The Hunt For A Gay Best Friend

When I was 16, which feels like YEARS ago, I began this blog to document who I was and how I was feeling. My posts reflected my fay to day interactions with people and their ignorance, my parents and their ignorance, and my internal struggles with love and loneliness. In one of my first posts, I wrote about community and how it can effect people. I also wrote another post talking about the public's right to know if you're gay, to help create community. Recently, those posts have been racing through my mind constantly.

As most of you know, I no longer struggle with a life without love. I have been in a relationship for almost a year and a half, and I couldn't be happier. I have someone to love, kiss, hold, cuddle, etc. But that's not all I want. What I would like is to have that group of friends where we share that common feature: being gay.

About a week ago (cue song and dance) I was talking to Kyle, the boyfriend, about making other gay friends. We have friends that consist of my brother and our mutual best friend, and two of his clients. I also have my friends, who I admit I rarely ever get to see these days, that I made through my previous job that I love very much, but from this point of view, it just doesn't seem the same. The problem is I won't know until I actually have another gay friend. One with similar interests and that I can just hang out with.

I told him that I had created a scruff, gay app, to meet other gay people. He made a joke about it the night before I made one, so it had actually got me thinking. Those apps aren't solely for dating! People go on there all the time just to meet different people! Granted there are a lot of guys on there who just want to have sex and date, but there are people on there that just want to meet other gay guys to hang around. Unfortunately, I deleted it because I felt that Kyle wasn't approving of it and felt some type of way, whether he wanted to admit to it or not. I felt guilty about it from the start because I knew that that's how a lot of other gay guys just found hook ups. Sadly, that's what most of the guys on there were looking for; if it wasn't about dick, then you weren't it.

But if that's the case, how's another gay guy to meet another gay guy with similar interests? I wish I could say I could just go to clubs or the bars, but I haven't reached that stage in my life yet. I thought being 18 was going to be fucking great! I could get into clubs, go to strip clubs, I'm a legal age, etc. NOPE. I can smoke and that's it for the most part. Nowadays, night life prefers people to be 21 to enter so they don't need to worry about illegal alcohol consumption. JUST. MY. LUCK.

I wish I could say that I could just walk up to people and have a conversation, but even that's just not as easy anymore. For one thing, it's hard enough to even find out if someone is gay! Sometimes you get a very accurate guess, however, that is all it is - a guess. What if you're wrong?  Then what? Awkward pause and then pray to God that you can play that shit the fuck off! Then you've just got a wierd story to tell everytime you see the guy.

I even really suck with picking out if someone is gay! I couldn't tell my coworker was gay until he said and then when he did, it all can into perspective! Sometimes just looking for stereotypes isn't the trick. Most people can't determine if I'm gay because I don't follow a lot of those stereotypes. I don't have a high pitched voice, the gay lisp, walk with a strut, dress any different than any other guy, or talk with my hands. I actually put on a gay front, if you will, to actually give people an incite that I'm gay. I act very over the top excited, say phrases like "Hey girl, hey!" To everyone, and say things like "hair flip" or quote Beyonce. Sometimes I'll even wear my pride bracelet to let people in a bigger incite incase they don't catch those hints.

I don't hide any of those features because I think about how it would affect me if I saw another guy doing that. My stomach would drop due to excitement, my heart would lunge for the connection, and my brain would scramble due to the series of interactions that occur. I would be overly estatic if I seen that because that would mean another opportunity to meet someone else like me, more so because I actually enjoy being like that. I would hope that even if they weren't out of the closet, they could find trust in me to have that conversation with me and I pick up on it. After all, that's all I ever wanted growing up.

What makes me most upset, is the fact that I have seen a generous amount of gay people lately, of course while I'm at work, and they're just so rude. They may not even be rude, but they are just outright sassy, and don't care. It's as if they give me that same look our entire community has been given just for being gay. It's almost like a look of "I don't have time for you or your silly questions or gaymes. I figured it out by myself, so can you." I know that look because I've seen it in my boyfriend. I know that look because at one point I had given it in one way or another.

What ever happened to being there for each other? What happened to just stopping for a moment and talking? Why does it seem so impossible to build a relationship with someone else so like you, but easier to dismiss them because you don't want to be bothered? Probably two weeks ago, I was at work where I see this guy every couple of nights and my "gaydar" goes off. He was a cute cub. he looked like a really cool and sweet genuine guy. Minutes later, I see him at the deli counter ordering and holding his boyfriend. Briefly, I see them share a kiss. It warmed my heart to see because naturally I feel like I'm the only gay guy for miles. But I know I'm not because my boyfriend is with me, making us the only two gay guys for miles, which can be very challenging for me at times because it makes me feel as though all eyes are on us and it makes me feel a little vulnerable. 
After they are done at the deli, they walk into the produce department, my department. At this point, my heart is racing. I'm ties between just not saying anything at all because I'm afraid of the rejection and how wierd it may come off, or being genuine and telling them how I really felt about it. What actually scared me was the thought of them being how my boyfriend would react if someone had complimented us. One time (what?! Another story while telling another one? Yeah, I'm trying something new.) me and Kyle were walking down the Jersey shore boardwalk hand in hand and another guy broke away from his group of friends and came over to tell us that we were the cutest couple and that he was happy for us. I genuinely said thank you and told him how much I appreciated it, but was kind of cut off by my boyfriend giving him a brief "uh-huh, thanks" and kept moving. Kyle solely thought the guy was just being a dick, but I thought the better of him.

It even happened while we were on vacation that another guy came over to talk to us just because we were gay and he wanted to express that it didn't matter and that his brother was gay. Kyle acted a little more genuine and continued talking, but he still wasn't very approving of what went on. He absolutely hates it when people just talk to us to give us their verification, as if we need it. However, I enjoy it. It shows me that the world is changing. Not all of us actually get to see it. He works in a profession that is very gay friendly - I do not. As of right now, I work in a grocery store in the produce department; no one is expecting me to be gay. I don't get to see the friendlier side of people with that all the time. Most of the time, I get the crazy older generation complain about us. It's nice to hear other straight people go out of their way to compliment us, because it is truly a compliment.

Back to the original story, I decided that I want to tell the couple how I felt about their kiss. I thought of it in my own shoes, I enjoy hearing that and it warms my heart, who's to say that they won't feel the same way? The cute cub did. As soon as I started talking, he cut me off and said "uh-huh, thanks." I had gotten halfway through the sentence to where I had saw the kiss and I thought it was cute and he just brushed me off and kept walking. He hardly acknowledged me; part of me thinks that he was half scared of what I was going to say so he just darted off because he didn't want to hear anything bad, but that would be me thinking the better of people. I know why he walked away.

That gave him a very bad look in my book. What is so bad about just accepting a compliment and building upon that? Honestly, it made him seem very sassy and rude, which is what I'm sure those people thought of Kyle whenever he dismissed them like that. Sad thing is he doesn't care, and neither do other guys who do this. They don't care how it comes off or what it does. I think about those repercussions and take them very seriously, mainly because they do not do us justice.

What they do is reinforce a stereotype. They reinforce the idea that we are very sassy and rude. That we believe ourselves to be above everyone and are uppity. That we don't want anything to do with the rest of the world unless it benefits us. I don't want to be looked at that way, and I certainly don't want to be referred to in that manner. Main thing is, he never even got to truly hear what I had to say, and now, he probably never will. He may not have known that I was gay, too, but would it have mattered if I was? To me, it should.

I believe you should want to make connections with people who share your community. Why not build and form a friendship? Some strong sensibility that makes us as gay people stronger. Who wouldn't want that? The black community does. That's why they formed together to create their own channel, their own movements, their own traditions. The 99 percent does. That's why they create their own marches, speeches, and outreach programs. The art community. That's why they have art shows, art sales, and contests. Why shouldn't we follow that example? More so, why shouldn't we branch out that community to our straight allies? They are who's votes truly mean a lot. They are our friends, our family, our neighbors, and our government. Why wouldn't you want to give them the opportunity to see who we truly are? Some people may not think a lot of this, but I do. And I think it's important.

I'm still on the hunt for a gay best friend. Someone just to hang out with. Go get dinner, work out with, be athletic with, etc.  I would prefer someone who was a part of the bear community as well, but being a part of the gay community is just as good. With this post, please remember that every interaction leaves a mark. Let's not leave a bad one.

~Be Breezy ~

Talking Professional

Woah, who's this guy?! I know, I have been on an incredible hiatus lately, a lot bigger than I had intended. I find it a bit funny that my reasoning is always that life has taken me away and I just never find the time to write, and yet, it is absolutely my reasoning! You would think after me quitting one of my jobs that I would have a bit more time, but I certainly don't! I work literally almost 40 hours a week and when I'm not there, I'm in class, and when I'm not there, I'm cleaning the apartment. The little bit of time I actually have to myself is generally on the bus when I just want to dive into the Harry Potter books.

Anywho, life in the apartment has been GREAT! It is literally the best thing I have ever done. I couldn't be happier. My life appears in this new light, a light called freedom and responsibility. In this light, I do whatever it is I deem beneficial to my life with my boyfriend, my job, and in pursuit of my career. I make all my choices and I don't have to refer to anyone else.

The best part is, no part of my move was detrimental to my relationship with my parents, at least not too much. My mom has come over and seen the entire apartment and even complimented on it! The parts that I was the most afraid of showing her were the parts that she seemed to have loved the most! I was petrified of showing her the bedroom, which holds two intimate pictures of me and Kyle and a Mr. And Mr. Sign, and the bathroom that holds two small his and his towels. She loved it all.

My dad has yet to see the apartment,  but according to my mom, he couldn't be more proud of me. She told me that he brags to everyone that I live on my own and how I afford it all with one job and I'm going to school. Every Sunday when we go to my parents house to watch whatever series me and my brothers are watching, I go to talk to my dad and he still talks to me, which is a plus, but beyond that, he seems the same.

Now that I have brought everyone up to speed, it is time to talk about the real topic. That's right everyone, I'm talking about the real scoop! The official trash. The bad mother SHUT YOUR MOUTH! Grab your cups of hot chocolate, take a swig, and let's discuss.

I work in a grocery store in the produce department. This place was even my first job. I have worked at this store since I was sixteen as a bag boy and have worked my way up since. I had gone from being a young bag boy, to being a cashier, to having worked with my managers, to now being in produce. Obviously, I like my job. I've been there for two years! I don't like working in certain parts of the store, but overall, it was a good first job and is a good place for me to hang out until I can work in my field.

The best part about my job are my coworkers. I get along with almost all of them and they all love me. They all know, for the most part, about me being gay and they're all cool with it. They've known me since I was just starting out and have seen me mature ever since. They love my work ethic and especially my ability to have fun at work. I'm always joking and always smiling. The customers love it, my coworkers love it, and it makes me smile to see such a smile on their faces.

Now that I work in a different department, I have more responsibilities and different coworkers. I still love them all the same, in fact, we're almost like a bit of a family. There's not many of us and we're not that close, but we work together pretty well and we get the job done. We know not to take each other seriously, we're a department filled with guys, NOTHING is ever too serious. Unless something gets messed up and puts us behind, then shit gets real. However, we all know what gets each other tick and sometimes we push on those buttons, but at the end of the day, we all have the same goal.

Me and my manager have a good relationship as well. I'm pretty sure I'm his third favorite part timer. There's this older gentleman who's been there for a long time, another guy who had been there longer than any other part timer other than the older gentleman, and then me. I've only been there about 5 months, so that's about what I expect.

As I've said, everyone at my job knows that I'm gay, including him. Just to get this out there, he is in no way homophobic. He and a lot of my other new coworkers know that I'm gay and none of them give a shit. They hadn't done much more than a quick flinch when I slid it into conversation, but nothing more than that.

Today, I was joking with him and he always jumps to either gay jokes or black jokes, which I don't mind. I actually find them pretty hilarious if they're well thought out. Anyways, he made a joke to which me and another coworker laughed at and then my assistant store manager came over, which I couldn't care less. My assistant store manager is no more intimidating than my other coworkers, and he knows I'm gay as well.

The three of us just started joking around and bullshitting when my manager asked me about working tomorrow. I told him I could only work in the morning because I had already made plans with my partner. Quickly, he stopped and focused the conversation on the fact that I said "partner". He had done this once before but not as big as he did this time.

Just like he did once before, he asked me why I refer to my boyfriend as my partner and if my boyfriend appreciated the fact that I referred to him that way and if he refers to me that way. In the spur of the moment, I just joked with him and played it off as I did with anything that he said. I guess my assistant store manager felt a bit awkward cause he glanced at me and walked away chuckling. This moment ended with my manager giving a very nervous laugh meaning it was funny that my assistant store manager reacted that way even though it shouldn't have been brought up that way, but letting me know he was just joking and sorry if he annoyed me.

I hadn't really been annoyed with him, he just made me think. It was definetly something I had thought about before. This was the second time he said this. Why did he ask? Why does he care? He doesn't care, but why would he pick on that? The main important thing was, he was right.

Why did I refer to Kyle that way? Why does Kyle do it? Why do most gay guys do this? Was it just me? Does it mean anything? I certainly didn't like referring to him that way. So why did I do it? I wouldn't do it if I were talking to any of my other coworkers that I'm friends with.

It makes me wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that they were my managers? Maybe it's just a part of a professional front that I put on when around them? The only problem with that is I'm always talking to them as if they were just my friends; it's just how our relationships are.

Maybe it could be a defense mechanism. Just like in the way that I usually tell people I'm gay by just inconspicuously sliding it into conversation. I always kind of avoid just having to bluntly say "I'm gay" by usually using the word "partner" or something like that. It usually breaks the initial reaction of wanting to pause and focus on the fact that I just said I'm gay because it kind of explains that it isn't a big deal, nor is it something that we need to focus on.

By using the word "partner," I avoid directly and bluntly outing myself by saying boyfriend. When I say boyfriend, I feel like everyone automatically think of me having sex with another guy and/or they immediately think less or something of me and that's not what I want. I don't want anyone getting that thought that now there is this barrier between us that makes us different.

But is that right? Is that fair to Kyle? More so, is that fair to me? Is it fair that I don't acknowledge Kyle with as big a name as boyfriend. Is it fair that after all the fighting and arguing that I jump back into hiding mechanisms because I was too afraid to just come out and say that I'm dating another guy that I refer to as my boyfriend? No, it is not.

I think I would even be a little offended if Kyle referred to me as his "partner" rather than his boyfriend. In certain circumstances I understand, like in the case of the elderly where you just don't want to have the argument. However, when it's in everyday normal situations, we deserve to be as open as we want to. Straight couples don't refer to each other as their partner, so why should we?

Saying "boyfriend" does not make me somehow less professional.  If anything, it should make me feel empowered. To be able to take over conversation and not show any fear, or to show that I can be me and have a boyfriend. If anyone has a problem with it, they don't have to talk to me.

I should thank my manager for bringing this to the light for me, but I don't want to give him that much credit. Let me know what you all think, should saying partner matter? What is the difference in meaning between the two?

Thanks for reading everyone. Please remember to enjoy what you have and appreciate it. Don't take what you have for granted.

~Be Breezy ~

A New Life.

Hello everyone, the last time I wrote, I was in a very bad place. Actually, the last couple posts I had been in a very bad place; a place that I escape into often. I definetly don't regret writing those posts, as they were written "in the moment" and expressed my truest feelings. Every now and again I even find myself rereading those posts as a reminder of where I am and why I still may feel the way I have been. Now, time has passed and I've decided to take a huge leap in my life. In turn, this doesn't make room for much of an escape route in my mind. Sit down everyone, as this is going to be a bumpy ride.

Everyday, I face the the events that have scared me all my life. For years I had tried to keep my biggest fear, just a fear, but now, it's a reality. This reality is something that I face in my dreams, in my relationship, in my memory, and in my house hold. I knew coming out to my parents was going to be more than just revelation; more than just a weight off my shoulders. . . It was going to be an end of an era and life as I knew it.

My parents are incredibly homophobic. It sucks, but it's true. I've known it for years and I thought I had came to accept it. I remember thinking, "They can either choose to overlook this and stay in my life, or they can choose to deny and fight this and be exiled from my life." I always expected that to be easy. For that matter, I guess I kind of hoped those were just going to be words. I had hoped that my parents would never go that far and would just realize that this isn't a big deal, but so far, they haven't. Day in and day out, this is and problem that we face everytime we look at each other. And now, this is a problem I can no longer handle.

Back in October, or November, I made the decision to move out with my boyfriend. I had decided I can't deal with the stares any more. I could no longer deal with the silence. The lectures. The pointless battles. The constriction. The thoughts. The fear. My anxiety starts here.

For weeks, I couldn't study at home because I couldn't help thinking that everytime I wasn't around, they were talking about me. I would listen close to the voices amongst the walls, patiently waiting for my name to be recited in that tone of disappointment. I would pause to hear what I was going to be lectured about next. To hear what else they didn't like about me. To hear what was next to come my way.

I couldn't take it anymore. Before, I could just leave my house and hang out with my friends and be back later when everyone was too tired, but now that wasn't even an option. My dad once said, "there's no point in being home if you're not comfortable." And that was exactly where I was at. I couldn't be around my parents. Just the aura around them was enough to consume me and eat at me. Even now I feel that aura exuding around, and it is letting me know, I am not welcome.

I always hope that me and my parents would null and void these auras and reconcile our relationship, but that just doesn't seem like it will be a reality. Today, I had one of those moments. I had off from work today and so did he. After class, we were free to hang out together, as we never are for more than 3 hours. Usually, I'd use my excuse of "I have to work today," but today, like some others, I had a ray of hope. Maybe today I didn't have to comoletely lie to my mom. Maybe I could just tell her I'm going to go to dinner with my friends and hang out for a bit beforehand! Fortunately yet unfortunately, my boyfriend brought me back to reality.

About three weeks ago, my mom even gave me trouble going to the movies after work. Granted I was going with my boyfriend, but my best friend (bro) was also going, which I informed her about. She asked me why I hadn't asked my brother, as he sometimes does go with us, and proceeded to end with, "unless you're not really going with bro." Obviously, she doesn't trust me and she still has bad blood from the passed couple months, which I carry with me as well.

What was I thinking? I was going to ruin my chance of hanging out with my boyfriend by telling her one little lie versus the believable lie? That's the hope I'm talking about. The hope where I believe that this is all over and things can go back to a very twisted version of normal. Maybe soon that'd turn into her being okay with me saying boyfriend. But unless we're being naive, chances are, that just won't happen.

I'm always thinking of where we'll end up. the other day, I was in the car with my boyfriend and his mother listening to them talk to his aunt. Cracking jokes with her and reminiscing. It hit me kind of abruptly; I don't have that anymore and I won't have that later. I've heard stories where people have come out and they've lost their relationship with their parents, but it feels much different when it's yours that's gone. I can't just walk into the kitchen and joke with my mom anymore. I won't get to introduce my family to my boyfriend as he introduced me to his. I won't be able to just call up my aunt or cousins and just have a conversation anymore because that thread is gone.

This creates a feeling of anxiety and stress on me that not many will understand, and if you don't already know how I feel about people trying to understand, let me set the record straight. . . I don't like it. Don't try to understand how I feel or relate, because you can't. So you may have an aunt that doesn't accept it. Maybe you have an uncle who turned his back. But you don't have your parents turning their back. You don't have those great memories with them, knowing that they're going to just be memories. You don't know how it feels to be disgusting in your mother and father's eyes and not wanting to be acknowledged more than a fly on the wall, so please. . . Don't try.

Move in day will be a day full of anxiety. For that matter, the week of is going to be filled with anxiety and stress. How will my parents feel about this? Will they pretend not to care and act as if they will be better off without me? Will they act as if they want me to stay? Will they fight me on leaving? Will they still want to keep a relationship with me after I leave? All these questions are ones that haunt me everyday. These are questions that make me nervous for the future.

Now to take a shift in focus, let's talk about my moving out. This is a step in my life that I hadn't intended to happen for at least a couple more years, but sometimes you've just got to take what life gives you and run with it. Although this was not something I had planned to happen for a while, I'm kind of excited that it is happening. To think, in a couple of weeks, I will be getting to decorate my own place and wake up next to the love of my life every morning and get to lie next to him every night when we go to bed. We will take turns cleaning, cooking, maybe washing clothes, etc. Soon, we'll get to do all the things we never got to do in the 10 months that we have been dating that couple would have normally done already. We'll finally get to stay in and watch movies, cook food for each other, sleep together, and shower together. I couldn't think of a better way to live other than with him.

However, this still brings me fear, anxiety, and stress. Along with this exciting adventure brings trials that I have never really had to face before. My parents had already made me pay "rent" since I was a senior in high school, so that's nothing entirely new, but now I will be paying for electricity, cable, car insurance, and groceries. Along with that, I will have to face doing my own laundry and learning how to do it well on my own.

This is a whole new world to me and it is nothing that I take lightly. This is more than just working, but also budgeting and time management. I have to assure that my job is giving me a certain amount of hours a week to afford everything. Along with that, I have to ensure I am providing myself with enough time for my school work. Now, i must take on the responsibility of doing my taxes in my own and filling out fafsa by myself. In this situation, both of them come first.

Moreover, I have to be conscious that I cannot put all my focus on those two attributes. He may not want to admit it, but I have to incorporate attention time to my boyfriend. I have to let him know how handsome he is, everyday. Let him know how much I love him, at least three times a day. Make sure I give him a hug, at least once. Do something wierd to him, constantly. Just make sure he knows that he is a main attribute to my life and that that will never change. No matter how overwhelmed I get, I must always ensure these rules.

Even right now, the anxiety trails through my head, but more in a self worth kind of way. I find it kind of hard to explain this, so I will do the best I can. In this move, I don't have much. I've accepted that most of the stuff I have, can't come with me. It almost makes me feel like an orphan with a box. You have a box full of stuff that you take with you, and that is your only memory of what you ever had.

Sadly, the best way to describe this is through comparison. My boyfriend is moving into our place with his dresser, his desk, his hutch, his car, his chairs, his tvs, and his curtains. In this move, I will be bringing my clothes. Granted, we bought stuff together, using his card.

Being that this is all new to me, I never took interest in buying couches, buying tables, rugs, etc. He took interest in all of this a while ago and was already on it. Everyday, he searched for the best deals and came to me with ideas and I just went to work and said, "I like that." This makes me feel inferior. Not only inferior, but as if I'm not contributing anything except for my side of the payments. Don't let me cut off anything, I feel as though I don't have anything.

I felt inferior because this was not something I took an interest in doing. This was something I should have been doing, too, but wasnt. I felt like I wasn't contributing anything because I never really had anything to bring to the table, and if I did, they weren't really great ideas anyways. Finally, I feel like I don't own anything because I don't. And worst of all, this should lead us to a conversation that neither of us want to have, one I am petrified to have, and if you read between the lines enough, you'll understand.

It all kind of hit me suddenly, but all I will have to my name will be the clothes I wear. Shit, if I'm lucky, I'll get my piano, too, but those will be the only things. I thought of it today while helping clean my boyfriend's car. He liked to do it himself because he takes pride in his own, meanwhile I stood there with the only things I owned.

Since we're moving in together, I shouldn't be thinking in the sense of mines, just ours, but it doesn't seem like something that is that simple to me. Like I said, this is all still brand new to me, and it will take some getting used to. All of it. The lack of ownership. The amount of responsibility. The lack of family. This was all going to be apart of my new life. Even though I'm scared shitless, I'm excited. I'm excited for the adventures that will await me and the trials that surround them. It's time to put my anxiety aside, and get ready to run full force. Ready. Set. Go.

~Be Breezy~

Mother vs. Father

Well, everyone has heard about how I've felt about my dad, so I guess it's time to write about my mom. The person I first had a connection with. The person who gave me life. The person who I'm most scared to lose. Let's dive in.

I'd have to say I'm a huge mama's boy. It's alright, I admit it! I used to hang around my mother all the time! I used to want her to come with me everywhere,  and whenever she worked too much and we would be away, I would cry and get upset because I missed her soo much. I would get out of the car to chase her back, I was constantly creating these spontaneous, crazy gifts for her for mother's day and her birthday. I'm her youngest, of course I'm a mama's boy because she held onto me the longest! That and because I'm her favorite, whether she wants to admit to it or not.

What makes her different from my dad? My dad always gave off this cold attitude. He was very inapproachable, which wasn't very inviting to me and my friends. My mom is different. She's funny, very inviting, and always has that come bug me look. I am highly sarcastic, and she understood that and would joke with it. Me, my brother, and my cousins always felt like we could just laugh and have a good time with my mother; meanwhile with my dad, he never really joked with us. If I was joking or being sarcastic about something, he'd take it seriously.

One time my mom joked about giving me a beer and she pulled out a water. He gave her a dirty look followed by a, "I was getting ready to slap you upside the head". Obviously it was a joke. But that's the kind of stuff that makes the connection with me. I don't like that I can't joke around with a person. I'm serious when I need to be, not 24/7.

My mom made it easy for us to ask her things because she didn't carry that cols attitude. When my dad said no, it felt personal. Like he was saying no specifically because he didn't like us. I know that's not why, but that's the way it felt, and when you're going to ask something, you kind of want to be let down easily. When we asked her, she would generally joke about saying no, but mean it. It would make for about little wiggle room to get a yes, but it felt more easing when she said no because when she said it, it was no to what we were asking. Plus, when I ask something, she talks to us about it. Whenever my dad talks about something, it doesn't even feel like he's talking to us. It feels like he's talking through us with all this information, which to me, half the time is irrelevant.

Modesty. Now this isn't a huge thing, but it's just something that annoys me about my dad. I know what both my parents have done for me. I know that they have done this on their own and half the time, didn't have the money for it. My dad is constantly boasting to his friends and no in front of us about how he got all this and how he is entitled. I'm the big chief around here, I'm the one who makes the law. Boy you guys don't know how good you got it! Nothing annoys me more. My mom doesn't do that. She's never constantly boasting or anything. She let's everyone admire what she's got and she keeps it pushing. Enter clapping hands emoji here.

So why did I choose to write about this? How am I relating this to being gay? My upbringing versus my coming out. My dad has said since day one that if we were grown up enough to make the decision to be gay, then we were grown up enough to be on our own. He made it very clear that he was against it and does not condone any of it. I have a gay cousin on my mother's side and he was very set on talking to him about it. He wanted to tell him he was wrong for it and it is because he grew up with all women. But he wouldn't take that out of us; we grew up with a man around. My sister used to tell me that I shouldn't even tell my dad in person because he may cause harm because of it. His entire feelings towards the matter created a bigger disconnection than anything.

I lost any interest in somebody who would only always try to change me. Since I was younger, if I had acted not manly in any sense, I was made known of it and told to stop it immediately. He made me scared to be me. I realized quickly that who I was, I couldn't admit to him. I never connected anything of what I was doing to be gay, I was just being me, which obviously my dad didn't like. So I tightened up. I created this false version of myself, which soon became me. Whenever I fell out of that tight rope of a personality, I became paranoid and would bug my friends about it.

Soon, I realized it was ok to be me. There was nothing wrong with the way I acted or the way I did things, it was my dad who had the problem. I liked who I was and who I am. I figured, if he didnt, then don't stick around me. I began to stray away from him so that he didn't have time to say anything, or he didn't have enough time to process it. He had already morphed me enough, as I grow to be the man I'm going to be, I have to like me, I don't need to care about what anyone else thinks. Naturally, this created a very thick wall between us, one I was not willing to let down.

My mom was a little bit different. She never told us that she would kick us out for being gay, but she still made it very clear that she was against it. She would say things like little faggot, or it looks faggish. She would tell us that it was ungodly and how it would never be accepted. She told me, there was no place for people like that.

My mom had this ability to hurt my feelings. Not something many people have. Most of the time, I brush off what people think about me or something else. What they said didn't affect me, and if it was about me, you were way too irrelevant to me and or your word didn't mean shit to me. But with her, ever since I was a kid, I would be upset with her because she had said something that deeply hurt me. This is no different.

She made me scared to be me because of fear of losing her. Even if she didn't kick me out, she wouldn't like me. What if she referred me to be the little faggot or everything I did to be very faggish? It would hurt. Especially coming from someone who I loved very much and didn't want to lose. I created that tight rope of a personality to keep her in my life. I figured she wouldn't like me if I was anything else. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't fun.

I remember how she would make me feel. Whenever she talked about gay people, she was disgusted. She would say that they are all diseased and they had no place. I knew not to believe her ignorant comments, but it still hurt. To think, that's what she thought of me. I remember when we were in the car one day and being gay came up somehow and I said people don't care anymore and she responded with no matter how much time passes, they will NEVER be accepted. I remember in that moment, I just wanted to jump out of the moving car right into traffic.

More than anything all I wanted was for her to continue liking me and stay in my life. I realized that if I had told her about me, she would never like me again. Recently she would talk to me about being gay and I asked her what would she do if I was and she responded with I wouldn't know what to do. Whenever my friends would ask me why aren't I out to my mom, I would relate them to my biggest fear: I'm not out to my mom because I can't deal with the reality of her not being able to look at me. Whenever I walked into the kitchen, she wouldn't utter a word to me because she wouldn't like who I was. I never felt any closer to that until that night that she told me she wouldn't know what to do. I knew it would take her time, but I myself couldn't deal with those 2-3 weeks of her not being able to look at me.

This passed weekend, I was outed to my mom by my aunt. She said She needed to know. My biggest fear was beginning to become a reality and I had no control over it.

I was planning to come out to her. Just not now. I knew if I came out to her, I would then have to tell my dad. Which again, I was not prepared for. I would have sat her down and talked to her about who I was and how I got here. How I felt so alone. How years ago I hated myself for it. How I tried nothing more than to change myself. Then how it changed me; broadened my horizons. How I became a better person because of it. What brought me here. What support groups I had. Everything.

I wanted her to be apart of my life that I had accepted. This life that I loved more than anything. I wanted to show her with how happy I was. The amount of people who didn't care. The friends I have made because of the connections. The creativity it had brought me. The love it had connected me to.

I wasn't intending her to find out that way. If anything, I would have never guessed that out of everyone, my aunt was the one who would hurt both me and my mother in this way. After all, she had a gay son who lived with her. Why would she want to hurt us both like that? To have somebody who could now understand?  I don't think so, I don't believe she's that kind of person. I believe she was just as drunk as my cousins were saying. Either way, it wasn't right for her to take that away from me. I was supposed to tell her myself. Not have my mom find out from her aunt who may have just wanted to be even.

But now I've got to deal with this,  and then soon after with my father. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, but these are the cards I have been dealt and now I've got to play them with the best strategy I can give: honesty. It's time to play the cards, let's see how they unfold.