Memories of a cute theater boy

As I was looking over images on Google, I ran across the quote that I've included in this post.  It got me to thinking about how true it is.  Most specifically, it got me to thinking about just how life changing my crush on a certain theater guy changed my life.  I was a senior in college and trying to finish out my last semester while dealing with my feelings.   About a year and a half prior to that I had finally admitted that I was attracted to guys and that it was more than "just a phase."  However, I was still deeply entrenched in my conservative Christian upbringing and trying to go the ex-gay route.  (You know, pray hard enough and hope the whole mess goes away.)  I was struggling.

Volunteering to run a follow-spot during one of the school's productions did not help, as it introduced me to Barry (not his real name) and gave me way too much time to stare at his incredibly beautiful body.  Barry was a freshman, thin, and had a certain stage presence that I found absolutely alluring.  To make matters more troubling, Barry was also a central character in one of the song and dance numbers.  As such, for the duration of the number, Barry was to be in the spotlight.  Take a wild guess which follow spot operator got the task of keeping a beam on him?

As such, I spent every run-through of that number carefully watching every single move that Barry made with his lithe, adorable body.  It wasn't long before that initial attraction I had felt grew into a full-fledged crush.  By the time that the show was over, I was ready to declare my undying love for him.  Between my growing desire and my growing frustrations, I finally decided I couldn't keep denying how I felt or kidding myself into thinking I could pray away the gay.   And eventually, I did profess my undying love for Barry.

Well, I didn't really call it my undying love.  And I was really quite juvenile about it.  Because I couldn't get up the courage to tell him in person, I sent him an  email through the university system.  I told him that I was gay and that I was attracted to him.  It was both frightening and liberating.

I have to admit that Barry was a total angel about the whole thing.  He wrote me back and told me that while he was honored that I came out to him and trusted him enough to confess my feelings for him, he was heterosexual and couldn't return my feelings.  It was heart-breaking, yet reaffirming and comforting at all the same time.  I had come out and confessed my attractions to a guy and the world had not ended.  He had not spurned me as a human being.  In fact, he treated me with a great deal of respect.

It was at that moment that I realized I couldn't go back into the closet.  And while there were other contributing factors and things that took place at the same time, Barry played a huge role in that first, life changing step for me.

Authenticity, Friendships, and Coming Out

Average gay dude wrote a short but powerful post about coming out yesterday.  I highly recommend checking it out.  He encourages everyone to come out, expressing what he sees (and I concur) as a terrific benefit:

No one said coming out was easy, but it will be the most beneficial decision to your happiness. But one thing I can promise you is that you’ll feel FREE.

I think every single one of us who have been there were smiling and nodding along with that statement.  It's one thing to admit to yourself that you're gay or bisexual.  And there's a lot of power to be found in the self-acceptance process.  But there's a lot to be said for admitting it to others as well.  Average gay dude is right:  It's about freedom.

• It's about freedom from having to hide who you were with Friday night.
• It's about freedom from having to change pronouns.
• It's about freedom from having to worry about who sees you with your date or lover.
• But most importantly, it's about the freedom to share your authentic self with others.

Okay, some of us think
we're in the closet when
everyone's already figured
it out anyway.

I'm grateful that when I first accepted myself as a gay man and started the coming out process, I was constantly bombarded with messages that emphasized that last point.  Much of the coming out advice I read contained a statement similar to the following:

Always remember that the reason you're coming out to the person in front of you is because you care enough about them that you want to be truly honest with them and share the real you with them.

As a total people-person^[1], that idea is always important to me.  I think it's also what makes the coming out process so scary, especially when it comes time to come out to loved ones who are already an important part of our lives.  We fear that those loved ones may prove to be too attached to the not-quite-accurate versions of ourselves that we've presented them for so long.  We fear they might actually prefer that version of ourselves to the more authentic and more fully multidimensional versions of ourselves we are now offering to share with them.  We fear this could create endless conflict or even a permanent loss of that relationship.

I've been blessed in that most of the people I've been close to were able to come around to accept and embrace the "new" (though "newly revealed" or "more fully revealed" might be more accurate) me.  Even my mother has started to ask me about dates I mention in passing or any boyfriend I might have at the moment.  Sure, it took her over a decade to reach that point, but here we are now.  It wasn't an easy road, but in the end it was worth it.

Those who could not fully accept who I was, I've allowed to drift away.  In at least one case, it was pretty easy as the process had already begun.  In fact, in that case, the person had been out of my life for several years and I mainly came out to her to let her know why I doubted it would be a good idea to rejuvenate our nearly dead friendship.  (She agreed.)

While that pain was small for me, I do know the pain that comes with the realization that sharing a more honest version of myself may mean rejection.  And I can understand why many fear facing the painful realization that even one of their close friends may choose to reject zir true self when it is offered.

I also know that in time, the pain of such rejection when it occurs fades.  The pain of lying to someone and knowing (or even just fearing) that the only reason they'll stay by your side is to keep the lie going will last indefinitely, compounded each time that choice is reenacted.  In the end, I prefer and recommend the pain that lasts briefly and will fade to be replaced by the acceptance of those who can and will cherish one's authentic self.  Many old friends will stay true, and there are new friends to be added.  In the end, I think that's worth it.

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^[1]It may seem ironic to some people that I'm also an introvert.  The thing is, being a people person is very much a separate issue from being introverted or extroverted.  We introverted people persons might be a bit odd, and we certainly might struggle to balance our desire to be connected to others with our need to have our alone time and rich inner lives, but we do exist.