Another Gay Ass Love Story

Prologue.

I’ve known I was gay since I was thirteen. The realization happened gradually rather than suddenly. I had my suspicions at an early age; we would be at the beach and my gaze would find its way to shirtless guys. I assumed it was jealousy I felt, because I was such a pale, chubby boy. Every instance I did something questionably gay, I came up with an excuse. When I turned thirteen, though, that was when I really knew. It happened like this:

Paul Weasley was the first guy in school I ever liked. He was my best friend. One night he came over and we hung out. It was perfectly normal for the first hour or so. Then we got to talking about first kisses and how we would do it. Suddenly he turned to me.

“Well, maybe we should try it right now. It’s not gay if it’s just practice.”

I was speechless. I didn’t know whether to run or kiss him right away.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” He said after awhile, and I said something that changed everything between us.

“I want to.”

That was it. The moment I knew I was gay. To say it was great is an understatement. It was perfect. Sparks flew and everything. I thought from then on it was Paul and me together forever. That wasn’t how it turned out, though. He wanted to forget about it so that we can stay friends. I wasn’t too happy about that, but eventually I saw that it was for the best.

When I came out, I promised myself I would never feel shame for what I like. I constantly reminded myself that hiding would only cause me pain and isolation. That constant reminder eventually faded as I grew up. I thought more about how to get a decent job, and apparently walking in wearing a rainbow flag with an “I am really gay” tattoo on my forehead isn’t the best way to do that. I stopped feeling proud of who I was and I started to hide it.

Eventually, I got a job doing what I love. I get to be around kids that are expanding their mind. It’s amazing. I couldn’t ask for anything better. I have a wonderful (soon to be) husband and I’m living the dream. Except no one at work can share the happiness I feel about him. No one can know that I’m dating a wonderful guy. Everything is perfect . . . but my boss is homophobic.