Yeah, but he's not family and he's not my fiancee. It shouldn't be such a big deal. The atmosphere shouldn't change. It wasn't technically a big deal but knowing he's narrow minded makes it a bigger deal for me.
I'm not hiding things anymore but I don't feel like it will be possible for me to share things either. It's not all about him. I'm trying hard to be content with the fact I'm gay. So I try to go to gay clubs/bars (and freeze), try to meet guys, try to come out... but nothing feels normal. Nothing helps me to make a real step forward.
Of course the atmosphere changed! In impact, unless he'd figured it out already, it's like he's had this Porsche, then one day when he opens the hood... there's the engine from a VW bug. It's a shock.
Be open-minded about him being narrow-minded. First, he might not be; second, people change; third, friends can overcome that. My best buddy knew who/what I was before I did, but he's 'way up there on the narrow-minded scale: he moved to where gays get lynched, blacks chased away, Hispanics "encouraged" to "move along", Orientals treated worse than stray dogs -- and he loves it there. And in the two-plus years I've been out, he's gotten to where he can make jokes about me finding a guy cute... or once, when I texted him that I had to go to a job, he sent back, "U haf2 go do a blow job?"
Be thankful, too. Most of my friends and acquaintances, I never told -- word just spread. Now in my home town almost all of those people walk by me like I don't exist. It took me a while to realize that the ones who stuck are treasures -- so in a couple of weeks, when he's still around, tell him you appreciate him immensely, because he might have just left, and he didn't. Buy him coffee, or a beer, or a burger, or whatever, and tell him he's showed he's a real friend.
I know; in that situation a couple of weeks can sound like forever. You'll be suffering doubts, confusion, anxiety, when you wanted freedom, a lighter heart, and even joy. But I can tell you: it will come.
I was out for months, almost every former friend and acquaintance lost, almost my whole family having dissed me and walked out when I went to my mom's for Christmas, making myself go to gay bars and events out of sheer determination, before I even felt like any of that was okay. I can still remember the moment when I felt welcome, like it was not just okay to be going to a gay bar but it was my right, and my right to enjoy it as much as to enjoy diving into the face of a breaking wave or kicking back at the library to check out a good book or trying to put five rounds in a one-inch circle from fifty yards or build a snowman with two heads... or anything ordinary to weird. I can remember the "Live with it!" moment when I switched from being nervous and uncertain about what people thought to knowing it wasn't my problem, but theirs.
I'd never thought those moments would come. They did.
Heck, I never thought I'd reach the point of thinking the word "date" in connection with a guy without feeling guilty! It did.
And I never thought I'd manage to think that one guy calling another guy "boyfriend" was just fine. It did.
I most definitely never thought I reach the point of connecting myself with the word "boyfriend", as in, "I'd like to have a boyfriend", and especially not "I think he'd make a great boyfriend". But those came, too.
I'm not suggesting your path will lie along that same sort of route, in specifics. But it already lies along that sort of path, in themes: you will expect some things, and agonize over them not happening. You won't expect some things, and will agonize -- or delight! -- that they come and catch you by surprise. You will have hopes that nearly die because fulfillment is so long delayed. But the transformations
will come, the freedom
will bubble up, the joy
will ambush you.
You know, the atmosphere changes all the time, around you. The difference is that it changes gradually, in ways you've become comfortable with. This is no gradual change, but getting comfortable with it, on your part and on friends' parts, has to be gradual. Sure, some people will go through the shock in a few seconds, some overnight, but many will take longer. Some will grow a bit distant, others will grow closer, others will just keep along as before.
But the thing is to honor yourself. Don't retreat. It's said that change comes from within, but so does steadfastness, what Mark Twain (IIRC) called "stick-to-it-iveness". You've stood up for yourself -- be steadfast. You declared a part of your identity -- stick to it. Own yourself (no one else does unless you let them), and don't back off and return to the games from before.
Stick to going to the gay bars and stuff, too. Once upon a time, going off to school every day didn't feel normal, either. But as you kept doing it, that feeling changed. If you're not having any luck meeting guys, don't sweat it or stress; at this point, be proud of yourself for being out there where guys can meet you; be proud of claiming territory that you have a right to claim.
It might even help to drop by a gay bar for simpler things, too -- have lunch, grab a snack, just go and have a drink and sit there and think to yourself, "I belong here. I have every right to be here. I have every right to be me."
And when your friend senses that confidence, and that you're not going to treat him differently, odds are -- especially if you're college age or so, which I'm guessing is the case -- he'll return to feeling comfortable with you.
Those
are steps forward, feel them or not. Hang tough, and the feelings will catch up.
The relief comes in not having to hide things anymore. You don't have to pretend to ogle girls, or play "pronoun games" when you've started seeing "someone" (rather than "a guy"). 
