part of the family.

I attribute how I live my life "out of the closet" to a single moment in 2001 (I know, I'm such a baby). The following is a memoir of that event.

The set-up:

His name was Jeff. I'd met him on a gay chat site. It's sad really; While most gay men start their coming out stories by describing the anxiety they felt as they walked into a gay club for the first time, my first timer fear was that someone in the computer lab would happen to look over my shoulder and see the not-so-conspicuous domain name of a gay chat site. Truth be told, my first gay bar experience did not happen until almost two years after I came out.

I digress: he liked what I said and I liked what he said so I packed up my naivete to meet Jeff for an evening of "come over and we'll decide on something to do". Ah if I had known then...

The Date:

Unsuccessful at his attempts to get his roommate out of the apartment, Jeff met me at the front door and quickly shooed me into the hall. His plan B consisted of driving around while deciding on a place to get to know each other. Little did Jeff know that I was reluctant to be seen in public with a flamboyant gay man (even though Jeff assured me,as he checked his mascara in the rear view, that I would learn that he's masculine compared to the rest of the gays).

Eventually, Jeff's Corsica was low on gas and our evening drive lead us to a Mobil: bright lights, major highway, parking lot full of people. This was the height of anxiety for me. As I shrank low into the passenger seat, Jeff sashayed to the pumps and filled his tank. I could not take anymore.

When he bounced back into the driver's seat, I suggested to Jeff that we call it a night. He agreed.

The Kiss [off] Goodnight:

Yes, I was a self-hating closet case that dated women; I'd even consummated more that one relationship with a vagina. Although I had "experimented" with a few boys in high school, this was the first time I could remember having an unspoken green-light to touch another man, to kiss another man. A gay man.

So, Jeff came in for the kill. What followed was my first "real" gay kiss and my first delivery of my now patented "I'm-just-not-into-you speech". Although these days I can let a guy down without a bunch of thought or condescension, poor Jeff fell victim to my inexperience.

The Retaliation:

I can't recall exactly what I said, but I guarantee it included one or more of the following phrases: "too gay", "so feminine", "terribly flamboyant", "queen", and "fancy".

Now, let me take this opportunity to apologize to Jeff. But in my defense, you were, in my closeted and jaded experience of all things gay, every stereotype that I hoped never to become (as I felt, and still feel, that a handful of gays tend to get "gayer" as they go).

In a cunning display of the fierce wit that I have come to love about my fellow Homos, Jeff let me have it. Here, again, I cannot recall exactly what was said because I went into a self-defensive blackout. But I do recall one thing that he said. Verbatim.

"...In a year I'll see you shirtless, swinging from the pole on stage at Marcella's..."

(note: Marcella's = gay bar)

That was the moment. The moment I knew that I may never fit into the mold that Jeff had promised me. The moment I knew that I would never take my shirt off in ANY club. The moment I knew that gay and masculine aren't mutually exclusive. It was the moment in which I knew the gay life that looked so comfortable for so many gay men would never feel that way for me.

It is on the occasion of Buffalo Pride that I am reminded of Jeff and his wisdom. I have, for the past 5 years, supported the flamboyant parade and made a quiet appearance at the festival that follows. And for the past five years I have felt like an outsider. I am at a loss for words to explain my feelings. Friends (gay or otherwise) have told me that I just need to get used to it, while others have tried to convince me that I am actually homo-phobic. I must conclude that both camps are wrong.

Upon coming out, I made the commitment to myself that I would never compromise who I am by hiding my homo-ness. Never would I hide behind a hetero-facade. Never would I shy away from a blind date with a woman by saying I've a girlfriend. And never would I be the guy who substitutes my sexual identity for my personality.

Six years out, and even writing this gives me anxiety. I am committed to supporting equality for all people, but I cannot reconcile my feelings of not belonging to the community because I am most comfortable when I'm around close friends in a non-sexuality specific bar; not that I disagree with he idea of a homo-only bar, in fact I enjoy going once in a while. It's just not my everyday. It's not how this homo is wired.

I can't help thinking that there are other gay men that feel the same way I do.

I'd intended this post to be part apology and part confession, but in the end it sounds more like a statement of fact. I've just got to fill these shoes the best I know how and stop looking at the rest of the world as a litmus.

I don't hate gay men and I don't hate being gay. I belief that some gay men hate/like me for being aloof to their comfortable community; Some gay men hate/like me because I don't follow their code of gay-ity; while some gay men secretly pine for my gay-related aloofness.

I believe that being out and visible is the most courageous and effective political statement that any gay person can make.

And I know that I will never be the shirtless guy swinging on a pole in Marcella's. (However, I reserve the right to take home any cute guy that is.)