I'm From Driftwood

by Ed Smith

(TRIGGER WARNING: Wishful thoughts of death)

I was at my friend’s apartment and we were all drinking and waiting for people so we could go to a party. We were finally on our way to the party and everything seemed normal. Unfortunately when we first arrive at the party I see a guy that I have slept with. I frantically go through my phone trying to find his number. I finally find it and send him a text that said, “Please do not tell anyone about me bc im not out.” I thought I was in the clear and that my secret would be safe until I was ready to come out. I then confronted him because he never answered my text and said, “Hey, please don’t tell anyone we were together.” He told me that he already told someone.

I was hoping that he told someone that I didn’t know, so I asked him who. He said the girl with the lip ring. My world begins to fall apart at this very moment because the girl with the lip ring is one of my good friends, Jamie. I thought, though, that sometimes Jamie gets too drunk to remember anything so I found her and asked how drunk she was. She said she’s not that drunk. Now I realize that I have to talk to her.

We walked outside and then I just said it: “I’m bisexual.” I immediately started crying unlike I ever have before. She accepted me and comforted me. I asked her to please not tell anyone because I am not ready to come out, she agreed and we went back into the party. I take out my phone so I can vent my anger to a guy I used to date. I saw a text that asked how the party was, so I responded saying it sucked and there was a gay kid there that outed me to one of my friends. Then once another friend came to the party I realized that I texted the wrong person and told a huge gossiper that I was gay. After that all of my friends knew. I literally did not want to live. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. I hoped that I would just fall asleep and never wake up. The next morning a car almost hit me as I crossed the street and I wish it had just so I could be put out of my misery.

-(Share your story with us!)

by LeNair Xavier

Growing up in a religious Christian household hearing how “gays are going to hell in a hand basket” isn’t easy. Especially when you know in your heart of hearts that you are in a great degree everything your mother is talking against. Because of this, unlike most, I had 3 coming outs instead of just 1. And the reason I must tell all 3 is because they each connect to the next in a way forming the SINGLE coming out most think of when they talk about “coming out.”

The first coming out was when I was about 12 years old. A big news story at the time was about NAMBLA (North American Man/Boy Love Association). So between that and being told early on that I had a cuteness gay men like, my vivid imagination went to a worst case scenario of me being kidnapped and raped by males who were members of this group. Add to that growing up hearing all the derogatory talk about homosexuality in my home, and in schools, yet feeling attraction to males and females, I took it upon myself to scare myself into being “straight.” So I wrote a note to myself with that expressed purpose. I guess I was a writer even back then.

I stuck this letter into my sock, and evidently at some point during the day while I was home, it fell out of my sock and…my mother found it. Remember me mentioning how religious she was. Hence why this discovery led to an hours long talk telling me how if a man has sex with a man he immediately goes to hell.

That talk tortured me for years. Almost two decades actually. It led to me having friends, but never letting them get too close. Never dating a girl, because I didn’t want to get to the point of becoming married and having children. And never being kissed. In fact, my never being kissed is what caught my interest in the 1999 Drew Barrymore movie “Never Been Kissed.” That title explained my life perfectly.

These things that most people take for granted once they become the legal age of adulthood, were things that I denied myself. For I was told that what I felt was an abomination. So it is no surprise that for all of those years, at the slightest of letdowns, thoughts of suicide arose. For I already had a massive inner-pain of denying what I am. So the most minute thing on top of that was nearing becoming the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The second coming out was as I was nearing 31 years old. I was hating myself more and more at this point because I was 30, and still had no idea of how to define my orientation. I still had an attraction to women, but my attraction to males had me always fearing that a good-looking man could easily make me stray from my girlfriend/wife.

The only gay bar I knew of at the time was Splash Bar. I learned of it because a modeling contest was held there about a year earlier. I did an internet search of Splash Bar then, and that’s how I found out it was a gay bar/club. I think that discovery is one of the main reasons why I chickened out of the contest. Even though it was for a modeling contest, I didn’t want to explain to my mother that I was going to a gay bar of all places, and knowing that I would be putting myself in the throws of tempting that part of myself that we addressed almost 17 years prior.

Even though I bailed on going to Splash for the contest, I at this point felt that I had to go there. For this self-loathing because of not knowing myself had to stop. I had to stop wanting to die because of it.

I couldn’t wait for the weekend, for I was going to put myself to the test. And as an Aries, I love challenging myself. So on that Saturday night, February 9, 2002, I got on the subway train, and went to Splash Bar. While I was unaware of my orientation, I was quite self-aware about many other parts of myself. So I knew that once I felt the vibe after I walked in, if that place was not for me, then I would do a U-turn out the door.

I walked into Splash Bar, felt the vibe, and I quickly felt a sense of…belonging. The same way I do when I go to a church. Yes, church – where I make the commonality of the building’s purpose be what makes me belong there, regardless of how different we may act from one another beyond that purpose. In church, the purpose is to provide a place for those who believe in God. In Splash Bar, the purpose is to provide a place for men who have an attraction to other men.

Most people define “coming out” as when you tell someone else. That was the third coming out. This second coming out at Splash Bar was the most important coming out of all, for it was the night I came out to myself. It was the night I said, “LeNair, meet LeNair. Meet what he is orientation-wise.”

“What is LeNair orientation-wise?” I asked myself.

My reply…”He’s happy to finally know that he is a predominantly gay bisexual.”

About a year later, this is when the third coming out came around. I told my mother about my realization about myself, and how nothing much had changed since our discussion back nearly 20 years ago. This came about because of my involvement with a guy who was mentally draining me. And I still had no friends to talk to about my gay love life at this point, so Mom was still all I had. After that discussion, to my surprise, she seemed to take it well. When I asked her why she was so calm, compared to when I was 12, and she was hysterical, and caused me years of fears and contemplations of suicide, her reply was, “You’re an adult now. So anything you do now is between you and God.”

Now, 10 years after realizing my predominately gay bisexual self, I am happy to be alive. The thoughts of suicide are no more. And when faced with adversity, I’m more than willing to fight it until I come out on top. What troubles me, but at the same time wows me the most is the fact that all it took to avoid this misery was me first and foremost, being honest with myself.

Imagine how much happier this world would be if many did the same. I hope my story inspires more to come to make this world the happier place it can be with that honesty.

-(Share your story with us!)

by LeNair Xavier

Growing up in a religious Christian household hearing how “gays are going to hell in a hand basket” isn’t easy. Especially when you know in your heart of hearts that you are in a great degree everything your mother is talking against. Because of this, unlike most, I had 3 coming outs instead of just 1. And the reason I must tell all 3 is because they each connect to the next in a way forming the SINGLE coming out most think of when they talk about “coming out.”

The first coming out was when I was about 12 years old. A big news story at the time was about NAMBLA (North American Man/Boy Love Association). So between that and being told early on that I had a cuteness gay men like, my vivid imagination went to a worst case scenario of me being kidnapped and raped by males who were members of this group. Add to that growing up hearing all the derogatory talk about homosexuality in my home, and in schools, yet feeling attraction to males and females, I took it upon myself to scare myself into being “straight.” So I wrote a note to myself with that expressed purpose. I guess I was a writer even back then.

I stuck this letter into my sock, and evidently at some point during the day while I was home, it fell out of my sock and…my mother found it. Remember me mentioning how religious she was. Hence why this discovery led to an hours long talk telling me how if a man has sex with a man he immediately goes to hell.

That talk tortured me for years. Almost two decades actually. It led to me having friends, but never letting them get too close. Never dating a girl, because I didn’t want to get to the point of becoming married and having children. And never being kissed. In fact, my never being kissed is what caught my interest in the 1999 Drew Barrymore movie “Never Been Kissed.” That title explained my life perfectly.

These things that most people take for granted once they become the legal age of adulthood, were things that I denied myself. For I was told that what I felt was an abomination. So it is no surprise that for all of those years, at the slightest of letdowns, thoughts of suicide arose. For I already had a massive inner-pain of denying what I am. So the most minute thing on top of that was nearing becoming the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The second coming out was as I was nearing 31 years old. I was hating myself more and more at this point because I was 30, and still had no idea of how to define my orientation. I still had an attraction to women, but my attraction to males had me always fearing that a good-looking man could easily make me stray from my girlfriend/wife.

The only gay bar I knew of at the time was Splash Bar. I learned of it because a modeling contest was held there about a year earlier. I did an internet search of Splash Bar then, and that’s how I found out it was a gay bar/club. I think that discovery is one of the main reasons why I chickened out of the contest. Even though it was for a modeling contest, I didn’t want to explain to my mother that I was going to a gay bar of all places, and knowing that I would be putting myself in the throws of tempting that part of myself that we addressed almost 17 years prior.

Even though I bailed on going to Splash for the contest, I at this point felt that I had to go there. For this self-loathing because of not knowing myself had to stop. I had to stop wanting to die because of it.

I couldn’t wait for the weekend, for I was going to put myself to the test. And as an Aries, I love challenging myself. So on that Saturday night, February 9, 2002, I got on the subway train, and went to Splash Bar. While I was unaware of my orientation, I was quite self-aware about many other parts of myself. So I knew that once I felt the vibe after I walked in, if that place was not for me, then I would do a U-turn out the door.

I walked into Splash Bar, felt the vibe, and I quickly felt a sense of…belonging. The same way I do when I go to a church. Yes, church – where I make the commonality of the building’s purpose be what makes me belong there, regardless of how different we may act from one another beyond that purpose. In church, the purpose is to provide a place for those who believe in God. In Splash Bar, the purpose is to provide a place for men who have an attraction to other men.

Most people define “coming out” as when you tell someone else. That was the third coming out. This second coming out at Splash Bar was the most important coming out of all, for it was the night I came out to myself. It was the night I said, “LeNair, meet LeNair. Meet what he is orientation-wise.”

“What is LeNair orientation-wise?” I asked myself.

My reply…”He’s happy to finally know that he is a predominantly gay bisexual.”

About a year later, this is when the third coming out came around. I told my mother about my realization about myself, and how nothing much had changed since our discussion back nearly 20 years ago. This came about because of my involvement with a guy who was mentally draining me. And I still had no friends to talk to about my gay love life at this point, so Mom was still all I had. After that discussion, to my surprise, she seemed to take it well. When I asked her why she was so calm, compared to when I was 12, and she was hysterical, and caused me years of fears and contemplations of suicide, her reply was, “You’re an adult now. So anything you do now is between you and God.”

Now, 10 years after realizing my predominately gay bisexual self, I am happy to be alive. The thoughts of suicide are no more. And when faced with adversity, I’m more than willing to fight it until I come out on top. What troubles me, but at the same time wows me the most is the fact that all it took to avoid this misery was me first and foremost, being honest with myself.

Imagine how much happier this world would be if many did the same. I hope my story inspires more to come to make this world the happier place it can be with that honesty.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Gustavo

19 years old, and the perfect son but there’s just one little detail: I’m bi.

When I was 14 I realized that but didn’t care too much about it. The time passed and I began to see boys just as another way to have fun and “satisfy” my needs, there was still no problem about that.

Recently I met a really nice guy, we hanged out lots of times, he liked me a lot, but I was afraid of getting involved in something serious, and also there wasn’t too much chemistry in the physical side, so I moved on and I left that guy without saying anything, just using my final exams as an excuse. I felt terrible, I think he thinks that I used him and played with him, but that isn’t true.

During that time I went through a very hard crisis, I didn’t eat too much, I was really weak, and I had final exams, so it was a terrible combination. That crisis was because I was finally accepting who I am, and realizing what I really want in my life.

Perfection is a word that describes me very well. For my parents I’m the perfect son, the one with the high grades, the one studying a really good career, the handsome one, what else could they ask for. I looked for that perfection in my life, being perfect in every sense has been like a goal for me, and being bi just made the road to perfection a difficult and impossible one. So accepting my sexuality was really tough for me.

All my life I pictured myself marrying a nice woman, having four children, having a perfect family, and since I met that guy, that image blurred, I began to accept, that I could be happy marrying a man, probably adopting some kids (obviously out of this country) and being a happy family. The image I had all my life was corrupted and I had to accept a new one, that was another difficult challenge.

All those days were horrible; I cried day by day just asking God and the universe why does it have to be me? I still can’t get the answer but I know it’s not really necessary to know it, and that one day it will just arrive to me.

Another obstacle in my life has been my family. It’s viewed as a perfect one, all the sons are handsome and intelligent, the parents are a happy couple, everything is nice. But there are no perfect families in this world. The sons: one bi, and I’m pretty sure the young one is also; the daughter: full of stereotypes about herself, and that’s dangerous because it can create serious psychological problems in the future; the parents: they fight very often for really stupid things, the son doesn’t want to tell them that he is bi so he doesn’t create more problems; the dad: cheats on the mom, I know and my sister also; the mom: a workaholic with not so much time for her family.

My friends, always making homophobic comments, I always have to listen to that, and try to create a nice image of gay people to them, but it seems impossible, although they all say that if they had a gay friend, there would be no problem, so that sometimes encourages me to come out to them, but that won’t happen for a very long time.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Chris Allen Mason

I grew into a young man in the upper/middle class suburb of Houston, Texas known as Clear Lake City. Home of NASA’s Johnson Space Center. My dad scored an amazing job with a NASA sub-contractor at the beginning of the Space Shuttle program so we re-located from Hershey, PA. I never really encountered much true hate living in PA. It was the 70′s, people were less afraid of each other, and my life as I remember it was pretty normal and stress free. Yeah there were bullies in the neighborhood that effed with me but nothing out of the elementary school norm for the time really. But even then I knew I wasn’t like the other guys in the hood.

Upon arriving in Texas, I was quickly introduced to racism. New concept for me. Apparently it was not cool to hang with guys like my friend Scott. Huh? Since I could remember two of my mother’s and father’s closest friends were an interracial couple as I recall, the Johnsons. It was a confusing concept. White folks can’t hang with “black” folks? Um, HUH? Well FML. So, I found myself agreeing to stay in with the kids. Any kids really. Today, I’d be like WAIT A MINUTE NOW. But back then I was like 10. WTF did I know?

So, the Masons settled in, got a house, and got on with our new lives in the South. By 6th grade I had already had my first sexual experience with another guy. It wasn’t until 8th grade that I lost my virginity with a girl. Even then I was totally cool liking both boys and girls. But it was not until high school that EVERYTHING changed. The signs were there long before 9th grade but I was not yet awake as a human being. Not awake enough to know who or what I thought I might actually be. High school in Clear Lake was a thing. A total thing. Parts are blurry, parts are crystal clear. There is tons I remember, tons I do not. Part of that may be because of previous drug use or just selective recall.

I actually started getting crap for being different in 7th grade. By 7th I had already pierced both ears, was bleaching my hair, and being 100% belligerent to anyone who questioned me. No big surprise that when 9th grade came around I fell into the “new romantic” and “punker” crowd. The PIBs. Where I met my first true gays. Well one true gay at first — the late and magnificent Greg Cherry.  He was fearless and flawless. I first met him at Boy Scout Camp the summer before I started high school. We immediately became friends and I was totally stoked to learn we would be in high school together. I really was in love with him from the get go. What a soul. No, that never happened between us. Not that kind of love. Not that I remember. But what Greg did fill me up with was inspiration. He inspired me to be true to myself no matter what. To explore. To discover. And to give anyone who disagreed with or disapproved of us the finger.

At our high school the bullies were widespread. Greg, myself, and all of our buds endured a crap ton of abuse and hate because we had decided to be ourselves. We were a pretty tight bunch for a while there. Even today I still speak to many of my old mates — Carol, Pat, Kim, Ingrid, Kris, Andrea, Michelle and others. Thank the gods for Facebook. Ya know, even the girls got sh*t. It came from both sides. Some just for being friends with “the fags” and others for just being themselves. My dear departed friend Greg had his face smashed in at one point. It was a HATE CRIME. He was beaten down because he was was out, and had no shame. He was so brave. I miss Greg. He was a soldier.

My suffering was never as severe as Greg’s, but it sucked regardless. The running, the hiding, the holding my breath because if they hear me they’ll beat the sh*t out of me (again). That crap got old. My crowd offered an easy escape from the feelings that this torture brought to my head. The cigarettes, drugs and alcohol were all way cool and fun but it was the music and nightclubs I was brought to that really made an impact on me. It was all about the dance floor. I felt completely safe there. For that one moment — high as a kite and dancing my ass off — I completely forgot about Clear Lake City and all of the bullsh*t our peers insisted we go through. About how when I walked through a crowd at school I was pushed, shoved, and called a faggot. Didn’t matter if we went to Numbers or one of the city’s many alternative lifestyle teen clubs  I loved to dance. I remember sneaking out of the house when my folks would head off to the symphony at sunset and returning at sun-up. But once Monday came around and I was back at Clear Lake High, it became all too real once again.

I remember running for my life. Being chased by guys in cars who wanted blood. I remember learning that when thrown at a 7-11 window by the quarterback, I bounce. Walking home from school was always a challenge too. I had to find creative ways to not be seen. I would walk down the bayou behind the school, cut through apartment complexes and people’s yards, and skirt along the edges of the golf course to get to my home. Yeah, it sucked. But I rapidly became awesome at sneaking off campus so cutting class became way easy and habit forming. Because even the staff at the school gave me sh*t. Some of the teachers and principles really had it out for me. Eventually, and in an honestly short amount of time in the bigger picture of things, I got fed up with being pushed around. I had been in rehab twice and the only thing it offered was an escape from my troubles on the streets. I had run away from home a few times too. Today I know what I was running from, back then nobody got it. Not even my shrinks. So, I dropped out of high school. And when I left Clear Lake City I pretty much never looked back. Time and distance became one. Eventually I lost contact with my crew. Made new friends. Found new troubles. I’ll never forget my last day of school. Ingrid was there. We got in trouble for PDA — because we hugged. Those fuckers just had to get the last word.

My point of this long-winded story is that I, like so many other GLBT youth, was bullied. Sometimes for just being different and other times for being who I was, a young bisexual man. Pushed into a corner, I made some rash choices and consider myself WAY LUCKY to be alive to tell the tale. I thought about suicide several times as well. To escape the pain I hid inside. Even tried it unsuccessfully later on in life. Good thing I f*cked that up. For a guy who never thought he’d ever see 30, he is loving his 40′s.

I feel for today’s GLBT youth. I think the pressure they are under in this time and age is much greater than what was going on the 80′s. As adults we think that gay, bisexual, and transgendered youth are more accepted by society today but by their peers it appears nothing has changed. Just because we are represented on TV and in marketing out in the open doesn’t mean folks still like us. More do, but still too many do not. My heart goes out to these kids. These kids brave enough to be who they are. It ain’t easy. I know. I also know that ending it all forever is not an option. These kids have to choose life — or the bullies win. They need to know they are not alone.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Ethan Blustein

I came out at the age of 12 as gay. Even now I’m not sure where I got that word from or how I knew to say it or what it even meant for that matter. I also wasn’t completely sure in 6th grade who I was attracted to. For whatever reason it was clear to me that it was not an okay way to be. I know what it was like to come out as genderqueer/transgender at 26, but I can’t imagine knowing that about myself at 12…or did I? I digress…

It was a Saturday morning and I had just finished watching the morning cartoons on television while my mom read the paper. As we made the bed I took a breath and blurted out, “I need to tell you something.” I wasn’t sure what I was doing exactly or how this was going to go. She did tell me that I could talk to her about anything. I didn’t realize until much later that she didn’t mean that literally. So we put the blankets down and sat at the end of the bed. I braced myself and said, “Mom, I uh… in health class we talked about…I think I’m gay.” Immediately my face fell into my hands and I cried just waiting for the awful response to come. Instead it was a very mixed bag of, “Oh, honey, there’s nothing wrong with that.” to “Are you sure?” to “Let’s not tell anyone else we talked about this.” 

It would be another 4 years before we’d have a conversation about me being bisexual. Another 2 years and then I would come out as queer and another 1 as a genderqueer/trans and queer person. Bless my mother’s dear heart and soul for hanging in there and still being in my life today.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Gregory Smith

I am bisexual in orientation, and married with children, and out. I grew up as an Air Force brat. We moved around a lot, but finally settled in Florida (my extended family is spread out from south Alabama to south Florida) when I was in 8th grade. I knew but could not admit to myself that I liked looking at big, muscular guys (I’ve always like jocks), and I could not deny that I kept looking at the men’s underwear section of the Sears Catalog! Isn’t that funny! Actually I’ve talked to a lot of other gay and bi guys and they have similar stories about that catalog…

I went through therapy in college trying to figure out my sexuality because I knew I was having experiences with both men and women, and according to society that meant I was gay.  Then I met and fell in love with my wife. So I told her about my orientation and she said that as long as I was dating only her it didn’t matter who I fantasized about and that is how it has been now for 24 years.

Only recently have I shared my orientation with my sons and the larger community. It has taken a great deal of anxiety away from me to do so, and I encourage other people to do so as well. I thought it would be a major problem and it has turned out to be a non-issue.

-(Share your story with us!)