Coming Out

When I was nine years old my neighbor Mary, also nine, tried to kiss me under the stairs where we were playing House. I looked away, told her that we might get in trouble and resumed making the faux dinner out of my dad’s old shoe, which I called a steak. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to – trust me, I did – but at that age red flags went up. Danger, Danger! But it wasn’t too long after that I tried to dry hump my friend Susannah while we played House in my bedroom (I was the Dad and Suzannah was the Mom). Yes, I liked playing house at that age; it was a good excuse to explore adulthood without feeling silly or having the consequences that come from being a stupid teenager. Those stories are for another blog post! Anyway, my attempt at riding Susannah failed miserably when she pushed me off and decided the game was over. It was about this time that I realized I liked girls. I was boy crazy…but all of a sudden I was girl crazy, too! I started to allow myself these new feelings and embrace what it would be like to be with a girl. I would steal my dad’s single copy of Playboy that he stashed in a brown paper bag in the closet (I always put it back and crumpled it up exactly how I found it), which got me highly aroused. I was a horny kid, and I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t act on these feelings until I was much older.

I had a long term boyfriend throughout most of high school and then started dating a new guy when I was seventeen, end of my senior year. It was with this second major relationship that I would, for the first time, truly explore my gayness. My ex-boyfriend, we’ll call “Dude,” worked at a large gay nightclub as a bar back. It was at this club, one of the most popular in Miami at the time, where I met my first girlfriend. Well, she wasn’t officially my girlfriend, but she was a friend that I had sex with on several occasions. Funny how guys don’t mind when their girlfriends hook up with other girls. Lucky for me that was the case or I’m not sure how long it would have taken me to get with the program. I remember going to the club to meet Dude one night and feeling like a kid in a candy store when I walked through its doors – it was filled with gay boys in thongs on rollerblades carrying pink, potent concoctions in small vials – these cost almost eight bucks and got you totally fucked up – and beautiful, hot girls dancing on the tables. All of a sudden, all those feelings I had had earlier on as kid came rushing back. But now I was allowed to do something about it and a large army couldn’t stop me.

A couple drinks is all it took for me to approach a stunning green-eyed, brunette, who I later learned was from England, named Angela. We talked while I hung on her every accented word. We danced, we kissed, we went back to her apartment on South Beach and had sex on her futon until her gay husband, who she married so she could live in the country, walked in on us bare-butt in the living room. We reenacted this evening several times until it manifested itself into a threesome-gone-terribly-wrong with Dude and I decided I liked Angela without Dude’s company. Although it took me some time and many years later to fully come out, I would have sexual escapades with several women before I finally accepted my fate and told my parents that I was a lesbian. I look back on my relationships and wish that I hadn’t wasted so much time with men, but I don’t regret my past. However, I’ve never been as happy as I am now and completely relish my super gayness with my super fiancĂ© ! The End.


Lesberita said...

I love your articles!!! Oh, and it definitely sucks to be "dude" - I pity the fool!

dubbs said...

The next thing I want to know is the actual "coming out to my parents" story.

Mine involves a holiday, a sick relative, and a whole lotta beer from other countries.