Like an old faded, square 70’s photograph with the date stamped at the bottom, a difficult childhood memory popped up. It feels just as foggy as that discolored photo because I was so good at filing it away. While watching Jonestown on PBS again last night brought this back. Growing up gay in my time was not really fun, so I began to hone my survivor skills. I did other things, and just ignored it as best as possible. After my horse phase in Junior high, I got a motorcycle at 14, because it was legal to ride under a certain CC size.
That bike gave me even more freedom to get away, than a horse did. I rode around with neighbor friend, but often alone to stare at the clouds and think about how lonely I was, since I could tell anyone what was really bothering me. Even though my friend was experimenting with sex and his friends, I astutely realized that he was not gay, and knowing no love could come out of it. ..only more pain and potential exposure. So I never told him. I did meet a kid who was nice to me, and exposed me to his Christian youth group friends. I met them but avoided any bible study because I knew it only condemned me. I would agree, or just change the subject. I just wasn’t going to drink the kool-aid. One night I drove to his house for a party with his friends. There was a point later in the night, when my friend and I went to his room. He said one girl liked me and what did I think? I think I confessed to him that I like guys, and the night spiraled into hell. He made a scene like I was no friend of his and I left driving home with a red face. This was my first real coming out. I never saw him or his friends again. Now, I can say confidently it was their loss.
No comments:
Post a Comment