A Gay Boy From The Beginning
It all started as early as I could remember. Around age 5, I was greatly fascinated with my older sister’s dolls and toys. I even remember asking my mom to paint my fingers with nail polish, just like my sister. Oddly enough, my mom never thought of it as “weird” or “strange” for a boy to be interested in such feminine things.
Growing up in a strict, Catholic household wasn’t an easy feat; especially for a gay boy. Skipping past my molestation incident when I was 7 years old, my first instincts of not being a normal boy occurred around age 9. Yes, I was attending a small, private Catholic school with only 20 or so students per class. In the fourth grade, I always felt different, not tough or well-liked by the other kids. I can’t explain why I felt alien all the time, I just did.
It wasn’t until I turned 10, when I had my first experience with another boy. I became very close friends with a peer, Trevor, who was also seen as “different.” Our friendship grew so quickly, that we were like brothers by the middle of the school year. A very long story short, we ended up kissing each other one night (a sleep over). After that year, I knew something was terribly wrong with me.
Starting middle school, I finally entered a public school environment. It was completely different in all aspects, with the teachers, rules, peers, lunches, everything. All of this was entirely new to me; sometimes I was too overwhelmed. I didn’t have a lot of friends and I wasn’t popular, and I wasn’t cool or big. As a late bloomer, I fought day and night with my inner feelings.
Most of my friends were “growing up,” getting bigger, taller, developed like men should be. It felt like I was lagging far behind everyone else. Multiple times I was mocked and teased for being so small and weak. I was already really sensitive to begin with, so these negative comments only added fuel to the flames of my insecurities.
Trying to fade out the nightmares from my molestation back when I was 7, the 9th grade was well underway. All of my friends (who were boys mind you) kept talking about girls. How they wanted to hug them, kiss them and be with them. My jaw dropped with awe. I couldn’t fathom what they were saying. Be with girls? Kissing girls? Hugging them? That sounded so wrong to me, and so vile. Something I could NEVER picture myself doing.
It was then when my friends started behaving oddly around me, or at least in my eyes they were acting differently. In fact, it was I who was the different one around them. Sometimes, I called my friend and invited him over, only to have him tell me, he was going on a date with a girl. This would get me so angry, asking myself, “Why would he want to hang out with a girl instead of me?”
While fighting these wrong feelings, my mother kept pestering me to find a girlfriend, or kept asking me “Which girls are cute in school?” I cringed at the thought of “cute girls” but I realized what I felt was wrong so I simply told my mom, “I haven’t seen any yet.” Deep down I knew I was different, well, I figured different now. Being a late bloomer, I told myself this was a phase I needed to bypass, and once I finally reach true puberty and become a man, I will find girls attractive.
At age 14, I still looked like a child, sounded like a child and was built like a child. The teasing in high school was even worse, especially from the seniors. The tall, intimidating seniors would blatantly march up to me and ask my age. When I answered, they would openly laugh in my face (a quick leap into the future, I didn’t reach puberty till about 16).
I felt so insecure while walking through the hallways of that school. Everyone, boys or girls, were bigger than I, more mature-looking than I, smarter, normal. Almost all of my friends now were obviously into the opposite gender, whether it was dating, holding hands in the hallways or talking on the phone with. Here I was, alone, confused, still waiting to find girls attractive. Again, I was still utterly convinced it was a phase because I was such a late bloomer.
It wasn’t until I saw a boy named Justin. He was in my grade, and he was in the music/band programs with me. I usually saw him everyday, before first block, in the hallway, next to the library doors. Most days, I’d find myself purposely taking the long way to my class to walk by Justin, just to see him. My stomach would twirl into dozens of threads when I saw his bright blonde hair and shiny blue eyes.
There was something about him, something I could never explain to myself, something I desperately desired. I remember during band, Justin was a woodwind player and sat towards the front, and as a percussionist, I had the entire back area of the music room to move around. There were times where I purposely inched my chair around, sliding back and forth, just so I could see him. He was a very popular boy, especially in the band clique. So I tried convincing myself, “I like Justin so much because I want to be his friend. Yeah, I just want to be his friend, so I can be popular too.” For over a year this is what I solely believed.
As time went on in my early years of high school, I found myself WANTING to please the other boys in anyway I could. If a boy asked me for a pencil, I jumped to attention and quickly handed him my best one. If a girl asked me, I shrugged and said, “Sorry, this is my only one.” I know that was sexist at the time, but I honestly had no idea I was doing that. Whenever the teacher lectured on and on, I drifted away into a fantasy of me and Justin. It didn’t matter what I was daydreaming about, Justin was in every single one.
High school was a mess in almost all ways possible. I got IBS due to my depression of the thought of being gay. So I missed a lot of school and was in extreme amounts of pain. I didn’t try real hard at school work, therefore my grades dwindled. Whenever I saw a cute boy, my body would shake without control and I loved and hated myself for it. Due to my insecurities about this issue, I was probably seen as the “social weirdo.” Even in junior and senior year, a few boys teased me for reasons unknown (maybe they knew, or was it because I was openly sensitive?).
Anyway, I was consciously aware I was gay during senior year when my “girlfriend,” Amy, wanted to make out with me and have sex. We kissed on the lips a few times but it felt so odd and awkward. I felt nothing, no spark, nothing. Amy seemed to be enjoying it, but I wanted to leave. I don’t remember my excuse for not having sex with her that night; I think I told her, “I’m not ready.” She kept pushing me and pushing me to kiss or make out with her and I kept putting it off with the lamest excuses. I deeply hated myself for doing that to her, but I could never make out with her.
Our friendship died down when we went to college, going our “separate ways.” Even at 18, I was still overly sensitive about being gay, well the “possibility of being gay.” I first came out to my mom, solo, one day after school. I’ve been reading gay-help websites and stories about kids coming out and most of them were happy endings. So I prayed that my mom loved me enough to accept me. Well, things didn’t go so well.
She immediately went on a guilt trip, claiming it was her fault and that she failed as a parent. I was in tears and speechless after I told her those three words. She went on and on about how bad and vile being gay was. About how I’d get AIDS, live alone forever, never have a normal family, never have friends, be spat on and beaten, live in a secluded neighborhood, everything anti-gay, you name it. I went into complete system shock while she scolded me. Without thinking, I went “back in the closet” and assured her it was probably just a phase that I’ll get through.
The next day I was sent into therapy for social anxiety, when the real reason was to cure me. It took me a whole year to tell my therapist the true reason why I was there. Another long story short, I called my parents in with my therapist and “officially” came out to them. Let’s just say, my parents will NEVER accept it. They’re both die-hard, close-minded Catholics that believe what they see and what they want to see. Both of them still believe it’s a choice and that I chose to be gay to upset them. I assured them, it wasn’t my choice and that I tried literally everything to change that. That’s when my dad told me he would rather have me with cancer than be gay.
Afterwards, my parents claim they love me, but it doesn’t feel real to me. I’m basically NEVER allowed to mention it ever again, never bring home a partner and never behave or act like it. It’s almost like, I never told them I’m gay and I’m supposed to pretend I’m not. I’m pretty sure my parents went so far back into denial that my mom probably thinks I’m straight now. She keeps making, “What happened to you and Amy? You two would have had beautiful children,” remarks to me every now and then.
I went to meet a gay guy who works at a diner near my house and if my parents knew I was going there for THAT reason, they would most likely officially disown me or kick me out. He was a nice guy, but not really my type. He’s way out there and extremely flamboyant. I’m okay with that, but as an introverted gay guy, that’s not my style.
So here I am now, still struggling in school to achieve “my dreams.” Everyday feels messed up, more and more.
I don’t know if I’ll go crazy one day and scream it at my parents, or if I’ll kill myself, I don’t know. My real dream is to become a father, to raise a son, so I can love him unconditionally, without stereotyping him, teasing him, pushing him, criticizing him, making him something he’s not. It doesn’t matter whether I’m with another man, or single.
To parents, never treat your children like their trash or a sin. You should love them unconditionally, no matter their sexual preference. Who cares if they love differently than you do? They’re not hurting anyone, and if you truly believe they’re hurting you, then you need to desperately rethink your philosophy of life. Majority of people believe what they see, not what’s real. They carry what they’re beliefs are onto their children and almost force it upon them. People need to open their mind to what’s outside their cave of comfort and see the real world. It would create so much more empathy in people and resolve so many conflicts going on in this messed up world.
February 12th, 2008 at 5:30 am
i really understand wat ur going =/
im 18 bi
and life sux
April 24th, 2008 at 4:24 am
I just found out that my ten year old son is gay, I have allways known. I feel some what responsible due to me being a lesbian as well, I’m ok with him comming forth and telling me but I do have a sence of sadness, I’m afraid of all the bad things that could happen to him and the life style of the gay community. My other son is very supportive and is ok with brother, he’s only eight and is very smart and tell me he loves his brother no matter what he is. I have given my son nothing but good advice and love, how do I deal with this? and not feel guilty for his sexuality.
May 8th, 2008 at 6:28 am
hi,
im a male in highschool now 15 in 9th grade and i have been gay for a year and proud to be honost im not sure wat its like to not be accepted cause the school i go to is verry gay friendly so it has not been a problem for me but i know the feeling of nasty parents im not sure wat to do either but if you need to talk ill be glad to
pyrostarc@aol.com
May 16th, 2008 at 11:53 am
Please I need help. My parents don’t accept me. They make fun of me and tell me what to do. I have been flamboyant ever since, I was a little boy. I wore lip gloss and nail polish. I’ve been put down. I really can relate to this. Sometimes I even cry myself to sleep. There are kids at my high school that make fun of me. I have always been so insecure. But I know, deep in my heart I’m gay and I’m proud. Please help me.
June 29th, 2008 at 5:17 pm
Hi. Really great that you wrote all this out. I’m 16 and lesbian, and in the process of coming out. I’m trying to find the best way to approach my parents. Luckily they’re not overly religious or anything, but I can’t be sure of how they’ll react.
I feel bad for you, because of the way your parents took it and you being teased.
How did your sister react?