I'm From Driftwood

by Nikki Olsen

I once read that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is when SHE brushes up against me and puts her arms around me.

And there are no words for that.

When I was approximately 14 years of age my mother and step-father took me to my favorite Mexican restaurant. I was in the middle of a bite of deliciousness when my Mom softly whispers, “We believe you are having homosexual tendencies.”

I spit out my food and stared at the two of them. She may as well have been on stage with a microphone and holding a huge spotlight on me. It felt like the entire restaurant came to a halt and all eyes were on me. In my mind you could have heard a pin drop in that establishment. “We know you have been kissing girls,” is what I heard, “and you are going to hell.”

“Umm…well…uh, I think you are wrong! NO” is what I believe I said while viciously shaking my head back and forth.

The 14 years of knowledge I had was far vaster than these two whose combined age was around 88. The reason they took me to the restaurant was because I would run like hell from anything uncomfortable. Literally, out the front door and down the street not to be seen for hours was my method of operating. I suppose this is still my modus operandi but at least I am aware of it now. Simply because he was a social worker and she worked with emotionally challenged individuals, what the hell did they know? Who cares if I had a girlfriend and the majority of my friends were all gay? These two were just plain stupid. I was not going to be one of those homosexual people made fun of. I was not going to be referred as a “dyke, lesbo, lezzy, queer, carpet muncher, fruitcake” and my favorite “crack snacker.” Of course I could pull a “Vagina Monologue” here and make a list for days but you get the idea. It’s not that I wasn’t gay; I just didn’t want to be.

I fought it, lied, made myself miserable and acted out in the face of all of the love and support most people long for from family and friends. Somehow, despite the understanding and acceptance I had, I was determined it was wrong. I was a latent homosexual I guess. I suppressed and repressed on a conscious level. At the age of 24 is when I finally accepted myself after numerous relationships.

I didn’t drape myself in a rainbow flag and run through the streets screaming, “I am here, I am queer and I am here to stay.” I simply stopped lying to others and more importantly, myself.

And now, 17 years later I am completely out and it is the best feeling. I can’t begin to tell you how fortunate I am to have the love, support and acceptance that I do have now. In closing I would like people to ponder something: What if a gay person did not have sex? Would they still be gay?

The answer is yes. I can assure you one thing: If I could get the same mushy, weak in the knees, passion throughout my soul with a man I would. It has never happened. It’s the same feeling anyone gets when love enters your being, mine just happens to be with the same sex. It is not a choice. I am not going to be someone else or not love simply because hate exists out there in this world.

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by Layne Box

I came out when I was twenty and that was to some friends and my mother. I had a conversation with my mom, about how I wanted to tell friends and family in my own time. I think we all know that there is a time to tell everyone and each one is different.

In doing so I really never dated openly with my family knowing. When I was asked who I was dating, if they got real intense with the questions I would say “she” and in my head laugh, but most of the time if I discussed who I was dating, I just said, “the person I am dating.” Dating really didn’t happen too much, because I seemed to find every guy that “liked” me, but along the way found someone else that he “liked” for the moment. And for me, I just don’t like to be the other guy or second best. So I have been single for most of my “out” life and I had never found a guy that I could say the words “I love you” to. But on Oct. 4 (year doesn’t really matter) I was out with my best friend Scott, who was not having the best time dating, so we made a pact, no hitting on guys, no getting numbers and no hooking up. Hey, you will do anything for a friend, right? And honestly, how hard can that be, one night of not hitting on a guy or any of those laid out rules? So, I quickly shook on the deal.

As we are out being single and loving it, we decide the night is just not much fun and we were ready to go home. So Scott led the way out of the bar, when I spotted a friend Corey, talking with a large group of people I didn’t know. I ran over to say hi, thinking I am just going to say hi and leave, so I will catch up with Scott outside. As I am saying hi, I see a guy within the group that I just can not take my eyes off of, and he was the center of attention amongst his friends. I have never been the one to make the first move with any guy, but when I saw him, the conversation with Corey stopped and turned straight to him. I wanted to know him. Corey waved him over and introduced us. “Matt this is my friend Layne, Layne this is Matt.” We hit it off right away and I got lost in conversation, and totally forgot Scott was waiting outside. He came back in with a vengeance, and it was time for me to leave. So, keeping to my pact I was unable to give my number or get his. Thanking God for networking sites, I wrote my name down and told him if he has Facebook or Myspace, he will find me, as I am the only Layne Box on there. And alas, I had to leave.

The next twenty four hours were long. I was checking my pages every chance I got. And finally, there it was–a message from Matt. We began emailing, texting and calling pretty much every minute of the day. I drove to Houston for our first date and then after that, pretty much every day I had off I was in Houston with him. One night after being out with friends, we climbed into bed and were talking while cuddling. As I was laying there thinking he was asleep, I heard him say, “I love you.” My heart began to race. Did he say that in a drunken moment or was he already asleep and talking in his sleep? I fell asleep without returning it, but in a later conversation found out that he meant it and worried I didn’t feel the same. I explained what happened and why I didn’t return the I love you, but now I couldn’t just say it because it would seem like I was just saying it, but that the time would be right and he would know. I am such a hopeless romantic when it comes to that.

Being in Houston so much, meant that I was close to my family and I was going to see them more often. My aunt and grandmother got to see me a lot because they tended to be off work while Matt was at work so we always went shopping and to lunch, which made me happy as they are amazing women. My Aunt Terry is the second person in our family I came out to and she knew who Matt was, but agreed to just not tell the rest of the family. While visiting one day, my grandmother asked where I was staying while I was in Houston and I told her my friend Matt’s house. “You seem to be staying at Matt’s all the time,” she replied and I explained we were close friends. We continued on in conversation and like an A.D.D. child, my grandmother in the middle of a different topic, looked at me and said, “what kind of friend is Matthew?” BAM!! 18-wheeler and brick wall, not what I was expecting to come out of her mouth. “What do you mean, Mamaw?” I replied. She wanted to know if Matt was my friend or my frieeeennnndd, yes, she said it nice and slow. I thought about it for a second and then realized I just had to tell her, “Well, if you are asking if he is my boyfriend, then yes. He is, and he makes me really happy.” She looked at me, then at my aunt Terry, and said, “Well thank God, because I thought I was just making this up.”

Later that day, we were going to shop and we got a call from my other aunt, saying Grandpa wasn’t feeling well. Now I couldn’t hear this but when my grandmother told them to have him lay down and we would be there as soon as possible, I knew something was wrong. Being in the medical field I wanted to know what was going on. We got there and found my grandfather pale, clammy and sweaty. At 79, he had never had any problems and this was something big I could tell. I got an ambulance there and wow, it seems as though they take forever when you are waiting. So I called Matt as I needed that support. He was amazing, calmed me down and made sure I was level-headed. We got everything in order before heading to the hospital. My grandparents were there with nothing, since my grandmother just jumped in the ambulance and left with them. Matt had only met them once, but was the first one at the hospital and was able to make sure they were fine and gave us a report as we were trying to get to downtown Houston (not an easy thing when stressed). After all was said and done my grandfather had surgery and is fine but that is when I realized for the first time, I was in love.

This was the moment and the perfect man was the one I got to say “I love you” to for the first time. It was amazing. That is when I knew for sure, not all guys were horrible and I was going to be happy. I didn’t know until then what love felt like, but I was glad he was the one I learned it from. Matt and I later went our separate ways, but there is nothing like your first love.

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by Layne Box

Growing up, my mom and I spent lots of time in the car, traveling to see family. We tended to move a lot and our family was always hours and hours away. So this was our time to talk and catch up with each other. So naturally, when I was being picked on about being gay, we talked about it. This started at an early age and I always denied it. But the talk with mom was always, “You know if you are gay, I would love you anyway.” My response of course was “I AM NOT GAY!!” That would end the conversation and then we would move on to something else.

Years later when I finally came out to my friends and began dating men, I thought it was time to tell mom. So again, on a trip to see family I started out with, “Mom I have some bad news.” Concerned, she asked what, and I began to tell her about how I was in a car accident and I left the scene and that the other person was injured pretty bad. I went on about how I was being sued and it wasn’t looking good. Naturally my mom was upset and concerned, but was totally supportive and wanted to help no matter what. Finally when I had her totally engulfed, and pretty emotional, I looked at her and said, “Mom, I am just kidding, I am gay.” That is when she slapped me and asked why I would do that? My response was, “Well I figured if you could love me when I almost killed someone, being gay couldn’t be that bad.”

She stopped the car and said, “Like I said before, I love you no matter what.”

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by Brian

Ever since I was little, I knew something was wrong. I was different. I didn’t know exactly why, but I knew something was up. I never liked wearing dresses, tights, or anything, really, that my mom wanted me to wear. I felt pressured to play with girl toys, as my sisters did, but I got bored too easily. I treasured a toy car set and play mat I had at home, and that would keep me busy for hours. My Dad gave me a model care when I was little, and I have had it ever since. Things like these were who I was, and I knew it.

As I got older, I definitely knew I was different. I came out as being gay my sophomore year, but that just wasn’t it. I knew it went further, though I didn’t want to accept it. I tried figuring things out. I thought about the fact that I have always gotten along with and related to my male teachers more than my female teachers. I thought about how I like girls, and how I love to wear button-up shirts, loose sweatpants, and loose jeans. By junior year, I knew what was up. I knew I was (and am) transgender. My name was (and is) Brian, and I hated it. I hated the thought of not being in the right body, I hated the thought of society not accepting me. I tried shoving my intuition away, but it didn’t work. I just could not do it.

Senior year, I decided I had to come out. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and it was my only choice. I told my parents, who were shocked at first, and my friend who thankfully accepted it. I am not fully out, but I hope I will be soon, as I really need and want to show society who I really am.

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by Rebecca

Looking back, I remember not always feeling “normal.” In elementary school I wasn’t very pretty, and I had a few good friends, which I still have today. As soon as I was in fifth grade, I was a lot more sociable and comfortable with my looks. But that’s not why I’m writing this. See when I was in fifth grade I felt different. Not as in my religion, my looks, or my friends. But my attractions to girls.

I didn’t know what lesbian, or bisexual at the time was, but I was still young and growing. In fifth grade I had my first kiss. It was special and different; it was my first kiss with a girl. Yes a girl. It felt right to me. As I went through middle school I ignored a lot of my feelings. Because by this time I was told that being gay or bisexual was a sin and not excepted in society. I was pretty much being brainwashed, but I didn’t believe what anyone with hate said. I knew I was made just the way I am for a reason, and that I’m perfect being who I am. That was all 5 years ago. Here I am a sophomore in high school. Freshman year I came out saying I didn’t find women more attractive than men, and that at that current time I did have a girlfriend. A lot of people found out and thought I was “gross” and that I was going to try and “touch them.” I was hated on a lot, but I never let it get to me because I was perfectly fine with myself around school and public. Just last week I went to the beach in Galveston, Texas, with my girlfriend. We held hands and kissed in public, and I felt comfortable doing so. We got uneasy stares from people who weren’t comfortable being around a lesbian couple, but a lot of people smiled and enjoyed seeing two people love each other even though they’re the same gender.

I may face many obstacles in the future with my sexuality and my choice of living, but I sure am proud of myself for who I am, and how far I got myself in this world.

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by Robert Gonzalez

I realized I was gay at a young age. I would always love for my best friend to stay over. The years passed and I would hear that being gay was wrong. I would hear it left and right so I would try and convince myself that I wasn’t. I would date girls but I would never have sexual relations with them because I would feel some sort of guilt.

My senior year in high school was when I first accepted it. I would work for my small town’s city pool, and that summer, a new guy joined the crew. I had strong feelings for him, and I decided to tell him because we had become really good friends. Well, it turns out that he had the same feelings and, well, things went from there.

One day, we were at my parents’ house (he would always come over because my parents worked in the afternoons). That day my mom got home from work early and we had not realized it. She found us cuddling in bed and she went crazy; she started calling me gay and my days at my parents were hell every day after that. We fell in deep very fast but I still had a little voice in my head telling me it was bad to be gay.

I had moved in with him and his parents one year after meeting him because I was having problems at home. His parents knew what was going on but they didn’t seem to care very much; they where really nice people and I loved living there…until that little voice came back and I was struggling with me being okay with being gay.

I ended up moving out of my boyfriend’s house and going back to my parents, and tried living a normal straight life but I couldn’t do it. I felt fake. Rumors had already been going around that I was gay because I had stopped talking to all my friends for this one guy, so everyone in my small town looked at me differently. I moved to another town to try and start over fresh, but nothing was helping. I would have endless crying nights.

Finally I broke down: I called my sister and told her everything, and that I was afraid of telling our parents because I was afraid that I was going to be shunned from the family. She told me that would never happen and that they all knew already, that they where just waiting for me to come out myself. So one weekend I went back to my hometown to tell my mom what was going on but I couldn’t. The next morning she woke me up bright and early and asked me to sit up, that she had to talk to me. I was nervous because I had no idea what she was going to talk to me about.

She grabbed my shoulder and told me, “I know why you came down this weekend. Your sister told me. And I just want you to know that we don’t care, you will always be our son and we will always love you.”

Now I live a normal gay life with no regrets. I’m happy and I wouldn’t want it any different.

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by Meah

One of the most important events to occur in my short, largely meaningless life is starting a Gay-Straight Alliance at my high school. We’d all suffered enough under the school’s administration, and several had decided it was time to band together and show what we’re made of.

Part of starting a club is to obtain signatures of people who will join, a rational thing. We had to get more signatures than any other club. Not that it mattered, because twenty isn’t that different from ten in a school of almost three thousand. As the president-elect, I was in charge of finding these signatures, and of course the first people I asked were my friends.

Although many of them were kind enough, good enough to sign, in part just because it meant so much to me. But one person’s reaction shocked me. Not so much his opinion as the words he used and the total disregard with which he said them. I had been friends with Paul for several years, and he knew (along with everyone else in our small magnet program) that I’m pan-romantic. It was no secret, and it still isn’t. Thus, it was an amazing shock when he said to me, in all seriousness, “Would you be mad if I said that all gay people should be placed on an island and shot?”

I wasn’t quite sure how to react, because obviously that’s a pretty malicious statement. So the first words out of my mouth were riddled with violence: “I’ll be nice and not rip your throat out.”

It just didn’t seem believable that anyone could have such total disregard for the humanity of another group of people, none of whom had ever done anything to him. Even in Conservative-ville, it was just unimaginable. And yet he had said it. What kind of perspective brought someone to that conclusion? I had to wonder if he thought we had as much value as cattle, or even less since he at least allowed them the dignity to be consumed, as opposed to left to rot. How could he have no respect for me as his friend and classmate, and for the people I loved, for the people he knew? Because it was how he was raised. It’s something I will never understand and a place I have to escape.

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