Metaphorical Closets

No Harm Done

My name is Scott Richard Hoying. I am socially awkward. I'm the quiet guy who sits at the bar top and drinks and hopes someone will come talk to me. (Uh oh. I just ratted myself out. I'm not twenty-one and I'm at a bar. You do the math.) I'm also the one who shies away from conversations at the bar top and runs people away. I'm the one who won't speak in a group conversation. I'm a follower. I won't come out with my own ideas. I'm the one who was too shy to admit that I was gay. I'm also the socialite. I'm the guy who will find my other self in the room and bring out the best in them. I'll talk to anyone and everyone. I'm the life of the party. I'm the wild dancer without a care. I'm the singer who is daring enough to sing any tune, and I'll even sing a duet with you if you want. I'm also the guy who will tell you that you shouldn't be ashamed of your sexuality. I'm not bipolar. There are just two sides to me.

Believe me when I say that it was unbelievably hard to mesh these two selves together. I was one person before a few shots. Before a few shots I was Scott. After a few shots I was Scott! I was the version of myself that I aspired to be. One of my biggest insecurities was acceptance. I always feared that people knew my history with my family. As I've mentioned before, I was kicked out at age thirteen. I'd barely begun to step into manhood when my parents felt it necessary to disown me. We were so close a few days before I confronted them about my sexuality. This caused me to have to grow up so fast that I missed the other half of my childhood. I thought it would be okay when I crossed over into high school. The teasing would stop. No one would judge me for looking a little run down. Kyle did all he could to protect me. He became my sole provider, and he was only nineteen. Why people felt the need to bash me for that was beside me at that point. Now I look back at it and laugh. The reason why I found myself at the bar often was to get with a different crowd. The sad part about it was that I'd never make it with this different crowd until I got drunk. My brother accepted that I did this. He knew everything about me. He understood my rebellion, if that was even considered rebellion. His only wish is that I didn't go home with anyone. I never did. I obeyed him. I respected him, because he respected me.

Why I could never connect with this new crowd on a sober level gets to me to this day. I relied on inebriation to become the me who I wanted to be. It only took me so long to realize that I was insecure that people wouldn't like me for being gay. My parents didn't. As soon as I confronted the crowd I typically hung out with that I was gay they just laughed and carried on. They agreed that it was assumed all along, and they didn't treat me any different. That version of me rubbed off on the old version, and the shots condensed.

Finding the version of me that I was comfortable with was difficult. I found it in the people that surrounded me. I found it in Kyle, the supportive role model. I found it in Mr. Johnson, my English teacher who persuaded me to begin this book. I found it in my parents leaving me high and dry, for if they hadn't done it, I wouldn't be here to share this amazing experience. If they'd approach me now, I would forgive them. Everyone deserves forgiveness, even those who have wronged you.

excerpt from Metaphorical Closets by Scott Hoying

-.-.-.-

Scott

I often find myself reflecting on my past quite a bit. It wasn't a depressing reflection. It was a contemplative reflection. It's why I chose to write about my life. I honestly had never planned on making it public. Essentially all I did was I wrote stories to my future self on how I got to where I am, or was. It was a hell of a ride, but I lived to tell the tale.

It's been two nights since the night with Mitch at Beso and afterwards for Tori's show. It was absolutely fantastic, but I'm being mysterious and waiting three days before I call because, well, why not? I feel like I won't last another day, but I'm trying. I'm glad that Alex persuaded me to be reckless that one night, because I'm beyond excited to see where things will go with Mitch. I took him home and we ended our second night together not jumping each other's bones like last time. I've just started to get to know him, and god forbid anything messes it up. Now, my only problem is to overcome the biggest thing that's happening in my life. I'm treading in deep waters right now, but I feel like it would be wrong to not pursue this with my brunette boy. I've been going to therapy sessions and my problem has been fading. Sure, you'd suspect that after everything I've gone through that nothing could be worse. I mean, I was left to fend for myself in the real world at a young age. What could be worse than that? Believe me, that's another story for another day. If the issue goes away, he won't need to know. No harm done, right?

-.-.-.-

Mitch

"So, how'd it go?" Kirstie dangled her head and half of her torso off my bed. I watched as her face started slowly turning red.

"I had many moments where I'd turn the color of your face, but I think I played it cool enough." I placed my hand on my lips and gasped. "Red, you're turning red!"

"Calm down Missi Pyle, I'll lean forward in a minute. Give me details. Deets, deets, deets, deets!"

"Okay, okay!" I laughed and put my hand gently against her face. I told her about the entire evening. I told her about confessing my coming out journey to Scott. I even told him about me dating her. I told her about his beautiful voice and the irregularity of my heart when he sang. I told her about how fantastic the food and the wine was at the most expensive restaurant I've ever been to. I told her about how much of a gentleman Scott was, holding doors open for me and taking care of me and making me swoon. I even told her about the smallest things, like him brushing my hand at dinner and my heart skipping a beat. It had only just begun and I had it bad. "I'm not sure if it's a combination of me already knowing his life from his novels or maybe the things he does... but I feel like I've known him for much longer than I have. I don't want to rush it since it's the first relationship since Travis and I actually feel really good about this one. Am I stupid? I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid. You're a hopeless romantic and it's precious."

"Ugh, momma is just lonely with you and your beautiful boyfriend and one of these days you'll move out or you'll convince me to move out and it'll just be awful, and I'll be alone with me and my pink alpaca." I reached for my alpaca, which I'd won at the state fair a year ago. It had the most adorable bow tie. I squeezed it against my chest and sighed.

"I'm not that horrible of a friend. I won't leave you to fend for yourself. I'll let you borrow Olaf from time to time. Maybe." She winked and I put my hand against her face again and she stuck her tongue out, grazing my palm.

"Gross, sis!" I retracted my hand and immediately wiped it on her shoulder.

"You were getting all mopey on me. Stop it."

"I can't help it sometimes. I'll find a beautiful man to love me and take care of me and be behind me the whole way." I watched amused as Kirstie scrunched her face. She's been my friend for forever but still can't get used to my twisted sex jokes.

"In front or behind or whatever... you'll be fine. I just know it. And maybe you'll be fine with Scott." She grinned.

"Yeah. That's definitely an idea I can get behind... well, in front of."

"You're really on a roll with making me squirm, aren't you?" Kirstie rolled over and let her head dangle the other way before showing her face again.

"I've got to find something that'll get you out of my room so I can sleep." She groaned and rolled off the bed lazily and walked to the door. She stumbled into the door frame.

"I left my head down too long." She clutched her head. "I might suffer permanent brain damage."

"You can't damage your pretty little brain. You're needed."

"Brains are ugly, pink, slimy things." She scrunched her face again. "Why do we go off on these odd tangents. Good night, Mitchell."

"Night, Kirstin." I blew her a kiss and she closed the door behind me. I won't lie when I say the first thing I did when climbing under my covers was checking my text messages. None from Scott, and it was absolutely driving me insane. Good things come to those who wait. I fell asleep within half an hour, and the moment I was in deep sleep my phone buzzed happily.