I think I first realized I was different from the other kids at my grade school when I was 12 years old. All the guys would be talking about girls and how sweet or cute this-n-that one was and how they wanted to "bang" or "hump" this-or-that one and all I kept thinking was about the one boy who lived across the river from the town we were living in at the time. Looking back I can truthfully say those sleep-overs with him were definitely defining in my life. Children at that age, regardless of gender, are bound and determined to "experiment" with each other; however, I never "graduated" onto other things. That boy and I were both 12 and let's just say we were rather close up until the time he "graduated" to being with girls only, around age 13. I remember feeling rejected and isolated when he stopped coming over, and when we drifted apart as friends, but I think I knew that I was bound to that particular course of study for life.
As I got older and became a teenager I still was having both those emotional yearnings and physical desires for members of my own sex but I just thought to myself "Well, I'll try to fit in with the others and try this girl thing." Boy, was that a mistake! I'll never forget my "first time" with a girl. She was 17, I was 15 and my family had gone away for the night to one of my sister's cheerleading events and the scene was set. We both went to my bedroom, stripped and the first thing she said to me was "I know this is your first time but just relax, take your time and don't worry, I'm on the pill." Looking back I shoulda been the one telling her not to worry. Back then I didn't know a whole lot about foreplay, but that worked out just fine because there wasn't any. We tried kissing a little bit but then I stopped because my inner voice told me "This does not feel right, not one bit." So I stopped. And then just as I was about to...I once again stopped. She asked me "What's wrong, are you feeling okay?" And I looked her right in the eyes and I calmly, very sincerely told her "I'm sorry, this just isn't gonna work me" and she said very calmly in return "Is it me, have I done something wrong?" and at that point I had put my undies back on and I laid next to her on the bed and said, looking into her eyes, "It's not you, it has nothing to do with you. It''s me, this just isn't me and I am sorry." What she said next still blows my mind to this day "Don't be sorry for who you are, it's nothing to be ashamed of - besides, I think you're pretty special just the way you are." Words of wisdom that I still believe in to this day.
I guess this is the point where I should tell all the straight guys out there that if they ever run into an older woman whom they're really interested in, it's true what they say - they are more mature and more wiser! So all in all, I'd have to say that my first and only attempt into heterosexuality was not a life-scarring experience, but rather a life-defining experience. Some critics may say "You were too young then, you really don't know what might have been had you gone all the way." No, that's not true, my instincts, my inner voice told me very clearly as I was about to, you know, "This is not you, this is not who you are" and I have no regrets paying attention to my instincts, especially at such a young age. That was enough to convince me that I knew the inner truth all along. What happened that night was yet another confirmation of it.
Getting back to the aftermath of that June evening in 1982....I can't remember if it was a Monday or a Friday, that June 13th, but I did indeed ride my bike to my grandparent's house and when I told my grandparents everything that had happened, my Grandma insisted that I stay with them for a couple of days, until things settled down, so that's what I did. And when I went back home, even though everything was calm, I knew that things in our family would never be the same.
I tried the counseling route, both through your average psychotherapist as well as just one session with my family's Pastor and let me tell you what happened. The therapist told my family something that I was equally surprised to hear come out of her mouth - "There's nothing wrong with your son. He is a homosexual, pure and simple. If anything, the problem lays in the family dynamics, within each of you, but certainly not him." Naturally my family rejected her evaluation of the situation but I beamed larger and brighter than a giant Siamese cat when I heard those words come out of her mouth. As for the Pastor? He reminded me that it was a sin to be homosexual and that I would surely be damned to hell for my evilness, for God doesn't create such abominations, only the Devil does. I very firmly and most emphatically told him "Ya know Pastor, you're not as much of a Christian as you say you are because God created me too and God does not create garbage, people like you create garbage!" And that marked the end of my association with any and all organized religions. Just as with coming out, leaving the world of organized religion behind me was equally liberating because it was exactly like coming out in one very distinct regard - it was 100% for me.
Speeding things up from those paltry summer days of 1982, to July, 2010, so much has happened in my life since then as I'm certain it has in all of yours too. I'll give an update where things stand now between my family and myself....
As you may recall, my Dad died in 1989; but, we had made amenz with each other before he died and I am very grateful for that. The comment he made the night I came out was strictly out of ignorance and anger. No, I'm not defending him but merely pointing out that he reacted the way he did because he didn't know how to react. He hadda very hard time accepting me for about a year or so after that but once again, my Grandma stepped in and told him "He's your child, you just can't turn your back on him. He is the way he is and you need to learn to accept him for who he is." Eventually, he did. I still can't believe this, but he actually went to a few PFLAG meetings after I left the Midwest and went off to college; and, he did come around.
The last conversation I had with him was a few days before he died and was very moving yet so sad. The stroke that hit him affected his speech as well as his memory and I get very choked up when I remember that conversation because it was the same exact thing he said to me before I left for college and thank God his memory banks were allowed to retain that before he died. Towards the end of that conversation he said "...just remember Son, I love you very much. You need to get away from here and live your own life and be happy. This life isn't for you, you need to go to California and be happy." He remembered the speech he gave me before I left home and that was good enough for me.
As for my Mom, she too has come a long way since those days and we have a so-so relationship for the most part. We only get one mother and I do love her but without going into a lotta personal drama, let's just say that I'm closer to my Grandmother because she just has been in my corner ever since I can remember.
As for my older sister, we're not that close either. And as for younger sister, she is totally immersed in organized religion and feels the same way that that nasty Pastor who I read the riot act to felt. As for my nieces and nephews, I'm "not allowed" to tell them anything about my personal life because homosexuality is "wrong and an abomination in the eyes of God." Oh well, I see them maybe once a year if I'm lucky and they know I love them just as they love me, but they dont really know a thing about me. It is true what they say - children arent born prejudiced, they are spoon-fed bigotry and hatred by their parents. It's so sad but like they say, when you do your best to make a situation work and the other people involved won't put any effort forward, then all you can do is know that you did your best and you need to walk away from it.
So there you have it. In reviewing what I''ve written I'm sure there's a lot of you out there who can identify with what I went through. For myself and for you I wish that some of the situations we experienced wouldn't have been so negative, but rather than mourn what happened, let's be thankful that we survived it, appreciate that it made us stronger individuals, and best of all, celebrate who we are as people. No matter who you are or what you've been through in life, just remember that there is only one you and you're pretty damn special just the way you are. Thank you for reading and if you're traveling this weekend for both the Fourth of July holiday as well as for Pride celebrations here in America, Canada and beyond, please have a proud, safe and happy holiday weekend.
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