Better late than never, I guess....

It's a long one folks. You've been warned.

Yesterday was National Coming Out Day.

Yeah, I missed it, but, then again, I think it's hypocritical to observe a "National" holiday touted by a so-called "gay-rights" group that is run by a straight man. That's the reason why I walked right past the HRC tent at Market Days, only stopping when I was asked if I wanted a sticker from HRC.
I simply gave the poor woman an indignant "No" and kept walking. The dumb broad probably just blew me off, without giving a thought as to why I didn't want one.
Said the same thing to the Stonewall Democrats people, and, had to consciously stop myself from wanting to grab the nearest garbage can and dumping it on the stupid monkeys I call the Log Cabin Republicans.

But, to honor that day, although I am a day late, I will share my coming out story with all of you who read this.

I will start by answering the question that I seem to get from everybody........

"When did you know?"

That's a question that I have to look back on my life to answer. If you asked my this question when I first came out, I would not have been able to answer it, except with the typical, plain, unexceptionally "I've always known".

That's not quite the case.

I remember being in kindergarten class one day, stopping my play with my friends, and running up to the back wall facing the door to the classroom and thinking to myself "There's something different about me."

The thought passed and I went on to play with my classmates.

The next time that thought hit me, it was when I first heard the word "gay".

It was junior year in high school, and, I was sitting in the regular English class when one of my classmates outed himself. You could have heard a pin drop, but, just for a second. Then came the rush of questions..."how do you know?...when did you know?.....do you have a boyfriend now?..." and so on.

The rest of that year was uneventful (unlike my sophomore year), and, then senior year came, with it's rush of college apps, ACT and SAT scores, AP classes (I was in four) and senior prom, luncheon and graduation.

The senior prom was the BIG event.

At this point, my parents were newly divorced, and, my mom had her job for about a year. Between the two of us, we split the cost of my prom dress, and my mom bought me shoes and matching purse. I even had my hair done and had makeup and a manicure. I was very, very femme back then. I went back to the place several days later to buy a garter.

I don't remember who I gave the garter to, but, it's the only piece of my ensemble that I don't have today. And no, I can't fit into my dress; I was 140 (size 8) in my senior year, and, 15 years later, I'm at 153 (size 12). It's obvious where all my weight went, and, I ain't fitting in that dress ever again.

Anyway, the night of senior prom, I met up with a friend to mooch a ride in the limo his mom got for him, along with several other friends.

We ended up at some hotel downtown, and, as expected, the dinner was horribly bland, at best. We kept spiking our drinks with some Schnapps that someone snuck in, and, after an hour of bad music and the garter removal, we left.

Before I forget, I must mention that said guy that outed himself the previous year, brought a very hot date that turned out to be a drag queen.

But, I digress.........

Turns out that was the first time I had heard the word "gay". I didn't put any meaning to it, since it applied to someone else. But towards my senior year, it began to echo around in my head.

The echo began to disappear when college came around, and, I jumped from high school right into my college career, despite my parent's insistence that I take a semester or a year off. I should have listened, because I got dropped in my fifth semester. I am in over my head, and, it didn't help that I was coming to terms with repressed emotions and feelings about my childhood molestation.

Too boot, I piled on my conflict with my being gay on top of all that, and, it snapped me in half. I couldn't do it anymore. I chose to let school go. Everything else I had to deal with before I could anything else with my life.

I was up in my bedroom (this was back when my parents still owned property in Chicago) and when I took a deep breath and decided to tell my mom about my molestation.

I went downstairs to living room (we had a duplex apartment) and asked her to sit down because I wanted to talk to her. She almost immediately began grilling me about how much college cost and how disappointed she and my father were about my getting dropped. I told her I understood and I apologized. I asked her how much longer I would have to apologize before she'd stop grilling me about what happened. Unfortunately, both of my parents thought I was completely ignorant about money. They often referred to me being spoiled. But that's another post.

I started to tell her about what happened to me; she even remembered the incident I described to her. I was in tears by the time I was finished.

Then silence.

She said to me "That's it" with a condescending retort.

I became hysterical. "What do you mean that's it?"

"I was molested by my mother's boyfriends, and I'm just fine!"

No, she is not fine, I thought.

She looked at me with a look that fell between anger and disappointment. "Is there anything else?"

I looked at her and said "No." I had no intention of even attempting to discuss my new discovery of being gay.

But she saw that I was wounded and vulnerable, and she went in for the kill.

"Are you gay?" she asked.

In tears, I responded. "I'm not going to lie to you. I think I am."

I don't remember her response after that, I just remember becoming more hysterical as she said that I wasn't going anywhere and I wasn't doing anything ever without her permission, or else she was going to tell my dad that I was gay, and that he was going to throw me out of the house and into the street.

I was shocked. My stomach hit the floor and my heart was shattered. All of this by my own mother.

I said to her "Oh my God. I can't believe that you're doing this to me. You're my mother! How could you do this to me?"

I guess it was at this point that she realized what she was doing and tried to hug me. I pushed her away and ran upstairs to my room. I locked myself in for the rest of the night and barely spoke to her for days.

It was at that point that I made the unconscious decision to never trust anyone with my thoughts or feelings again. If I couldn't trust my own mother, and, through her words, my own father, who could I trust?

It's taken me years to overcome this deep seeded mistrust of everyone. Even now, most of the feelings that come out are negative and critical, far from being deeply personal. I'm not a cold person, I was just forced to be.

Even now, I withhold information about my friends and my volunteer work from my mom; it's become natural to do that. Second nature.

It's sad that I have to do such a thing. Even to this day, I have an inherent distrust of my mother.

So, that's my coming out story. I never said it was going to be a happy one.

Are you nervous? I am....

This year, GLN is changing the format of the Shepard march a bit, and, now I'm giving the opening speech. It's 3 in the morning, and, I still haven't finished what I'm going to say. I am very nervous, nervous as all hell. It also looks like I'll be stuck with the fundraising pitch too.

Where's a bottle of wine when I need it.

MyLanta

It should be a crime to let me post as drunk as I am.
WooHoo!

Not that I have anything to say.

Other than at times like this, I am very lonely. Lonely, not desperate, mind you.

It should be against the law to ingest an entire bottle of wine.

Seriously.