It all started with Batman & Robin.

This is my coming out story. It’s long and probably intimidating to look at, but I’m hoping it will help someone. I know it’s helping me just to post it. Here we go.

I first knew I was gay at the age of seven.

It was 1997, and Batman & Robin was one of the biggest films of the year. You could hardly go anywhere without seeing advertisements for the movie, whether it be Eggo commercials, kids meals at fast food restaurants, or, in the place that would ultimately matter most, the warehouse of a commissary.

That summer, while shopping for groceries with my mother, I saw a cardboard cutout of Batman & Robin’s official movie poster, and while holding a wistful gaze on Chris O’Donnell’s hard-staring face, I casually said, “He’s cute.”

It’s been nearly thirteen years since those words were spoken, and I remember the awkward silence that followed them like it was yesterday. I don’t remember my mother’s response, partly because the ignorant kid in me wasn’t expecting one, but I do remember the look on my mother’s face — the bulging, racing eyes looking to see if any eavesdropping bystanders had overheard — and that sealed the deal for me. What I said was not okay, and I could not say or think things like that ever again.

Looking back, I think my mother was just trying to protect me from a world I wasn’t ready to fight.

In 2001, my family was living in Alabama, and I was just leaving elementary school and getting ready for junior high. I was friends with a neighborhood kid named Ryan and his older brother, Brandon. They didn’t get along, mostly because Ryan was overdramatic about everything and Brandon was an asshole who liked to torment him. However, as much as they hated each other, they both agreed on one thing: girls. And for all the time I knew them, that’s all they ever wanted to talk about.

One day, I went over to their house to watch some TV. Their mother was gone for the day, and Brandon seemed more excited about my coming over than usual. He quickly approached me and said, “Come into my room! I have to show you something!” Ryan quickly joined him in his excitement and said, “Oh yeah! You’re gonna love this!” They led me to Brandon’s room, shut the door, closed the curtains, and turned on the TV.

Brandon had borrowed some porn from one of his friends in high school.

It was straight porn, of course, but nonetheless my first experience with the human body, male or female. It was the first time I saw a naked man and a naked woman that wasn’t an illustration in a science book, and as far as I’m concerned, it was the first hard-on I ever got in my life. In fact, when the tape was over and we were all going back into the living room, I could hardly walk straight. My erection felt like an unnecessary weight tied to my pelvis. Ryan and I sat on the couch while Brandon grabbed some sodas from the fridge, and all the while I overheard them talking about “how hot that chick was” and “how big her tits were,” all I could remember saying about the woman in return was, “I don’t get why she was still wearing high heels.” Because in the back of my mind, all I could see was the guy.

It wasn’t long after I started masturbating. I felt guilty and ashamed every time. I pictured getting caught and made fun of. What should have been an exciting time of self-discovery was nothing more than a period of confusion, denial, and loneliness. I tried to fill that void with a relationship and ended up dating a girl from another middle school in my town, but after sharing our first kiss, I still felt empty and alone. Other guys would kill to be in the situation I was in, and I wasn’t enjoying it. What was wrong with me? I no longer felt like a kid, an adult, or anything in-between. I hardly felt human.

I moved to Georgia in 2004 because my dad got a new job. I was a high school freshman in the midst of 3,000 strangers. Furthermore, I was gawky, short, and essentially unapproachable. I looked like I was eleven years old, and my still voice hadn’t developed. To make matters worse, anytime someone attempted to talk to me, I was so worried about faking who I was, I became unlikable. I felt like the annoying little brother who walked into his sister’s bedroom while her friends were over, pretending to be older and cooler just to fit in. I knew I wasn’t welcome, and for half a year, I was stuck in this impossible nightmare with nowhere to go.

Naturally, my grades saw a major decline. This pissed off my dad, who normally was very patient and understanding, but he suddenly made it miserable for me to come home. My dad grew up with nothing and worked for everything, and he was not going to have a son who slacked off for no reason. He encouraged me to do better, but it always seemed to be by yelling and screaming and hammering his gloomy childhood experience into my head. I told my dad I just didn’t care about anything anymore, which was true, but that didn’t settle with him. One weekend morning, I distinctly remember sleeping in late, and my dad stormed into my room and literally pushed me off of the bed and onto the floor. I was stunned. My dad had never done anything physical like that before in his life. I didn’t know how to handle it. I just closed my eyes and didn’t move.

That’s when I realized home and school were indivisible. They both were miserable places to be, and each day, I was literally moving from one version of Hell to the next. I was so depressed, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t contemplate suicide.

Then, at the start of my sophomore year, I borrowed a pen from a girl in my Biology class and started a friendship that saved my life. The girl’s name was Courtenay, and she was a freshman who consistently wore jeans and a hoodie and went around the school with her head bowed and her hands in her pockets. I immediately saw myself in her and wanted to know the person behind the hoodie. What was she hiding? What was her story?

I won’t divulge into Courtenay’s past, as that’s not the focus here, but I will say it was the first time in several years I was actually connecting with someone on an emotional level. I never told her I was gay, and I denied it on several occasions, but I was still interacting with a person who actually wanted to be around me, and I recollect looking into the bathroom mirror not long after meeting her, seeing my reflection in a way I never did before, and feeling completely human again. Courtenay was undoubtedly bringing out the best in me in a way no one ever could before.

I became such an exuberant and happy person, other people caught on and wanted to be around me, too. I was even getting along with my sister and parents at home. All of this was going on while I was also growing into my looks and voice. That’s when I noticed a girl in my history class starting to flirt with me, and for someone who hardly felt human six months ago, I couldn’t ignore that much-needed attention. I started dating the girl, and the company felt so good, I overlooked the fact that I knew it wasn’t going to work out with who I really was. But I had been alone for so long that any closeness was better than nothing, and I stayed with this girl for another six straight months just to feel anything.

I told Courtenay I was going to break up with the girl the night before I did it. I shared with her that it just wasn’t working out, when in truth, I finally came to my senses and just no longer wanted to waste the girl’s time. Even though the girl liked me a lot, there was no chance at a future, and it wasn’t fair to continue egging her on like that. This girl later spread rumors that I had cheated on her with Courtenay, and she couldn’t have been any further from the truth. Courtenay and I laugh about to this day, but I’ve always laughed for a different reason.

That was four years ago, and in that time, I stayed out of relationships, graduated high school, got a job, and even placed in a screenwriting contest and got a couple of short stories published. I felt no reason to announce my sexuality during those years because I didn’t see the point of it. If I’m not interested in dating guys just yet, why put myself through the worry and general discomfort of coming out? I always pictured announcing my sexuality by walking through the front door of my parents’ house holding my partner’s hand, smiling and saying, “Hey guys, I’d like you to meet somebody.”

But life never works out the way you expect it to.

A lot of things happened over the summer of 2009 that really put things into perspective for me. My dog of eleven years was put to sleep. I was laid off from my job the day after my twentieth birthday. My mom was laid off from her job several weeks later. My dad was informed he would have to retire in just over a year. My parents put our house up for sale, and not soon after, the Flood of 2009 nearly washed it away. On top of all of this, I noticed a lump in a very peculiar place, only to discover after extensive surgery that it may be a sign of Crohn’s disease.

“Great,” I’m thinking. “I haven’t even been with a guy yet, and I’m already having problems with my ass.”

On the night of September 22, 2009, I went into my room, changed into my night clothes, turned off the light, and climbed into bed. As I lay there in the dark trying to get to sleep, a myriad of images come over me, and I see the worst of everything that could possibly happen in my life. My family dying. The surgery going wrong. The flood actually taking away our uninsured home and leaving us completely broke. But for the first time ever, I don’t see the problem I had always assumed was there.

I fell asleep that night knowing that, because being gay was no longer an issue for me, I was going to tell somebody the truth. And in the next twenty-four hours, I did.

It was awkward, but an experience I wouldn’t take back for anything. I volunteered to buy my sister lunch, and she agreed to drive. As we pulled out of the neighborhood, I said to her, “You know how people used to ask me if I was gay, and I always denied it?” She could tell I was struggling, and somehow, without any words at all, she made it even more comfortable for me to talk. I told her I was sorry for lying about who I was, and that she shouldn’t feel burdened by the news and could tell anyone she wanted. She immediately stopped me in my place and said it wasn’t in her position to do that.

That began the car ride I had desperately needed for thirteen years.

A few days later, I asked to meet with Courtenay face to face, and while once again going for a drive, I told her the truth. She didn’t have a clue, which surprised the hell out of me, but she was also unbelievably accepting and supportive. She asked me if she could tell her mom the news, and I said yes. That night, I received a text message from her mother that read: “Heard your news – Glad you are making changes to live a happy life. Love you.”

This is as far as I’ve gotten with the coming out process. My parents have been out of town for most of the week celebrating their 25th anniversary, and that’s why I haven’t told them yet. I wanted to tell them the news the day before they left, but at the same time, I didn’t want to burden them with the truth and ruin their much-needed vacation. I figured if I could wait thirteen years to speak out for the first time, another few days wouldn’t kill me. However, you might be amazed how slow the time goes by when you’re actually motivated to do something important for yourself.

I’m pretty sure my parents have been waiting for me to come out longer than I have. I know they might seem like insensitive bigots from their small presence in my story, but they are incredibly understanding and compassionate people. My dad says “love you” to me every time he hangs up the phone, and my mom has basically devoted her life to keeping the family together. I am also eternally grateful to both of them because, growing up, they never took me to church because they wanted me to form my own opinion about religion and see everything with a completely unbiased view. For a family from the Bible Belt, that’s extremely rare.

I’m sharing this story in hopes of helping anyone who feels alone and stuck in their life. Please hang in there. There are good days and bad days. You have to work with both every once in a while, otherwise the good days wouldn’t impact our lives the way we want them to.

 

:eusa_clap

wow, gotta say, that actually brought tears to my eyes. there were definitely some big parts i could relate to. i'm glad you're finally able to start getting comfortable with yourself now. based on the description i'm sure your parents will be fine. and as far as coming out goes, it sounds like you've definitely gone through the worst of times already. *note my siggy, i'm not going to guarantee that everything will be easier from now on, but at least you'll feel better about yourself for being honest with your friends and family.

 

Thanks for letting me share it.

Thanks for reading, Gaetan. I appreciate it.

Yep.

Thanks, Paco. Posting the story here is just one of the many steps I'm taking to get comfortable in my own skin. It's refreshing being able to visit a website like this and no longer having to worry about whether or not I deleted my browsing history. You just reach a point where you don't care anymore, and I'm over it.

Thanks for the kind words about my writing, Kenko.

Yeah, the coming out experience has been surprisingly smooth. It's everything else in my life that's giving me trouble. Go figure.

Thanks for the support. I'm hoping to stick around and post more, but seeing as how my life is one big fail after another, it won't be as much as I'd like. I'll definitely keep everyone updated.

 

Welcome to EC Your writing is lovely. And good luck with coming out to your parents!

 

Thanks, Astaroth! I'm hoping to have the talk with my mom tomorrow, but knowing my life, something will probably get in the way. Fingers are crossed.

Thank you.

Wow, I can't believe my story is actually connecting with people. I mean, Batman & Robin is in the title. I'm a little surprised here. :lol:

Thanks, shorty.

 

Seriously, I didn't think ANYBODY connected with that movie. :lol:

I told my mom the news today. I'll write up the whole story when I have some more free time.

Thanks again to everyone for the encouragement and support. You guys are great.

 

So telling my mom the news has been my favorite part of the coming out process.

My mom and I decided to get my haircut today and then get something to eat, but we really couldn’t settle on a restaurant. I knew I wanted to tell her the truth at lunch, but I didn’t want it to be somewhere crowded, or at an open place where a waitress would be hovering over us every second. She suggested Sonic. I immediately thought of sitting in the car together, alone, and said, “Perfect.”

I’ve realized that coming out to someone you really care about is much easier while sitting in a vehicle. It’s a very small and personal space. You feel dedicated to the person you’re talking to, and you don’t feel distracted or rushed.

So we drove to Sonic. We ordered our food, and right after one of the Sonic workers dropped off our meal and left, I turned to my mom and said, “Have you noticed a change about me? You know, other than the possible Crohn’s disease?”

She looked me over, smiling. “Well, I don’t know. Your eyes don’t have dark circles under them, and that’s weird because you woke up early today.”

“Anything else?”

“Your teeth look whiter.”

“Really?” I checked in the mirror.

“I don’t know,” she laughed. “You seem...comfortable, I guess.”

There was a silence. I looked at her, a small smile forming, and said, “I came out to Heather and Courtenay.”

There was another silence.

“So what do you think?” I asked, ready to hear something. She chewed her food and swallowed.

“Well, I’m thinking...” she began, her voice trailing off, “how is this gonna work if you have Crohn’s disease?”

“Huh?” I said stupidly.

“Sex,” she replied bluntly. “How are you gonna have sex? Did the doctor say your ass can handle it?”

I impulsively laughed, shaking my head.

“What’s so funny?” she asked. “There’s only one way to have sex with another guy, right?”

“Jesus, Mom! I’m just coming out! That doesn’t mean I’m a Public Storage for dick!”

“OK, OK. I’m just worried about you. So you’re not seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been with a guy?”

“No.”

“So how do you know for sure that you’re gay?”

“I just know, Mom.”

“So why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Well,” I said, swallowing a lump in my throat, “it’s just been a shitty summer. You know, losing my first dog, losing my job, getting the surgery...”

“No, no, no. I mean, why do you feel the need to come out at all?”

“Because it’s something I want people to know.”

“Who cares?” she said, smiling. “Seriously, who gives a shit? Chris, you don’t need to explain yourself to anyone. I don’t come to you talking about what I plan to do with your dad every night—”

“—OK OK OK! I don’t need to hear that.”

“Exactly. Some things are personal for a reason, and sometimes you just do what you want to do, and to hell with everyone who needs a reason for doing it.”

We spent the next hour just talking: how my mom always knew; how my dad pretty much had an idea, too; how I should tell him anyway. It felt like I was talking with a best friend. I know for sure this is the one relationship that’s going to get better from all of this. I’ve always been close with my mom, but this is still a huge leap forward.

Two more people to tell (my dad and my future brother-in-law), and then I don’t care who else knows. Fingers are still crossed.