When I Came Out

When I came out to my high school friend I was drunk and tried to make out with him. He asked, “Are you gay?” I said yes, and he was totally fine with it and gave me a hug…but he still wouldn’t let me make out with him.

When I came out to my mom, it was on my 19th birthday in my dorm room. She and my sister and her toddler son surprised me, saw some gay content around the room, and so it began. Not to be upstaged, my sister then confessed she’d had a threesome with a girl, and my mom contemplated her own possible same-sex desires, while my two-year old nephew tottered around our feet. All in all, it went really well. Except that I had to do it all over again six months later: mom was so high she hadn’t realized that I was telling her I was gay.

When I came out to my fraternity brothers they said, “We know,” and gave me a beer and a hug.

When I came out to my mom at 15, she said I was obviously molested as a boy, and that I’d die of AIDS. She sent me to a Christian therapist. We didn’t speak for years. Fast forward 14 years, my mom is one of my biggest supporters, and my partner and I spent Christmas this year with our entire family. Give people time; love conquers all.

When I came out in 1998, my mom cried from fear. When I got married to my partner in 2008, she cried again, but this time, from happiness.

When I came out to my mom she said that she had known since I was five years old and had asked her to teach me how to crochet. We got along great after that. She told me that I was like the daughter she never had. My sisters did not appreciate this.

When I came out, I was suddenly lifted out of a long depression. For weeks after, I was sure people could tell I was gay just by looking at me. And I didn’t care.

When I came out to my friend, with whom I’d gone to a parochial high school, she said, “Don’t do what every Catholic gay boy does and become a priest!”

When I came out to my best friend in 1987, his first words were, “Well, I’m not gay.” Four years later he came out to me.

When I came out to my former college roommate at 25, he asked, “Why did you have a picture of Tyra Banks on the wall then?” “Camouflage.” My sister said, “I thought you were just a loser with women, but now it makes sense.” Mom knew when I was a boy and both parents discussed it behind closed doors for years!