My coming out story is somewhat a foggy memory that I have had to think about for the last few days. I tried not to think about it too much as to just let the memories come to me.
It was a process to say the least. It was no magical wave of the wand or flick of the wrist. I was a very conflicted boy, I grew up loving hockey, playing in the woods, riding my bike with the other kids in the neighbourhood, making forts, getting into fights, playing soccer and not really afraid of being me…I thought I liked girls, I chased girls, probably even to the point of annoyance for some. I was raised Catholic, I went to Catholic *public schools, I even had my own expectations that someday I would marry, have kids.
For a couple years( I was between 14-16) I had already been self aware of myself looking at men. I remember being at the local pool and staring at men in the changing room or in the showers or as I did laps or jumping off the diving boards. I was somewhat a loner when I went to the pool, rarely went with friends. Unsure why, maybe it was so I could be alone and be free to look at men without question or suspicion.
My attraction to men grew into an impulsive allure to the male form. I recall specifically wanting to change near men, be around the adult only changing rooms or in the showers when it was busy. I grew accustomed to know when it was busy. What times I wanted to be there to gain the most experience at looking. I would do what most boys would do. Undress/Dress slowly. Trying to position myself in a manner so I would always have a good view.
Over the course of a few years I would grow to fantasize about men in their underwear and swimsuits. I stole my first pair of mens underwear * the first of many I may add! , from a locker at the local pool. I was brazen to say the least. I would stalk a man for a week, know his routine…When he would be out swimming or working out and I wold head back into the locker room and steal his underwear. Sometimes I would jack off with them and put them back in the mans locker. I even remember leaving a small note in a locker for a hot lean diver. (it said something along the lines of, you have a nice…if you ever want a …..)
My life consisted of the simple pleasures. As I was allowed to go uptown to go swimming alone I was also free to explore the city on my own. I discovered a local used book store who sold adult magazines as well.
I would buy used magazines as an underage teenager. I bought a lot. Well not in the beginning. At first one magazine would last me months of pleasure before I outgrew it and used all of its resources for stimulation.
I would eventually buy a few at a time. I would read them as much as could. So the big question is, “how did I hide them?” I thought I was resourceful. I hide them behind my drawer in the top bunk of my bed, behind the support beam. Thinking I was being clever.
I would also hide them in my canvass backpack, which was popular in the 90’s. But I made a fatal mistake. I put a combination lock on my backpack to keep out snooping eyes. That did not work!
My mother confronted me! I was downstairs in the basement, curled up on the couch. I am a bit foggy of her approach but I remember her asking me if I was gay. I said no. She pressed on with her integrating ways, asking in so many ways I was lost on what was the purpose of her talk. She asked why I was reading porn magazines with men in them. I recall her saying at one point, “it is ok if your gay” followed by other conflicting statements. I said for the stories, or maybe I replied, I don’t know. She had so many questions for me. Her once friendly approach was now gone and now vulgar and mean. She said for me to throw them away. I remember I had mentioned something along the lines of,” girls don’t like me, they never want to date me as a boyfriend, only friends” I was very emotional. I was unprepared for this. I did not want to be outed, I did not consider myself gay. I was even unsure what gay was. I liked and wanted to date girls yet I knew I jerked off thinking of guys, a lot!
So I packed up the magazines and took them up the street to throw them away. I sort of through them away. I went up the street and threw them into the bushes off a cliff of a hill. Not so discrete but what did I know then. It was a cold Autumn day. I thought the leaves would soon cover them and they would be gone. It wasn’t too soon later that I went back up to that spot and recovered my fave ones.
I had them for as long as the guilt would allow. I actually went back to that area and took the best magazine that was in the best shape, not wet and covered in debris. I also remember before throwing out the magazines I had ripped out my fave pages. I folded them up and hide them.
Fast Forward 2years.
I am in grade 12. I have by now had a few school boy crushes. But I knew that I had a secret I had to keep. I was starting to bubble over. I was jacking off everyday thinking of guys from the gym, reading porn, fantasizing about guys from school. Getting a glimpse of crotch from tv shows. I was such a pervy kid I remember “Evan Solomon” from CBC News in khakis and had a bulge that would push me over the edge. Even late night CBC french movies, they were a little more liberal in their skin flicks and eroticism.
I made some radical moves when I as in grade 12. I no longer wanted to be apart of the social groups in school such as choir, musical, theatre, etc. I joined swim team, curling and tried out for volleyball. I also applied and got accepted to a cross country exchange program the government was promoting for the 125years of our countries birth.
I felt worldly and grown up.
*this is where I really start to come out….Funny enough, My Mother drove me to my boyfriend to be…..
I signed up to buy a grade 12 senior high school swim hoodie. I felt it was representing me as someone else, someone new, a new me. When time came for me to buy it…..I had no money. I remember my mother gave me money for something else, meals, travel money etc but I bought my swim sweater with it. I came home after school wearing it and she lost it.
The definition of bi polar was my mother at times. I was so caught by surprise with the anger and rage she showed me when I walked in the door. She knew I had no money for the sweater and she grilled me. I had enough. I knew I was growing up and I was just 18. An adult under Canadian law and my way out of this crazy household was soon upon me. I Stormed off.
I went for a long walk. It was a nice and bright school night. It was warm. I remember walking all over my part of the city, from the suburbs to the railways by the coastline. I walked the rails all the way to our local mall in our part of town. I made my way from the rails to the parking lot and through the doors.
As I walked in I knew I was going to the local pet store. I loved animals and had a recent fascination with fish. I would spend an hour at the pet shops looking at all the fish. Just staring at amazement.
A guy approached me to talk to me. He was tall, slim, actually very slim, good looking enough with a shy/sly ness to his demeanour. He made small talk with me, asking me questions about my fish hobby. I am unable to recall if I already owned a fish tank or I was in the process of getting one. Now that I think of it I am sure I had a 10gallon tank with a few fish here and there.
The petshop guy continued to talk to me. I remember that I had spent long enough looking at the fish so I made my way down to the bird and small animal area and watched the critters for awhile. The pet shop guy approached me again. We made small talk. I am unsure of what was exactly said but he seemed nice.
As I was about to leave the store I made one more stop at the fish tanks which were kept up front of the store by the cash desk. He said if I would like I can call him and we could hang out if I wanted. I took the gesture as friendly and didn’t think too much about it other than I was making a friend, which I lacked.
I recall this because it was the day after my fathers birthday. It was November 12, 1992 and……
I called him a few days later at his work. We spoke and made arrangements to meet. He picked me up on a Thursday night after my shift at a mens clothing store. My first retail job in a dream job for a 18year old guy. I was making money, working in an uptown mens store and felt popular. He picked me up and we went for a drive to a local McDonald’s. We ate there and he asked if I wanted to go back to his place to listen to some music.
I remember feeling tense and nervous. I felt a kinship, a similarity. Unsure what it meant I just went with the flow.
We went to the other side of the city where he lived. He lived on his own, on the top floor in a bachelor apartment. I thought it was the coolest place ever. He said I could make myself comfortable as he went to the washroom. I noticed under his glass coffee table there was a few mens magazines. I glanced at them briefly and cautiously so I would not be caught. I saw men in the skimpiest underwear in my life. I was amazed. The Pet Shop Guy came out of the bathroom and sat down on the floor in-front of his sound system and I joined him. We listened to a little bit of music.
**The intensity of my desire to impress was very evident in this simple example, He asks,” do you like Lindsey Buckingham?” I replied,” Yes I like her.” He smiled and giggled and said,” She is a he.” I was so embarrassed as I knew I had no idea what he was talking about but I just wanted him to like me.
It was near my curfew so I had to ask him to take me home. Nothing magical or sexual happened. It was just glances and small talk but felt cool that I made a friend.
I called him again and we spoke. We said we would hang out on the 22nd, a Sunday. He picked me up around the corner of my house as to not draw suspicion and we went to his house. We hung out and watched a movie. I think we even attempted to watch 2 movies. **After writing this and doing a quick edit I realized what the second movie was. I saw the title of “Lost Language of the Cranes” was written on a VHS tape. I knew exactly what movie it was. It was on PBS a month prior but I missed watching it for some reason. I desperately wanted to watch it. I slyly asked him if we could watch it. He asked me if I knew what it was, I said yes. He said ok. We very quietly sat there and watched it. We ate. We made small talk. Then we sat on the couch and we talked. I remember even though it was a bit foggy that I revealed I was into guys. I think I directly asked him if he was gay. He asked me if I was. He said he was too. I think actually I had to cough up the nerve to ask him cause I was putting the pieces together. The magazine….The looks… The movie….He asked me…
He asked me If I wanted to do something about it. I said sure. He said to lay down on the futon and he would be right back, again he went to the washroom. I remember making out with him a lot. Rubbing our bodies, manhandling each other until clothes came off. I remember he did the right thing and asked me to put a condom on him. Which for me back then was fine for oral. *my older self now laughs at the notion. I recall a lot of oral, 69 and body rubbing. The actual moment of ejactulation is a bit of a foggy moment but I clearly remember the sensation of ” I did it” I was in shock. I was in disbelief.
We washed up and he was a gentleman. We got dressed and he drove me home.
I was so distraught of what was happening I called a toll free “kids help phone” number. I was 18 yet I had nowhere to turn. The man on the other line of the phone was a bit hasty and said the phone number was for kids in need. I was just freaking out. He said my feelings were normal and if I could speak to a teacher, or an adult about it.
SO November 22nd, 1992 was the day I officially accepted my identity as a gay man and disclosed this to another human being. AND LOST MY VIRGINITY…
The road to disclose this to others was a long road, one which would take almost a year to finish.
During my whole grade 12 year of high school I was very secretive. I was always making up lies to cover up my whereabouts. In the beginning I was only seeing the PetShopGuy about once a week. Usually on Sundays when I could lie and say I had band practice, swim practice, or any other school activity.
We would spend our Sundays watching movies we rented from Blockbuster and having a meal together, having sex and he would drive me home.
This went on for 7 months. As the nicer months moved on I had slowly come out to my childhood best friend*she said “ok so you want to play cards”, throughout the card game she was making small comments of acceptance and I already knew her uncle was gay. She told me a story of one time he was down to visit and they were all watching me from the third story kitchen window watching me in the backyard and he said ” I was as queer as a three dollar bill” Guess it takes an old queen to see the youth grow into their own to make such a comment. I too feel the same way when I see young queer youth. My school best friend(she did not take it very well and we slowly lost touch, she was distant and…) and that was it. I was rarely seen with any school friends. I was spending most of my time hanging out with my new beau. I do recall saying to a few people who would ask me or question me about certain inconsistencies. I had to make up an older girlfriend, “rachel” was my high school girlfriends name.
He was older, did I mention that. He was 25 and I was 18. 7 years between us!!! It did not seem that long for me.
As school was coming to a close I was very much involved with my beau. I was headstrong and determined to make this relationship work.
As I was about to graduate I knew I would be free. I would be able to do as I wish, see who I wish…..
Graduation came and gone. * I will write a blog about my gay prom for 4.
A big decision was upon me. How do I tell my parents I want to go to another province with a guy to go to his brothers wedding? I was terrified. I was reluctant. I was so scared I would be questioned on who this friend was and how he fit into my life if I had never mentioned him before.
I had a brilliant and immature answer! I decided since my mother mostly was giving me a lot of grief that I would move out. It was spontaneous and quick. I had no belongings really. My mother already mentioned plenty of times I owned nothing as they had paid for everything. So I would pack up my clothes, my music and simple mementos and move out while my parents were out getting groceries. I had called upon my “cousin” to move me out when they had left. I was mid move when my parents came home. I was downstairs packing some grocery store bags of clothes. I had left a letter to my mother up stairs. She must have read it as I heard you storm through the house to the top of the basement stairs and bellow down. She was livid mad. Screaming questions at me. Who, where, etc…taking it as a personal assault on her parenting. I remember the letter saying along the lines of…” protect me form the future hate and hardships that would come my way” etc…I had wings to spread and I needed their support. I never saw that letter again. It would be great if my mother had kept it so I could revisit my 18year old self.
She said” what do you think you’re gay or something”
I said, “yes”….She was still livid and raging on me. She said I was not gay. She said I had no idea who I was. She said I was confused and I am not gay and that I was being abused by this older guy. She said I had no idea who he was….She continued with comments of the sort. I remember clearly she told me just not 2 years ago that she said it would be ok if I was. I reminded her of her own words and she denied it saying I was never gay. She then threatened me with “you wait until your father hears about this” She then went on to say I only think I am gay because something had happened to me when I was younger.
I had a younger brother and a younger sister. I pleaded for her not to tell them. I wanted to be the one. I however was granted that wish and my mother poisoned their minds with her own version of the story which for years to come would form their fragile minds of what gay was and choices and mental illness…..
I continued my move and my dad came to the basement door and said,” you and your mother having it out are you?” I said yes….He had a sympathetic ear and tone to his voice. With all the rage it was comforting.
*as a side note. I always thought my coming out would be the opposite of how it went down. I thought my dad would freak out and my mom would be the nice one.
I left my home. I moved in with my boyfriend and my cousin.(weird scenario but they knew each other).
That was July 9th, 2013. My coming out.
I was told that I must be home in the fall if I wanted to go to University. They were using it as leverage on me to get away from my boyfriend.
Skip ahead 10 days or so. I came home from my boyfriends brothers wedding. I listened to a voicemail that my mother left. She said that I must come home on Tuesday and speak to my father.
I went home, started to walk up the back stairs and my mother confronted me and bullied me and nearly pushed me down a steep stairs. I pushed back and I abruptly and sternly stood up for myself and said, “don’t you ever ever touch me again”. I went down the stairs with a tumble and then walked down the rest. I went into the backyard to meet my father.
We sat on the picnic table top and he said and I am paraphrasing,” so your mother says your gay?” I reply yes. He then asked ,” how do you know?” I replied back,” I just do…” He asked me if I had ever been with a woman. I replied I hadn’t. He said I should try it.” with a skinny woman, an ugly woman, a fat woman, a chinese woman” I giggled a little bit. I replied. ” Have you ever been with a guy?” He said no….So it was sort of left at that. I started to cry. I said all I wanted to know is that he loved me….He said,” you’r my boy, you’re my first born, I will always love you” He gave me a side hug. He said mom isn’t handling it that well and asked if I was ok. I am a bit foggy on these two parts….I think I may have said at this point or maybe it was in a later year…but i strongly think I said something like,” you should divorce her and date this “rich” lady I knew…and I also said something like, do you like my boyfriend?” He replied,” No I did not picture you to be with a guy like (insert name) so I asked who then? He replied with a simple, “I dunno, maybe like a football type of guy my age”
Read into that all you want. I think it is very funny. My boyfriend was the farthest thing from that sort of guy. BUT hey, damn, who wouldn’t want to date a football player!
I lived my summer…..I moved back home…..
Life went on…. I will fill in the blanks later…
serodiscordantcanuck 