Role Models

One reason I feel so lousy about hiding my sexuality (from my homophobic friends and others) is I owe a great big debt. The mere presence of other gay people in my life has gone a long way to help me accept myself. Yet I am too chicken to pay that favor forward by coming out of the closet myself.

You see, for years I thought that being gay would lead to a life of flamboyant debauchery. I did not like the casual sex, the materialism, the shallow emphasis on genitals and bare bottoms that I read in those gay newspapers I snuck into my backpack. I did not identify with the culture. For the most part, I still don't.

And I felt totally, utterly alone. I knew gay people existed in my community -- our little town has gay support groups and gay bars and such -- but I was too shy and closeted to seek them out. I worried that I was the only prudish repressed gay person in the world.

But then -- slowly, slowly -- people in my community helped me see things differently. I glimpsed a couple of men whom I thought were walking hand-in-hand. I later confirmed this when I saw them clasp hands as they walked to work. Furthermore, (and this is important) I found them attractive. The idea that two men could feel safe enough to hold hands in public was a big revelation. The idea that men I found attractive could find boyfriends offered further comfort. It is possible that I had set off their gaydar and they were putting on a show for me, but I doubt that was the case. They comforted a prudish self-hating gay just by being themselves.

And then there's the story of persons A and B. I probably shouldn't tell it because they both have livejournals and will likely discover my identity sooner or later. Furthermore, I know they don't like being perceived as the poster-people for inoffensive middle-class homosexuality. Nonetheless, I feel compelled to say "thank you" by telling their story.

I met A and B independently -- A through my volunteer work and B at my workplace. Neither registered more than a faint blip on my gaydar screen (but my gaydar has always been defective). I just knew them as fairly friendly, super-competent people. Naturally, I had no idea they knew each other.

You know where this is going, so I'll jump to the punchline. One morning at the Farmer's Market I saw them both together. They both said hello. I said hello back. As I walked home, my mind churned. Could it be? It couldn't be. Could it be? I had no concrete evidence. Could it be? Could it be?

As it turned out it was, but I did not find out until later. Even the circumstantial evidence was enough to fry my brain.

Since then, I have observed and learned. A and B are certifiably gay -- they vacation at gay tourist traps and decorate their houses tastefully and sing in choirs -- but they are socially conscious and friendly and successful and pretty normal. Everybody likes them and gets along with them. They don't go pushing their sexuality in other people's faces, but don't go to great lengths to conceal it either. And they have been together for nine years, in what appears to be a mostly monogamous relationship (although I could be wrong, and it's not my business, really). They really are the poster-people for inoffensive middle-class homosexuality. Although they cringe at that label I have found their lives inspiring and comforting.

Again, they have supported me indirectly, simply by being who they are and living their lives. I have not come out to them, and if they suspect my sexuality (which is entirely probably) they have not said anything. I could begin repaying the karmic debt I owe them by outing myself and serving as a role model for others. I know I am not much of a role-model, but standing up and being counted is clearly the correct action to take.

And yet, I don't.

Livejournal URL: http://lonelyache.livejournal.com/2478.html

Mood: Not specified

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