May I have the next dance?

As I was watching youtube with my best friend (we were bored so we started looking for videos of cute guys kissing), we stumbled with this.

Accepting the fact I was gay didn't take me long, even though I had to lie in front of my whole class, the moment I understood what "gay" was, was the moment I said "Oh, so that's what it's called? Cool." (Note: Read, if you haven't, the Innocence post, this is kind of a follow up)

I had it pretty easy on myself.

But accepting yourself is one thing, being accepted by the one you love...

When I finished junior-high, we had a prom (per se), we each went on our own and had a small waltz at the beginning, luckily I had my best girl as my partner. Helmet-Head looked really cute, he sat next to me at dinner, he still didn't know I loved him, and then there was... the dancing.

I say I have a pretty lousy memory, and it's true, but I'll never forget what happened that night.

No, we didn't kiss.

But we danced.

I loved him very much, and I knew that after that night we wouldn't be seeing each other, his parents wanted a different school than the one I was going to.

That was going to be our last night together (next time I saw him was 3 years after that), and he asked me if I wanted to dance with him.

Fuck yeah!

(Post-Edit Note: For those wondering... No, nothing happened with him after that; he was straight, so he chickened out of our friendship when he found out about my crush.)

Coming out of the closet (mom edition)

A couple of years ago, when I finally had my first boyfriend, I was still inside the closet with my family (the fact that everyone in high-school and… basically anyone who knew me that didn’t have my last name is irrelevant), so when I went out on a date with my Doctor (oh yeah, didn’t mention that before, did I?) I told my mom “I’m going to Tomboy’s house after work, see you later!”

That week I “went” to Tomboy’s house at least 4 times. Everything was going fine, I actually went to her house one of those times, lucky me… my mom called me on my cell to tell me she was outside of tomboy’s house. My penis shrank so much I almost grew a vagina. That was a nasty analogy, wasn’t it? Sorry.

Sooo, anyway, I finally decided I had to tell her, didn’t wanna have to beat around the bush… no pun intended.

After the fifth date with McQueery, I came home to find my mom watching TV, she’s just sitting there with the soaps, I sit with her for a while; she noticed I wanted to tell her something, she turns off the TV, looks at me and says – What do you wanna tell me? – I really went rigid, trying to find a way of coming out gracefully… and all I can say, is that I failed miserably.

Fag: Mom, the thing is…

Mom: Yeah?

F: Well… I, mmm, well… you saw this guy and well… *inhales* thethingisthatI’vehad5dateswithhimalreadyandIreallylikehimandyeahthat’swhatIwantedtotellyou andthatmybutthurts, butthat’sbecauseI’vebeenseatingforawhile! DAMN! *hyperventilates*

M: So, what you are trying to tell me is that…

F: Yeah, I’m gay…

After a while, she finally told me this:

M: Just promise me that you’ll never wear women’s clothing, ok?

I love my mom.

I think I left my innocence in the backseat of your car...

When I was 14, feelings towards Lestat (vampire lover, if you have to know) developed in an almost favorable way. I told him I liked him and, not a moment later, he started using that to his advantage. He knew that if he ever needed something, a few hugs and some patting (I’m not kidding) was all it took for me to do it. This went over for a couple of years, we slowly drifted apart. Then, a year ago or so, I had the chance of catching up with him for a while and, guess what? He confessed he had a thing for me for a while… yeah, I wanted to kill him.

Not much to report for the next couple of years… until a month before going to college.

I don’t even remember how I got there, but when I was 18, I found a gay-website with listings of people in MY city; needless to say, I was fascinated. I quickly registered (free!) and asked myself calmly “What’s there to lose?” Soon afterwards I received an instant message from a 21-year-old guy that lived at the other side of the city, we chatted for 8 hours non-stop, and the next day he picked me up from work. It was my first, real, date, and the guy was gorgeous. I never thought I’d actually find a decent-looking person thru that shabby site, but I was so wrong. We dated for a month, I asked him to be my boyfriend, he accepted. We didn’t last long, unfortunately. It was a really confusing time for me, never had a boyfriend before and I actually didn’t know what to do or how to act. My first kiss (regular and french), my first make-out session… they all took place almost one after the other in less than an hour. I guess it was Destiny’s way of saying “I owed you, kid, here you go! Have fun!”

Anyway, I noticed this two stories didn’t make much of a post individually as I’d previously planned so there you go, I won’t be posting this frequently (1 post per day) but I’ll try to keep a steady rhythm on the updates.

Innocence

When I was 9 years old, I changed school once again (my mum wanted the best and, apparently, every year there were better schools so I never quite had the chance of making friends), didn’t know a single kid, I was so shy. For some reason, I took an English class for kids younger than I was, and that’s where I met my first friend, my first best-friend, my first “boyfriend.” We would hang out all free-periods, beg our parents for more playtime. I don’t really remember who started it, but after a while, we started holding hands, not knowing that it was socially incorrect. It felt good, nice, warm… we didn’t want to stop doing it.

And of course, not a single minute passed when we did this at school, everyone, and I do mean everyone, threw as many nasty comments as they could. That forced us out of it, the whole friendship. What else could you expect? I was 9 and he was only 8.

Three years later, I had made some friends over the years but it wasn’t till I met Helmet-Head (amazing straight hair) that I went down that same road all over again. He was the new kid, shy as I once had been. I didn’t know why but I needed to be his friend. I introduced him to my friends, started hanging out and six months after I realized I liked him more than I liked my other friends. It didn’t take that long afterwards to finally admit it to myself, I was in love with him (or at least, that’s what I thought love was). I never told him, I didn’t need to, he knew.

The funny thing is… I never thought there was something wrong with me or with what I was feeling. My innocence would prevail, for now.

I still felt something for Helmet-Head alter summer vacations (even though he changed schools) and it was then, when I told someone for the first time I had a crush on a guy. Guess where this is going… yes. I got my first nickname “Porky the gay” (not the cleverest thing, but that’s 13-year-old bullying for you). The whole thing just… it took me a while to realize what “gay” meant and even more to understand that it was wrong to be gay. It still hurts a little when I think about it, my stupid-ass teacher convinced me to go up to the front of the classroom and tell everyone I was just playing, that I was not gay, that I was just testing their friendship.

They quickly got over it... I don't know if I ever did.