Too frequently I’m asked when I became gay. It’s kind of a silly question, unless you don’t believe people are born gay, which is pretty silly of its own. I mean, I had a hard enough time feeling different, the last thing I needed was one more thing. A better question I’m asked is “when did you first know you were gay?” Now, I have no problem with that question. My answer to it is always the same…”When didn’t I know?” I guess you could say I was sexually precocious.
Being the youngest in the family, my sisters are 15 years older than me. I was admiring their boyfriends when I was about 7 or 8. I had no idea why, I just knew I didn’t want to feel that way. I knew my family would think it was wrong, so I made sure no one saw me looking. Later, I figured out that looking at men wasn’t wrong. It was, in fact, an incredibly fun sport. But we’ll get to that.
I never felt comfortable around the boys in my neighborhood. I rarely played with them. But, I played with the girls all the time and sometimes with their dolls. (Here I was being different again.) It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say the boys scared me. They sometimes seemed mean and I’m not referring to me, but mean in general. They also played sports which was definitely not something I was the least bit interested in. I did, however, do basketball camp twice and did pretty well. Thankfully I was better at shooting than dribbling.
One day I did hang out with two boys, Aaron and Michael and Michael pulled out one his fathers Playboy magazines. They were oohing and aahing over the pictures, while I was completely bored. Of course, I couldn’t let them know that, so I had to act all googly eyed about it too. Ok, Ok, I’ll admit, I wasn’t bored. I was disgusted.
When I reached my preteens I started to have a better understanding of what I was feeling. I had more boy friends. This was the time that lust started showing it’s head. Now, I really knew hated what I was feeling. What do I do about it? What if someone found out? I wanted to touch the other boys. When I did, such as when we were playing around, I would feel a tingle through my body. I don’t remember feeling it was wrong, but it scared me. I was scared of how people would react, of getting hurt. The last thing I needed was to be even more different than I was. I didn’t want to be more of an outsider. I hated having the feelings I did.
After elementary school my family moved to the good ‘ol boys state of North Carolina. You’d have expected this to be absolute hell for me, but most of all it wasn’t. I’ll keep you on the edge of your seat until tomorrow for the nail biting conclusion.