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So I've known I was gay for years know. I screwed around with one guy, then another, 8 years ago. After that I went back to thinking I liked women, except then I liked women and men more, then I only liked women and men, then I liked just men, then I only liked just men, and so it became pretty obvious to me.
It never really bothered me. I've always held that there's nothing wrong with me for being gay, but rather there's something deeply wrong with a lot of other people that keeps them from accepting it, probably rooted in the demonstrated tendency of humans to cling to damn stupid ideas just because it's what they believed in the first place.
But I stayed in the closet. The first guy turned out to be gay, and skeevy, but I rebuffed his renewed advances by saying I was confused and/or asexual. Guy two turned out to be straight, and his family are republicans, so we never ever speak of it either.
My parents pried it out of my I think when I was in 7th grade. Since at the time I had no life, the few other people I told were my friends from gaming, who lived in other countries and had no idea who I really was. Then in HS I told one girl, then another, then another.
Of late, the number of people who know has been increasing exponentially--less close friends, my brother, an old teacher (who is awesome and changed my life) one of my friends' roomates, etc. Two days ago a girl I hardly knew disclosed that we were out on a date, and that she had already been telling her family I was her boyfriend. So I had to tell her, and then I had to let her cry on my shoulder for 2 hours. I've seen her in class maybe 4 times, and that was the first time I'd hung out with her outside of classes. She said she won't tell anyone other than her parents, though I don't think they need to know either, which I told her, but I don't trust her to keep quiet. Plus my best friend told someone without my permission. Truthfully the circumstances were silly since just about everyone else in the room at the time knew, and I can't actually get mad at her because I love her more than anyone else in the world.
The problem is that first, the more people I come out to (or am outed to, as the case may be) the more I find myself wanting to take back more and more confessions. I still resent my parents for the way it happened--mom stood in the doorway and said I couldn't leave until I told her what was wrong. They are pretty supportive, certainly not homophobic at all, but a little discouraging because mom realistically points out that there's a whole extra set of problems associated with being a gay guy. Plus I've become rather flamboyant, which I don't like at all, and I've become very emotional, which I also don't like.
But the more I wish I was less out, the more I also start to resent the fact that I'm gay. And I don't get why. I do view it as stemming from a biological malfunction, but I also don't view that as being a bad thing. I'm a soulless bastard so I don't think reproduction matters, and I think love is love, and everyone can cheat regardless of how they mix genitals in bed. In some ways I think we're better than everyone else (though I know that can't be true) yet I feel unsafe, like I can't have a relationship, and like it's not so good that I'm gay.
Why?
It never really bothered me. I've always held that there's nothing wrong with me for being gay, but rather there's something deeply wrong with a lot of other people that keeps them from accepting it, probably rooted in the demonstrated tendency of humans to cling to damn stupid ideas just because it's what they believed in the first place.
But I stayed in the closet. The first guy turned out to be gay, and skeevy, but I rebuffed his renewed advances by saying I was confused and/or asexual. Guy two turned out to be straight, and his family are republicans, so we never ever speak of it either.
My parents pried it out of my I think when I was in 7th grade. Since at the time I had no life, the few other people I told were my friends from gaming, who lived in other countries and had no idea who I really was. Then in HS I told one girl, then another, then another.
Of late, the number of people who know has been increasing exponentially--less close friends, my brother, an old teacher (who is awesome and changed my life) one of my friends' roomates, etc. Two days ago a girl I hardly knew disclosed that we were out on a date, and that she had already been telling her family I was her boyfriend. So I had to tell her, and then I had to let her cry on my shoulder for 2 hours. I've seen her in class maybe 4 times, and that was the first time I'd hung out with her outside of classes. She said she won't tell anyone other than her parents, though I don't think they need to know either, which I told her, but I don't trust her to keep quiet. Plus my best friend told someone without my permission. Truthfully the circumstances were silly since just about everyone else in the room at the time knew, and I can't actually get mad at her because I love her more than anyone else in the world.
The problem is that first, the more people I come out to (or am outed to, as the case may be) the more I find myself wanting to take back more and more confessions. I still resent my parents for the way it happened--mom stood in the doorway and said I couldn't leave until I told her what was wrong. They are pretty supportive, certainly not homophobic at all, but a little discouraging because mom realistically points out that there's a whole extra set of problems associated with being a gay guy. Plus I've become rather flamboyant, which I don't like at all, and I've become very emotional, which I also don't like.
But the more I wish I was less out, the more I also start to resent the fact that I'm gay. And I don't get why. I do view it as stemming from a biological malfunction, but I also don't view that as being a bad thing. I'm a soulless bastard so I don't think reproduction matters, and I think love is love, and everyone can cheat regardless of how they mix genitals in bed. In some ways I think we're better than everyone else (though I know that can't be true) yet I feel unsafe, like I can't have a relationship, and like it's not so good that I'm gay.
Why?









