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Out of the closet, still holding the doors
- Thread starter Liveonce
- Start date
paatreides
Sex God
Welcome to being a person without a stereotypical label!
People assume I'm straight all the time.
It's getting to a point where I'm going to start watching gay porn on a smartphone and masturbating in public.
But you're so str8 they'd think you were masturbating to str8 porn I'm sure. LOL! Gotta love the poor, self afflicted, too str8 for society boys. Oh the torture it must be. I wouldn't wish that on my best fag hag.
I went through a similar experience even before I came out. I thought that for me to be able to get a relationship, be open and out, and honest with myself I would have to "act gay". In reality, you just need to be yourself. Being gay doesn't mean you have to like pink and dance to Lady Gaga. Being gay just means you like guys. So just be yourself! I wouldn't say you've got one foot in the closet and one foot out or anything like that, you're just being yourself. Haha, you're being gay the best damn way you know how!
TX-Beau
FEAR THE LIBERAL DETENTE!
There are a lot of guys who come in here and say that – a whole lot. Judging from that alone - one would think that there were no gay guys who fit the stereotype. These guys are also usually convinced that they’re so damn butch that no one would ever guess.
Back when I was freshly out, back in college, I knew this gay guy from a biology lab. He’s the guy who took me to my first gay club.
So I remember getting out of the car in the parking lot that night, riding that line between fear and anticipation, kinda freaked, because Kevin, the college guy I knew, was dressed up like a fag. Tight t-shirt – neon blue, way too tight jeans, gushing with this guy I didn’t know, just really, really, gay. He wasn’t like that in class; he wasn’t like that when we were hanging out. It freaked me out when he picked me up and I nearly bailed at the door.
I was extremely apprehensive about the gay club in the first place, and I didn’t really want to be seen with the two of them on top of that. So, I did what I usually did back then when I hit a situation that I didn’t want to deal with. I spent most of the night at the upstairs bar doing tequila shots. Kevin – to his credit didn’t abandon me, even though I was being very anti-social, and probably borderline rude.
I sat there, getting progressively drunker, not liking the music, not liking the chatter, not liking the guys, congratulating myself for being so damn butch, and pitying myself in my little drunken bubble, that there were no gay guys just like me. Hell, most of my life I’d spent as a Texas Redneck trying my level best to live up to that standard of masculinity.
The “scene,” definitely wasn’t for me.
So on the way home, I’m drunk, and trying to explain this to Kevin, not really thinking about what’s coming out of my mouth, and probably offending the both of them pretty badly – because that’s what you do when you tell gay guys that you’re just too butch for gaydom and the “scene,” is nothing more than a ‘phobic stereotype.
Anyway, Kevin, again to his credit, told me basically that the reason I didn’t fit in with all the other gay men, was because I didn’t fit in my own skin. He wasn’t that nice about it though.
Of course, life is not prone to epiphany, so it took me a few years before that lesson hit home.
Do you see what it is?
I didn’t know any of the guys in that club – I didn’t know who they were, what they were like, why they were there, if they were even gay or not, I didn’t know Kevin’s friend, I didn’t really know Kevin as a gay man. All I knew was that it was all associated with gayness. That Gay Club could have been filled with the butchest tax accountants ever to have lived in a grey suit, and I still would have felt the same. Because what I was reacting to, wasn’t the people, it wasn’t the “scene,” it was the idea that somehow I was a part of the whole gay thing.
After all, I was a Texas Redneck, with a shotgun and a big ass truck, and while I was fine – finally, admitting to myself that I liked cock, even to the point of telling other people, I still didn’t want to be a “gay,” man.
There are all kinds of gay guys, frankly there are more like you than there are Drag Queens, if you can’t fit in to that somewhere, the problem is probably not them. I guarantee you there are plenty of gay guys with far more boring clothes that you have.
Coming out is a process and a journey, telling people the first step, but that doesn’t mean all those years of negative ‘phobic stereotype living in your head disappear overnight, it doesn't mean that all those issues about yourself and fears about your masculinity immediately vanish. Eventually, just like me, you’ll find that the more comfortable you get with yourself, the more friends just like you you’ll find – out there in the “scene.”
Back when I was freshly out, back in college, I knew this gay guy from a biology lab. He’s the guy who took me to my first gay club.
So I remember getting out of the car in the parking lot that night, riding that line between fear and anticipation, kinda freaked, because Kevin, the college guy I knew, was dressed up like a fag. Tight t-shirt – neon blue, way too tight jeans, gushing with this guy I didn’t know, just really, really, gay. He wasn’t like that in class; he wasn’t like that when we were hanging out. It freaked me out when he picked me up and I nearly bailed at the door.
I was extremely apprehensive about the gay club in the first place, and I didn’t really want to be seen with the two of them on top of that. So, I did what I usually did back then when I hit a situation that I didn’t want to deal with. I spent most of the night at the upstairs bar doing tequila shots. Kevin – to his credit didn’t abandon me, even though I was being very anti-social, and probably borderline rude.
I sat there, getting progressively drunker, not liking the music, not liking the chatter, not liking the guys, congratulating myself for being so damn butch, and pitying myself in my little drunken bubble, that there were no gay guys just like me. Hell, most of my life I’d spent as a Texas Redneck trying my level best to live up to that standard of masculinity.
The “scene,” definitely wasn’t for me.
So on the way home, I’m drunk, and trying to explain this to Kevin, not really thinking about what’s coming out of my mouth, and probably offending the both of them pretty badly – because that’s what you do when you tell gay guys that you’re just too butch for gaydom and the “scene,” is nothing more than a ‘phobic stereotype.
Anyway, Kevin, again to his credit, told me basically that the reason I didn’t fit in with all the other gay men, was because I didn’t fit in my own skin. He wasn’t that nice about it though.
Of course, life is not prone to epiphany, so it took me a few years before that lesson hit home.
Do you see what it is?
I didn’t know any of the guys in that club – I didn’t know who they were, what they were like, why they were there, if they were even gay or not, I didn’t know Kevin’s friend, I didn’t really know Kevin as a gay man. All I knew was that it was all associated with gayness. That Gay Club could have been filled with the butchest tax accountants ever to have lived in a grey suit, and I still would have felt the same. Because what I was reacting to, wasn’t the people, it wasn’t the “scene,” it was the idea that somehow I was a part of the whole gay thing.
After all, I was a Texas Redneck, with a shotgun and a big ass truck, and while I was fine – finally, admitting to myself that I liked cock, even to the point of telling other people, I still didn’t want to be a “gay,” man.
There are all kinds of gay guys, frankly there are more like you than there are Drag Queens, if you can’t fit in to that somewhere, the problem is probably not them. I guarantee you there are plenty of gay guys with far more boring clothes that you have.
Coming out is a process and a journey, telling people the first step, but that doesn’t mean all those years of negative ‘phobic stereotype living in your head disappear overnight, it doesn't mean that all those issues about yourself and fears about your masculinity immediately vanish. Eventually, just like me, you’ll find that the more comfortable you get with yourself, the more friends just like you you’ll find – out there in the “scene.”
TX-Beau
FEAR THE LIBERAL DETENTE!
Sure, I would have said the exact same thing - back then.
Gay men who are really comfortable generally don't feel the need to go around making random comments about how butch they are.
Why would anyone care?
Gay men who are really comfortable generally don't feel the need to go around making random comments about how butch they are.
Why would anyone care?
Hey there.
My internet modem died a while back but I did not realise that the thread has taken a life of its own in the meanwhile haha.....
Thanks for all your input so far. While I can't say that I had a epiphany through your suggestions, it is welcoming to know that we're all somehow in the same boat in one way or another, past or present.
Mardi Gras is on in Sydney in a month. I think I'll just assume that everyone there is looking for a bit of loving. And yes, the white collar shirt will stay.
Can't wait.
My internet modem died a while back but I did not realise that the thread has taken a life of its own in the meanwhile haha.....
Thanks for all your input so far. While I can't say that I had a epiphany through your suggestions, it is welcoming to know that we're all somehow in the same boat in one way or another, past or present.
Mardi Gras is on in Sydney in a month. I think I'll just assume that everyone there is looking for a bit of loving. And yes, the white collar shirt will stay.
Can't wait.