Strangers and Friends

Don't underestimate the power of strangers. When you're down, a genuine smile from a passerby at the supermarket can bring you up. A look of exasperation on a haggard person with a sign made from cardboard can break your heart. The rants of an impassioned individual can infuriate you. A former stranger made the weight I've been hauling around feel a little bit lighter last week.

I take a deep breath as I walk up to the bar doors. My breath escapes as a cloud of vapor from my lips. It is freezing outside. I can't tell if my hands are shaking from the cold or the nerves. Don't be an idiot, you aren't that cold. You haven't been in the night air for more than a minute. I walk through the doors and begin to look around realizing I have nothing to look for. I only told him I'd be wearing "The Scarf." What an idiot. Couldn't have just gone with "Hey, I'll be wearing a gray coat," could you? A man is standing in the waiting area but I hardly notice as the hostess asks, "Are you meeting someone?" I smile and unintentionally ignore her as I scan the bar. I turn to my left and see the man, our eyes meet and he raises his eyebrows. It's him.

Our initial exchange is met with a friendly hug. Although this is the first time I've seen him, we've been friends for a while and he knows my biggest secret-my sexuality. We walk over and grab a table at the bar. I can't believe I'm actually doing this. He nods, "The scarf." I laugh. After that, the conversation begins to flow.

We sit in the bar talking like old friends. Nothing feels awkward or forced. We talk freely about our sexuality- Did anyone around you hear any of that?, the Twitter community to which we both belong and even our real lives. Somehow, I'm able to fully commit to this friendship and start to open up. "You guys want anything else? Last call," our waitress says. Last call? How long have we been here? What seemed like a short conversation has lasted two hours.

The conversation moves outside into the cold. The temperature has dropped but we decide a picture is necessary to share with our Twitter friends. Shot after shot, we try to get it right. The angles are wrong, the picture is blurry, that concept was dumb #gayboyproblems anyone? By the time we take the perfect shot, we are both shaking from the cold but laughing at the memory we've just created. We part ways with another hug and an affirmation that another meeting will happen.

I walk back to my car with a smile on my face. It really is getting better.

Don't underestimate the power of strangers. A stranger can easily turn into a trusted friend to share your journey. I'm learning that this road can be even worse without some support along the way. This meeting was a big step for me in a lot of ways and I'm happy to have come this far.

From my closet door to yours, don't be afraid to let a stranger become a friend.

The Runner

In the last couple of years, I've become a runner. Mostly, I've done this out of need for exercise and convenience but really, I've been a runner much longer. I've had a recurring dream recently: I'm sprinting as fast as I can through the wilderness under a pitch black sky. It's cold outside. The icy air pierces and stings my lungs as I pant rapidly. RUN! My mind screams at me. My feet continue moving as fast as they can, navigating every rock, tree root and obstacle in the path. My mind is racing alongside my heart but I find a moment of clarity. "What are you running from?" I ask myself. I hear a voice of panic in response, Does it really matter?! Just. Run! I never really get to find out what it is that I'm running from. I just keep running. That sounds about right.

I'm guarded, I'm not a sharer, I've built walls... Mention a saying like any of these and it probably describes me. Anytime there's mention of feeling something real, nine times out of ten every fiber of my being yanks me in the opposite direction. Yeah, I have a few issues, who doesn't? The truth is, I could probably venture a guess at why I'm running... In my dreams and out.

When I reluctantly created my Twitter account, I don't really know what I was expecting. Maybe a place to find others like me, commiserate, interact a little, observe. I didn't anticipate anything like what it has turned into. I've grown attached to people, created real relationships that mean something to me-some more than I'd like to admit. In this process I've even started to let people get close, close enough to hurt me even. A little too close, perhaps?

RUN! My mind desperately bellows. The echo is so loud it rings in my ears. It is impossible to outrun oneself but that's never stopped me from trying. I'd love to listen, to obey. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't come close. It would be easy. I'd quietly delete my email, deactivate my Twitter account and it would all disappear. I would go on living my life just like before. Pretending. Lying. Again. It would be like the past two months never happened. Or would it?

The only argument of reason I have comes booming into life. It wouldn't. I want to hide. I want to run. I want to be numb.  But I think I've been changed somehow. I don't want to lie or pretend anymore. I don't want to be numb to the feelings I've felt and conversations I've had over the last few weeks. I don't want to sacrifice who I really am anymore.

To reiterate a tweet I posted recently, my Twitter is a good thing. This blog, my relationships, thoughts and all that has come along with this situation are good things. I only hope in my weak moments, I can remember that.

The other side of that door is closer than most of us would like to think. Its so close I can feel it already, the warm light on my skin, the truth in my words. There's a lot of uncertainty between here and there but anything this big is worth fighting for, right?

I'm a runner. Maybe it's time I started running at something instead of away from everything.

From my closet door to yours, take a step in the right direction.

Here To Stay Is A New Me

The holidays are a crazy time for everyone. Family or friends visiting, decorating, parties or shopping. Everyone has his own routine or schedule to follow. This is my favorite time of year. My world has always seemed happier during this time. I receive more smiles, see more good deeds and appreciate the simple things so much more. Although the weather in Colorado is pretty unpredictable right now, the one constant is the heartwarming feeling of this season. I hope I can rely on it this year more than ever.

Dancing on this tightrope of secrecy the last couple of months has been taxing. Now I'm not one to let anything get me down for long. I refuse to let anything negative have that much control over me. I acknowledge it, feel it and move on. While this isn't something I can move on from, generally speaking I deal with it pretty well. I got myself here, now it's time to help myself out-in more ways than one.

I've done a lot of soul searching recently and realized that some changes need to occur in my life. I'm not sure what those changes will include yet but they need to happen sooner rather than later. Some of them have nothing to do with my process and yet have everything to do with it. I feel like I have a chance to completely start over with a new life free of hiding and lying. Part of me is terrified for a new beginning and the other half is eager for it. I feel like a brand new person and I want to show him to the world. Although I feel changed, I don't think I'm quite ready to dive off the tightrope just yet. I still fight with myself about the whole situation. Besides, timing is everything.

I doubt there is a "right" way to do this but I want to do it as "right" as possible for my situation. I want to look back on it and be able to say "I'm proud of how I handled that." Regardless of the outcome. Though my eager side is urging me forward, I'm holding back. I don't want to create an emotional scar-for myself or others-during my favorite season of the year. Wouldn't that suck? I'd be sitting there this time next year when "Jingle Bells" comes on the radio and I'd relive the memory of some family member lecturing me. No, thank you. I can be patient and just enjoy the merriment from my dark closet.

I know this time can be lonely for a lot of people. Not everyone is able to be with their loved ones and some may feel alone despite sitting in a crowded room. If you're one of those people feeling down, I know it isn't much but know you're not alone. This Twitter community we've all created has been something more than I ever would've expected and I hope the camaraderie of it can give you a smile.

From my closet door to yours, Happy Thanksgiving and smile!

Her

I've said before that I've never really let anyone get that close to me. Part of the human existence is sharing it with other people but I didn't want to share mine with anyone. Some people have a way of letting you down and I wanted to ensure that wouldn't happen. There's only really ever been two people that have come close to seeing it all. This one is about her.

I met her when I was young. She was the good girl, always cute and innocent. She had a nice way about her that made her hard not to like but because of other parties involved, she wasn't my biggest fan. Eventually I won her over and our friendship took off. We really got close in high school and hung out often. She was the only girl who made my imaginary world seem real.

We talked all the time. Everything that made up our lives was covered in a matter of hours every night on the phone. She'd date and I'd size up the guys she was interested in to see if they were good enough to date my best friend. She'd do the same but every girl I had an interest in would never really be good enough. The thing about our friendship was that it was always more than that. We had real feelings for each other but kept missing our mark. She'd like me but I'd have interests elsewhere, I'd like her and she'd be in a relationship. We'd fight because my lifestyle was a little reckless and stupid (granted looking back, it probably was)... That was how it went until we finally got it right.

Six years in the making and Bam! Like that it all fell into place. We were both single and interested so we naturally came together. I was apprehensive about getting it right with this one, she seemed like the only thing I could do right and our friendship meant a lot to me so I didn't want to mess it up. That apprehension led to a lot of fights and a rocky start to our relationship. We stuck it out and as we grew together, our friendship and relationship grew stronger. I honestly felt like I could give this girl my entire heavy world to hold and she would delicately balance it on one finger as if it were a cotton ball, lightweight and shatterproof.

I'd developed some close male friendships in college and she felt a little threatened. Jokingly she asked, "Are you gay? You're not going to leave me and go date Robby are you?" Time stood still for a minute. I had no sexual interest in Robby but the words still gave me pause. A flash moment of realization washed over me. My other half, my partner in crime and the one I can go to with anything doesn't know. How can I fix this. Can I fix this? I laughed it off and joked about how I was definitely going to do that and how you just can't fight fate. Again I'd let myself down. The only other person who might've been okay with knowing who I was had been lied to.


Until recently, I thought this girl was it. She was the one. I've loved her and she's made me happier than I've ever been but how can I continue without her knowing? And how could I possibly be invested enough to make a lifelong commitment when she doesn't even know all of me? Perhaps I was trying desperately to bring my fairytale to life. The reality is my lies have become her truth and she's unknowingly kidnapped behind my closet door, the tragic victim of my cowardice. Moving forward I think releasing my hostage and taking off her blindfold may be my hardest obstacle.

I'm not sure where I'm going but sometimes all you need is to see a few steps in front of you. Maybe that will make the journey less terrifying. I hope so.

From my closet door to yours, don't let your imagination run away with you.

Jack, Why "It Gets Better"

I have this friend, we'll call him Jack. Jack is everything most guys want to be: smart, good looking, athletic, good at almost anything he tries, a ladies man, a man's man. This guy can make you smile without even trying. The funny thing is, when I first met him I didn't like him at all.
We were at a party in college, probably one of my first big college parties. I was watching a game of beer pong and he was on a team with a good friend of mine-Robby. To understand what I'm about to tell you, you have to know that neither Robby nor Jack like wearing clothing all that much. If given the option and cooperative weather, Robby'd wear nothing but board shorts year round and Jack would wear nothing at all regardless of weather. During this game of beer pong, Robby and Jack started to lose to the two girls they were playing against. They couldn't let that happen. Immediately Robby decided his shirt had to come off in order to win. It did. Jack seized the opportunity and threw his to the floor as well.

Jack is a person without a filter, he loved any and all attention, would use any pejorative term available and his attitude was pretty cocky. Basically he was everything I didn't like. As the game progressed, the team was close to winning but not by a big enough margin. Jack decided it was my fault. Without even really being introduced, he turned to me and said, "You're not shirtless. For us to beat these bitches, you've got to be shirtless. It's the only way. Guys versus girls. Show your support!"

At first I thought this was funny, this guy I had just casually met was yelling at me to take off my shirt. I'm not exactly the type to just strip because I'm told and I wasn't anywhere near drunk enough to start removing clothing. Then the chant for me to take it off began. "Woah," I thought, "this is a little too far." I laughed it off and left the room. That was how I met Jack.

Gradually through his crude humor and ridiculous antics, he won me over. He would literally do anything to make people laugh. You could meet him once and have a story that stuck with you forever. He lit up a room with dirty jokes and nudity. Even the most conservative person would grow to like his jokes. In the years I've known him, a person that didn't like him at some point in time is rare. There's just one thing I didn't know about Jack, he was hiding something.

I got a phone call from an unknown number late one night. I assumed it was a wrong number and didn't answer. It rang again. This time, I picked up. Robby was on the other end, crying. I wondered what shenanigans they'd gotten into this time and how wasted he must be. "I need you," he said. That was enough. I jumped in my car and sped to his house. When I drove up there were police cars outside. "Holy shit, cops. Who got arrested and what the hell happened," I wondered. I got out of my car expecting to bail someone out of jail. If only it'd been that easy.

I walked up to Robby and his girlfriend in silence. I looked at him inquiringly. "Jack killed himself." My heart sank. This had to be a cruel joke. "What," I whispered and repeated this into the night several times as if it would give me an answer. Hoping to see Jack smiling and end this nightmare, I looked to the house. Nothing but police camera flashes from inside. My stomach churned as I heard the lament of a mutual friend sitting on the curb. I hadn't noticed him until now but his face told me I wasn't going to wake up from this. Every emotion ripped through my body like a hurricane. I'd just seen him that afternoon, laughed with him, touched him.

Hours later, we all got together to avoid being alone. No one knew the sadness he was hiding. He was the happiest person any of us knew. We all told stories about him and laughed through our tears. He left an void that can't be filled in all of the lives he touched. Still no one really knows why it happened other than a bad romantic situation coupled with alcohol.

Although the darkness inside my closet can be overwhelming at times, I know there's light shining through, if not from the other side of the door then through the walls or ceiling. I've been on the side of those left behind. It hurts more than I can ever explain. Please don't ever let yourself think that you don't matter enough to stick around and that it won't get better-you do and it will.

We might not share one big closet but in a way we're all neighbors, just a thin wall away. So, from my closet door to yours, chin up. It gets better.

Him

I've never really let myself be fully invested in anyone. I guess you could say it was programmed in a long time ago. Probably a cocktail of my parents' divorce, failed friendships and what I saw in the world. Who knows. The way I saw it, if you never give away all the pieces of the puzzle, there's never a finished product for the mean kids to destroy. I think there's only ever been two people who've almost seen it all. One guy and one girl.

It was easy to be friends with him. It was natural at 12. We had similar interests: we played sports together, liked the same music, lived a couple of blocks away, liked to get into trouble. He was everything you could ask for in a best friend. Our friendship grew over the years with only a few small fights. We talked about everything-girls, making out with girls, friends, school, family, life, religion, nothing was off limits. We talked to each other as if we were brothers. Of course, I thought of him as more than a friend at times but it went against all the defenses I'd developed so every time it surfaced, I buried it deeper than before.

Once, he asked me if I would ever consider being with a guy-being gay. Panic overcame every fiber of my being, Is he serious? Is this a trap? Could he know something? "No. Why?" I answered. trying to stay calm. "Just wondering. Why wouldn't you?" He pressed. "I don't know. It just wouldn't feel right," I replied. At that moment in my 13-year-old existence, I felt like I failed myself. I lied to the only person I'd ever felt I could and would tell anything to for no reason. I knew he'd been open to the idea but I refused to go there.

We stayed close into high school. I found a different group of friends but I always knew if I needed anything, he'd be there. He, myself and another friend from middle school would hang out from time to time. The three of us could not see each other for months and pick up right where we left off. Toward the end of high school, we all got together for a memorable drunken night. I had no idea just how memorable it would be. I got so drunk I lost pieces of the night-that never happens to me.

We were at a summer house with a bunch of beds in one room so we all crashed out together. As we laid down, we talked just like we did during sleepovers when we were younger. I stretched my hand out and brushed his by accident. I thought nothing of it. Then, his hand hit mine with a lingering touch. This isn't happening. In my drunken state, I didn't have the will power to pretend. I broke through and reached out. My hand brushed his intentionally. This time, I let my hand linger with a soft touch. Please let this be real. I hoped. Then it happened, his hand touched mine and held on. I grasped his hand tight as if I were holding the only real thing I'd ever felt. We laid like that for what seemed like hours. The next day neither of us said a word. We let it go just like our hands eventually had to the previous night.

I brought it up one night years later on one of our walk 'n' talks. We'd been doing them for almost as long as we'd been friends. I was confused and had been ever since that night. We both had girlfriends but I had to know.
"Are we ever going to talk about that night?" I asked.
"What night?"
"The night at the cabin," I advanced.
"Oh... What do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know, what happened... Why it happened."
"I don't know what happened. I guess our love for each other just came out in a different way. I can't really explain it. Let's walk a little more."
We walked into the darkness a little more idling in small talk. I could feel something different in the air. We walked up a hill and he stopped at the top. He turned toward me and we looked each other in the eye, our faces inches from each other. We leaned in slowly. My heart was beating out of control like a jackhammer at full power without an operator. Just centimeters separated us now...  Reality snapped back into focus. I pulled back. "I can't," he said. Holy shit. "Me neither," I returned. I couldn't allow myself to go there, especially like that-as a cheater. We walked back mostly in silence until he asked, "So, are you gay?" Still shaking, I responded "No. Just doing what felt right, you?" I almost hoped he'd say yes. "Na, I don't think so," he concluded. We never mentioned either night again.

Our friendship faded over the years. I convinced myself I'd given too much, shown too much of myself and went back to only giving enough to keep people satisfied but always wanting more. It was the only time I ever really crept close to the barricade in front of my closet door. After that, I put the whole thing in a box, threw it on the top of the barricade and ran in the opposite direction toward an imaginary world at the back of my closet.

I'm creeping back toward the door again and unpacking the boxes I used for leverage. Each is filled with something I never wanted to show. For the first time I'm not afraid of the things in here with me. Maybe that's progress, I don't really know. I hope so.

From my closet door to yours, hang in there and happy unpacking.

My Imaginary World

The conflict between the real world and the imaginary is one that goes back to most childhoods. Kids blur the lines constantly. "Pretend you're a ninja!" I used to say to my friend as we'd ferociously fight off the swarms of make believe bad guys atop the jungle gym skyscraper in his backyard. I wish those lines hadn't become so concrete as I grew up and pretending became more than a playful backyard game.

Pretending became an art form I perfected, a skill I'd honed until I was an expert. I'd pretend not to have an interest in certain activities, people or even things-anything that would make me seem less or more than normal. I became so good at pretending, I was completely immersed in a self-created imaginary world. I've heard they say ignorance is bliss... "They" are probably ignorant.

All of a sudden my fictional world, something I'd spent 20 plus years building, was shattered in less than ten minutes by a simple homemade "Coming Out" video. Dumbfounded, I took a look around for the first time with clarity. I realized my friends, girlfriend, family and everyone I loved didn't know who I really was. "How in Hell did I get here?" was my immediate question. Then I remembered I got myself here. My art form. My skill. My downfall.

I don't want to pretend anymore. So, here I am for the first time taking a stand against myself and the world. I'm creeping closer to a door I've been barricading with anything I could find my entire life. The closet door.

This is the first time I've ever written this and have yet to say it out loud. I'm bisexual. Perhaps it seems like a small step but you have to walk before you can run. It feels out of character and yet relieving and easier than I thought it would be. I only hope the same is true for the road ahead.

From my closet door to yours, Happy National Coming Out Day.