it was a shove… down the stairs.
Being trapped in the house all day, my heart was constantly pounding, and my mind was racing with the possibly changes I had to consider in order to reach my goal of watching the show that night. Without saying anything to Margaret about it all day, things only worsened as we got closer and closer to the very real deadline of 10pm. At nine o’clock, with my heart in my throat, I made the decision to just tell Margaret that I needed to record the show “for a friend in my class”. See, she would question me as to why someone would want to see the show, which she did, but it got me off of the hook; it was “my friend” that wanted to see it… not me. After some reluctance on her part, she agreed to let me tape it “for my friend”, and I did a tiny little victory dance in my head, because my plan was going to come to fruition: I was going to get to record the show!
By the time that hour passed, I was a full-on mess. I was trying as hard as possible to seem disinterested in the show, but all I could think about was making sure I hit ‘record’ at precisely the right moment; I didn’t want to miss even a second. To make the hour even longer, Margaret was making little comments in jest about the show, and the show’s potential demographic like, “why is he so gay”, “why does every guy have to be gay”, and “ugh, this is so gay”. I know that she wasn’t saying these things to be mean, because she didn’t know that she was talking about me; and I had no intention of letting her know about the plan.
Finally, it was 10pm. The show began, and the comments escalated, and feeling more and more uncomfortable about the whole scenario, I made the obvious choice one makes when faced with snow on the ground, and uncomfortable conversation… I decided that it was imperative that we get as drunk as possible immediately. As the show plays in the background, and we begin taking shots of whatever alcohol is laying around, we actually began to forget the show, and laugh together and loosen up; paying less and less attention to the show before it finally goes off. Once the show was over, my anxiety was both quelled by the successful ending of my plan, as well as the large amount of alcohol swimming in my bloodstream. Being drunk is an amazing thing sometimes, because you can always convince yourself you need to keep going; even if it is 3 am. It was around that time, that we had been talking, reminiscing, and laughing, and one of us (I don’t think it was me), decided it would be a grand idea to play truth or dare; seeing as how we had nothing better to do, after all.
I consented to playing the game, because in my inebriated state, I was secretly hoping that she might just ask me the very question that I had been avoiding all day; and more importantly, that I would be drunk enough to just answer it. Things headed in a more “truth” than “dare” direction, but quickly, I realized that things were not moving in the direction that I had expected; about that time, it was my turn to answer to a truth or take a dare, and that was when Margaret hit me with a massive jolting question, and not the one I was secretly hoping to hear:
It was almost as if she whispered it, because I remember having to ask her to repeat it.
“Have you ever thought that you and I would hook up?”, she quietly asked.
That wasn’t the question I was waiting to hear; in fact, that question proves that we are not going to be covering the topic that I secretly wanted to address that drunken evening. While I love Margaret dearly, and was flattered that someone as gorgeous as she would think that we would get together, the situation had gotten out of control, and I reacted in a way that neither she, nor I, were expecting to that particular question… I started crying. Upon witnessing my tearful reply, she followed suit. Crying for no reason really makes you brave, for some reason, because in a fit of tears, I confessed that there was something I had to tell her, but couldn’t. Things became more complicated as the minutes of crying wore on, as I am repeating that I have something to say, but can’t, while she is saying that she thinks I didn’t trust or respect our friendship, because I was keeping something from her. She couldn’t have been more wrong, and more right at the same time.
Mulling over whether to cry it out, or give in, something happened… almost in slow motion, it just came out of my mouth, very quietly.
I’m gay.
My confession was followed by deafening silence, a silence that felt like it would last forever. Just as I felt the silence had gone on too long, it was then that Margaret looked me straight in the eye and screamed, “WHAT? Why didn’t you tell me?”, before literally storming out of the room.
After making the biggest confession of my life to someone very close to me, I found myself sitting in the middle of the living room floor, drunk as a skunk, sopping wet with tears, at 4 something in the morning. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe that it had happened, and even worse, what I had feared had come true; she had given me a bad reaction to the news. After a good 15 minutes or so of sitting alone in the middle of the floor, I managed to pull myself up and make it into her bedroom, where we cried a little more together, and talked a through what had just come out. She had questions like, “why didn’t you trust me to tell me sooner?”, and “when did you know?”; and each one she had, I answered honestly. After that conversation, she told me that it didn’t matter to her, and that she supported me 100%. It was great to hear, especially after that day’s anxiety. All in all, she was the MOST supportive person that I could have ever asked for, but needless to say, it was scary there for about 20 minutes.
Coming out to Margaret was a symbolic event. It was difficult, down right traumatizing, but I did it. And after I told her, it wasn’t as hard to tell the next person. Not long after I came out to her, she and I moved away, but have maintained a close relationship to this day. I thank her for being compassionate and understanding towards me, because I truly believe that it shaped my coming out process, and made it a good one. I would later go on to come out to my family with mixed results, but I am glad that I have come out of the closet fully, and live my life as a proud gay man. These experiences have made me realize how fortunate I am to have such support in my life. It has also shown me that I have a lot to be proud of, and to be grateful that I get to be myself.
I am proud that I am able to share this story on this day, a day when we should be proud of doing something that most straight people will never understand; admitting who you really are, at all costs, to someone else. It is hard, it is scary, it can be traumatizing, but it is necessary. It is necessary to be true to yourself, and as a result, live your life as who you really are. In my case, it has been all of these things, and it the journey continues; it just gets easier each time that I have to come out to someone new.
10 comments for “today’s national coming out day…”