It has been four years since I did the scariest thing in my life and finally embraced my true self and how my story was all along. Before this family dinner that involved penis shaped noodles and awkward cards against humanity. I want to give some background on myself and how I got to this point that took 23 years.
I grew up in a nice Village called Greendale just outside of Milwaukee. I have two older brothers and a twin sister. We were a middle class family that made ends meet, we had our good times and some bad times. We as a family always prevailed because of our Mother who dedicated her life so we can be successful while we grew up. My two brothers were always in sports. Of course just like my brothers I needed to participate in sports to see if I liked them and by no surprise I was horrible. I tried to catch a baseball with my eye when I was six. That was the end of baseball and I faked I had asthma during youth football because I wanted to get out of running laps. Football was a no go. I was never good at sports but thought I needed to fit this mold of what a "boy" was suppose to do at that time and what society makes us believe is acceptable. After my stint with sports I became the kid that played in the woods and made forts with the neighborhood kids and was your average kid but deep down I was living a story that was not mine and as I grew older I started to realize this.
Going through elementary school was fun for me. I loved school and at times was known as the teacher pet because I loved teachers and helping them out. Then 5th grade came along and I started to noticed that I would act differently when trying to talk to the other boys in my class. I became very nervous and would stumble over my words and look like a fool at times. I was confused because this never happened when I talked with the girls in my class. Then I started to look around at lunch one day in 5th grade and I realized I was the only boy at the girls table at lunch. I thought nothing of it. I loved getting their left over rectangle pizza because they hated it and any other food they didn't like. As I got closer to the end of 5th grade I started to get bullied. Boys would always ask me why I liked to hang with all girls and play patty cake and other hand games. I never really gave an answer back at the time besides “because its fun”.
Fast forward to seventh grade going on eighth. This is the time I started to hit puberty and my mind started to act differently. I would still suck at talking to other guys in my class but this time I started to feel differently then when I did in fifth grade. I would say things to myself like “wow, he looks good in those shorts” or “damn wish I had a that body.” These thoughts started to freak me out because that is not what guys are supposed to think when looking at other guys. I would try to blow it off as a weird stage and not how I actually am. I would tell myself “oh Dave you know you like girls, you got this Dave.” I would fight this fight until I watched Jesse McCartney’s music video Beautiful Soul. In this video he would take his shirt off and I remembered in 8th grade thinking “wow he’s cute.” At that moment I knew I was gay. That freaked me out. I was scared because that is not how I was suppose to be. I thought I would marry I nice wife and have three kids and live in a house on a hill with a white picket fence.
As I moved to high school I decided that this was not ok to be gay and I suppressed my true feels so deep down inside of me that I would try and convince myself that I was straight. I would try and watch other “straight guys” and see what they were wearing and try and dress like a “straight” guy. I would be bullied in school by students asking me if I was gay and I would snap and say hell no I would never be that. This strong denial lasted all my years in high school and into college.
When I was in college I continued to convince myself that I was straight and that was the only way my story would go. I would work out constantly because that's what “bros” did. I would have a couple of girlfriends on the way through college. One that was a serious long relationship and it ended on bad terms because I was still fighting with my true identity and how I wanted to live my life.
I had some great times in college but also I hit a very low point in which I didn't think it even mattered anymore. At that moment I looked myself in the mirror and said three words that I was dreading “I am Gay” that was the first time I had ever said those words out loud to myself and the best part was that it felt amazing. I finally opened that door that I closed shut so tightly for so long and embraced my true self. I took ownership of my real story and not the one I plagiarized and tried to make my own. I would go on and tell some of my closest friends in college and all of their responses were “Dave we already know.” I was shocked. I thought I planned this out so well and played “straight” so well. As more and more of my friends knew I struggled with who knew and who didn't know. So I decided to create a facebook post and throw it out there for everyone to see and read and make their own opinion towards it. That moment was terrifying for me. I was scared I would lose friends but I kept reminding myself that this is my story and only I can write it. If people didn’t understand and went their other way then that was their choice. I could not let myself be stopped because of what people thought. This is me and was always me so take it or leave it.
After most of my friends knew that I was gay it was time to plan something in which I could let my whole family know. One night after a brewers game I was in a bar with my brother and his girlfriend. I was getting a drink and let's call her Lisa my brothers girlfriend was standing behind me. She started to talk to me as I was ordering a drink and ask “Hey Dave, are you gay?” Since I had a few drinks and was preoccupied by the bartender I quickly turned around and said “yeah! So what?” Then I instantly realized that she was part of my family and they didn't know yet. I asked her to not tell anyone because I wasn’t ready. Lisa was amazing she stated that she knew already but would keep my secret but said she was hosting a dinner that Sunday and that she could buy penis noodles and make a pasta salad for the dinner and see if anyone noticed. At that moment my worriedness went away and I was thinking that would be so funny and a great way to crack the awkwardness of this whole dinner, it was a go. I was actually going to do this and finally be me.
It was the day of the dinner and as we drove to her house I was worried sick and looked sick. My Mom even asked “Dave are you ok?” I told her “yeah just a little tired”. When we arrived Lisa ran out and gave me the biggest hug, but had some bad news. My brother was cooking the penis noodles (unknowingly) and over cooked them so they fell apart. Funny aspect was shot so now it all fell on me and I was even more sick to my stomach. We sat down for dinner and had a great time. Great food and conversation was happening and for a moment I forgot what I was about to do.
After dessert, we played cards against humanity and I realized that it was almost time for me to tell them my true story and who I am and I was freaking out. As we played cards against humanity I was thinking to myself that today wasn’t the day and I was not going to go through with it. Then I picked up my cards and this is what each card said. Card 1: Gay men Card 2: Gay sex Card 4:Gay Parties. At that moment I laughed to myself and then did the unthinkable. I leaned forward and started to talk. I couldn't believe what was happening I was telling myself to stop talking but I continued. I said “I have to say something everyone, This dinner was set up by Lisa and I because you were all invited to my coming out party…..I’m Gay.” I sat there and looked at everyone. There was an awkward pause and then my Mom leaned forward and said “AND?!?!” I looked at her confused and said what Mom all you have to say is and?. My Mom looked at me and said Dave I knew since you were six and I still love you nothing will change that. I started to cry because all the weight was lifted off my shoulders. All my brothers and twin sister were very supportive and showing their love towards me at this time. I felt so relieved I was now able to turn the chapter in my story and now start the new beginning and finally be my true self.
Nothing is ever as it seems, but in the end it all will make sense. This statement is one I try to remember each and every day. So far my life (27 years young) has been filled with great happiness and some sadness.
Someone once told me, “Everything will be okay, I promise!” and regardless of what he was, who he was, or how he treated me, I would have to agree with him. There are things in our lives that seem like they never will get better. Events we think we will never overcome or, that we'll never believe in ourselves again. People who are always willing to put you down at any given moment in life. People we try to steer away from, but always seem to find their way back into our lives to put us down. These things, I promise you, will get better. They will make you stronger. They will help you grow into a better human being. But most of all, these things will make you learn how to love yourself again.
My story, along with others, is unique but different in the same light. To give you context around mine, here is a little about me growing into my own.
I was raised by a hard working blue collar family in a factory city in Wisconsin; Father a factory worker since graduating high school and mother with her associates degree working in an eye doctors office. I was fortunate enough to be raised by both parents, who are still married and by far the cutest couple (bias, I know). I grew up eating, breathing and sleeping sports but my passion was in soccer. My parents did everything they could to raise money for me to go to the Milwaukee Wave soccer camp every year. If you grew up in the 1990s in Wisconsin, you will know how cool it was to meet these great soccer players at the age of 8. If I wasn’t playing soccer, my family was traveling to northern Wisconsin where we would go boating, tubing, fishing, and roast marshmallows over the campfire. It was around the age of 12 I started to realize I was different than all the other kids. But growing up Christian, I knew from church it wasn’t okay to be gay or have these feelings.
But amidst these happy times came some gloom. When I was in the first grade I was sexually assaulted, and this would forever change the dynamic of my life and the way I thought of myself.
Throughout my middle school days, I was the kid who loved Student Council and leadership camps. The one who was always afraid of showing up late to class and disappointing my parents, teachers, and family members. To me, I was your normal Wisconsin kid. One who tried their hardest in school, played sports, and loved hunting, fishing, and being in the woods. You could say I grew up in the “masc” world. I looked up to men who were kind, hard-working, chivalrous, and overall fun to be around. These handful of men have molded a part of me and who I aspired to be when I grew up. However, these men are entitled to their own opinion, and in that, there was some chauvinistic rhetoric that came along. Hearing this hatred of a fellow human, where I have secretly placed myself in the gay category since I was 12, was hard to swallow. How could someone who is so kind and helpful be so hateful? Instead of growing farther apart from these men, I grew closer to them in the hopes if I act like them, these feelings of being gay would dissipate or go away. Rather I had more questions than ever. Why was it okay for two women to kiss but not two men? Why would God create someone who he didn’t love? Why would we treat one act of sin different from the others?
After middle school, high school was a bigger challenge. High school is a place where adolescents are finding themselves but sometimes at the expense of others. Yes, I’ve been bullied, been an outcast, hazed because others thought of me to be different or gay. But thinking back it wasn’t all too bad. It may sound bad, but like I mentioned before,
“Everything will be okay, I promise."
For me, I found my safety in work. Whether it be with my job outside of school, managing the school store, competing in business clubs, or spending time with my family at the cabin, my family and friends were very proud of what I have done but there was always a missing piece. I knew what this missing piece was, but I couldn’t come to terms with what it was. I wasn’t gay, I liked doing “masculine” things like hunting, fishing, and playing sports – stereotypically straight activities. I volunteered at church, went on service projects to help rebuild homes for the less fortunate, didn’t have anyone in my family that was gay. This couldn’t be me – or was it? Was something wrong with me? Was it because of the sexual abuse when I was younger…Yes, that had to be it. It was the only thing at the time to explain these feelings I was having. Again, I pushed these feelings deep down and worked through the “confusion”.
High school passed with a few girlfriends – that all ended a few months after they started. Then came college.
For some, college is a time for exploration and self-identification. The first two years, I continued to trap myself into thinking I wasn’t gay. Once I was a junior, I started to live a double life for the next three years. I was coming to realize who I was and started to live that way… but behind closed doors. It wasn’t until I hit a mental breaking point due to a secret fling that became mentally abusive that I decided I didn’t care what others thought and I came out for the first time to my best friend from college. Which brings me to my first short story.
The funny part of how I came out was how it came about. At the time, I was living in Madison and my best friend from college was in Milwaukee. On a Saturday night, I had set up a Tinder date with a female in Milwaukee, which as you can imagine didn’t work out. It was after dinner and I texted my buddy and told him I was in town. It is important to note he is gay as well. He told me to stop on over as he was at his friend's aunt's place for a dinner party. I walked over and he introduced me to his friend and we chatted over a few bottles of wine. It was getting late and both wanted to get to bed, but something weird was happening. Not sure if it was the failed Tinder date, the bottle of wine, or just me sick of keeping this secret. I told him we should grab a drink and catch up. He agreed and off we went to the nearest bar in the third ward. Palms sweaty, heart pounding and the fear of rejection – though in retrospect he was gay, too. Why would he reject me or not be happy for me? We sat down at a table not far off from the bar. It was loud, and the wine was hitting us both hard, but the conversation went something like this:
Me: “So, I have something I want to tell you?”
Him: “Okay… like?”
Me: “Well, it is kinda hard for me to say it so I guess it’s easier to show you.”
Him: “LOL Okay.”
I grabbed my phone and pulled up a picture of my crush, still to this day, Ben Cohen. And just to clarify, the rugby player, not the businessman – just in case you Google him. Again, in retrospect, I don’t know why I thought showing a picture would be easier compared to texting it or whispering it.
With the picture of Ben on my phone, I slid it across the table while half covering it up thinking someone behind me would see a professional photo of Ben and assume I’m gay… But I was about to tell my best friend just that: “I’m gay."
Him: “Whaaa, really? You’re gay… OMG this is awesome. Wait, have you told anyone else?”
Me: “No, you’re the first person I told.”
In an instant, I could feel the weight lift off my shoulders. The fact I told only one person and I wasn’t rejected or cursed at felt amazing. All my worst fears were all for naught. It felt better than a brand new pair of socks, ice cream on a hot day, or winning $200 on a scratch off.
Him: “Wow, well I’m truly honored and happy you felt comfortable to tell me. Wait, have you ever been to a gay bar?
Me: “Yes, but not with friends.”
Him: “Okay, we are leaving and going to one right now.”
As we sat at the bar catching up and reliving our college days I couldn’t help but think,
even though this gay bar wasn’t packed with people, it was packed with acceptance and I was with my best friend who loved me inside and out.
I didn’t have a conscious interest in women until my sophomore year in college. Looking back now, it’s clear to me that I had been interested in both men and women growing up, but I simply leaned toward the more socially acceptable match-up in my younger years.
My first girlfriend was actually my “Big Sister” in my sorority. Somehow, we cautiously courted each other and ended up confessing a mutual interest in one another. We didn’t tell anyone. We dated for over a year – no labels, no public admission. Eventually, she broke up with me. She didn’t think that her parents would support her decision to date a woman. She supplemented her reasoning by claiming that she wasn’t actually interested in women at all, saying that she always wanted that white picket fence, American family dream; I obviously couldn’t be a part of that.
Despite being crushed, we both tried to infuse some platonic normalcy into our redefined relationship. I started seeing a guy that I met through Greek Life. No matter what we did, however, my ex-girlfriend and I just couldn’t seem to re-establish a healthy friendship. She became jealous, manipulative, and emotionally and physically abusive. I felt completely and unavoidably stuck. All of the friends that I had before I started dating her weren’t really talking to me anymore; from their perspective, I had found a new best friend, and I refused to share that part of my life with them. Even if I thought I could turn to one of them for support, I didn’t feel like it was my place to out someone else.
Everything was building up and up, my emotional stress accumulating, until I just broke down and left campus.
I drove back home to my parents’ house. I was on autopilot. I wasn’t even really sure what I was going to say, but I was quickly losing my grasp on my sanity and my mental health, and I desperately needed someone to talk to. I opened up to my mom first; she had always wanted me to share more of my life with her, when I was growing up. I thought if anything she’d be happy that I was finally talking to her about something real. I was lucky. Her acceptance and support was the lifeline that I needed. I asked her to talk to my dad for me, because I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him one-on-one. He was just as understanding. At that moment, it was crazy to think that I had prolonged my own despair and isolation, because I had been too afraid to share that part of me with anyone. I had been consumed by “what if” scenarios, that I would play over in my head. As I said, I was lucky to be able to rely on my parents; but after feeling that enormous sense of relief, I realized that reaching out to anyone who might have been supportive – even a stranger – would have helped save me. Now, I can confidently say that I would rather openly be myself, than pretend to be someone else that people might have an easier time accepting.
It’s so easy to feel stuck and to let yourself live there, because at least it’s familiar territory. We think it’s safer than the unknown. I know it’s stereotypical, but coming out was like ripping off a Band-Aid. It had the potential to feel horrible in the moment, but deep down I knew that it would also allow me to properly heal.
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