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30th Jul 2008, 12:57 PM
Guys and gals and anyone else who'll listen, this is an extract from the book I'm writing, and this bit concerns itself with how I told my friend I was gay. I've decided to post it here and let you have a read. Feedback would be lovely.
...I haven't yet described how fear of coming out feels like. Let my clunkety words give it a go. For added ambience, I suggest you think of the last time you were terrified. It may help. It starts with the hand of a giant. A giant that is clutching and knotting your guts. A giant that has rather inconsiderately been handling liquid nitrogen. From the guts, let’s move up to the stomach. Forget butterflies, they’re for pansies. My stomach feels like I’ve swallowed a block of Styrofoam several sizes too big for it. I’m filled to bursting, but not with anything nourishing. The limbs shake almost imperceptibly, as though to tell you “We’re still here. The stomach might be getting all the flashy, vivid imagery, but we’re here and we’re nervous too.” Now onto the head. The seat of reason. Only currently, reason isn’t sitting. She’s running around screaming in panicked circles, babbling. This is the inkling of how I felt the night I told someone I was gay.
Who to tell, who to tell? I like making lists, so here’s what the list looked like, vaguely:
Parents-Out
Friends-In
Friends I haven’t known to long-Out
Friends I haven’t spoke to in a while- Out
Friends who are likely to have a problem with it- Out
Still, even with all this filtering, I had lots of names. What was I supposed to do to choose? Roll a 20 sided dice? A percentile dice? (As a D&D player and a wargamer I have a -lot – of dice) Was there some coming out etiquette I needed to know about? Then a name comes in a flash of inspiration! Only I don’t trust my inspiration outside the kitchen, so I thought about it again. It was perfect.
When I woke up the next day, I knew what I was going to do. I would decide the order of my coming out (and Lady Macbeth be dammed!) and tell him. This was the last day before the Christmas holidays too, so it was now or never if I wanted to tell him. Lessons weren’t happening as usual, good. My friend was alone, good.
“I have something to tell you...do you want to go outside?” Good so far.
Ice cold winter air, hardly felt above the giant’s icy hands, now merrily back at work.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to tell someone, anyone for a long time now...”
Suddenly, the giant decided to seize hold of my tongue in frozen immobility. I can only hope he washed his hands first. My hear began to race, I couldn’t tell him now. I had to lie! Now, what situation, apart from mine, would need such melodrama? “I’m being abused!” No, that seemed too drastic. “I love your shirt?” Not drastic enough. And I was trying to -assert- my false heterosexuality here! Then my friend, bless him, asked a question: “You’re not gay, are you?” and I seized on that like an alcoholic on his bottle and nodded.
Now I waited for the moment of truth. There was a lifetime packed into those few seconds. And then he offered his hand. And I shook it. Words were spoken, but they were nothing more than the vaguest of impressions through the haze of pure bliss. That’s what it felt like to tell the truth. I knew there was a reason you honest people do as you do.
...I haven't yet described how fear of coming out feels like. Let my clunkety words give it a go. For added ambience, I suggest you think of the last time you were terrified. It may help. It starts with the hand of a giant. A giant that is clutching and knotting your guts. A giant that has rather inconsiderately been handling liquid nitrogen. From the guts, let’s move up to the stomach. Forget butterflies, they’re for pansies. My stomach feels like I’ve swallowed a block of Styrofoam several sizes too big for it. I’m filled to bursting, but not with anything nourishing. The limbs shake almost imperceptibly, as though to tell you “We’re still here. The stomach might be getting all the flashy, vivid imagery, but we’re here and we’re nervous too.” Now onto the head. The seat of reason. Only currently, reason isn’t sitting. She’s running around screaming in panicked circles, babbling. This is the inkling of how I felt the night I told someone I was gay.
Who to tell, who to tell? I like making lists, so here’s what the list looked like, vaguely:
Parents-Out
Friends-In
Friends I haven’t known to long-Out
Friends I haven’t spoke to in a while- Out
Friends who are likely to have a problem with it- Out
Still, even with all this filtering, I had lots of names. What was I supposed to do to choose? Roll a 20 sided dice? A percentile dice? (As a D&D player and a wargamer I have a -lot – of dice) Was there some coming out etiquette I needed to know about? Then a name comes in a flash of inspiration! Only I don’t trust my inspiration outside the kitchen, so I thought about it again. It was perfect.
When I woke up the next day, I knew what I was going to do. I would decide the order of my coming out (and Lady Macbeth be dammed!) and tell him. This was the last day before the Christmas holidays too, so it was now or never if I wanted to tell him. Lessons weren’t happening as usual, good. My friend was alone, good.
“I have something to tell you...do you want to go outside?” Good so far.
Ice cold winter air, hardly felt above the giant’s icy hands, now merrily back at work.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to tell someone, anyone for a long time now...”
Suddenly, the giant decided to seize hold of my tongue in frozen immobility. I can only hope he washed his hands first. My hear began to race, I couldn’t tell him now. I had to lie! Now, what situation, apart from mine, would need such melodrama? “I’m being abused!” No, that seemed too drastic. “I love your shirt?” Not drastic enough. And I was trying to -assert- my false heterosexuality here! Then my friend, bless him, asked a question: “You’re not gay, are you?” and I seized on that like an alcoholic on his bottle and nodded.
Now I waited for the moment of truth. There was a lifetime packed into those few seconds. And then he offered his hand. And I shook it. Words were spoken, but they were nothing more than the vaguest of impressions through the haze of pure bliss. That’s what it felt like to tell the truth. I knew there was a reason you honest people do as you do.