Stories, Thoughts and Snippets
Leaving Home 1 Leaving Home 2 Leaving Home 3 Leaving Home 4
I had thought that as soon as I got to college my trouble would be over and my world would be dramatically changed forever. The fact of the matter was that it was hard, really damn hard just to get myself started. I'd known I was gay since I was thirteen, but I had been hiding it just as long, for self-preservation purposes, that opening that part of me up was about as comfortable a proposition as my skin turning inside out. There were listings for gay clubs and organizations, but it was better than a month before I could bring myself to go.
I had told my roommate on the first day that I was gay, but that had been the extent of our discussion. He said it was cool, he was from L.A. he said that he knew a lot of gays, he joked that he could introduce me if I liked. I laughed, but I was terrified that he might try to set me up. I was going to need to ease into this. Sometimes in class I would catch myself quickly turning my head away whenever my gaze began to linger on a boy, I had to force myself to look back and focus on him until I had absorbed my fill of him. It can be a surprisingly hard thing to let yourself have what you want.
On the telephone I told my mother that I was always going to be gay. She said ok, but that I should come home for thanksgiving by myself. I hadn't spoken to my father since I pulled out of the driveway. He had shook my hand, and wished me luck.
The first time I got lucky was on the same day as the first time I went to the fittingly if unfortunately named "Rainbow Connection." A group of about ten of us met in the lounge at the student union, and for about fifteen minutes we talked about what it was like being gay in college. I didn't say anything. After about fifteen minutes someone suggested we reconvene in a bar across the street. I said that I wasn't twenty-one and was informed that it wouldn't matter at this place, they didn't worry about little details like that.
I bought my first beer and could not believe that people drank that piss. Claim to enjoy it even. I didn't think that I could afford to look naive so I choked it down and tried to avoid grimacing. A junior named Morris laughed as he slid onto the stool next to me. He ordered a screwdriver from the bartender even though he already had a cocktail in his hand.
"Try this," he said, "you'll like it a lot better."
It didn't take many of those to get me pretty sloppily drunk, and it was embarrassingly early in the evening when Morris suggested we go back to his apartment and I was embarrassingly quick to agree. I made an attempt to act as though I knew what I were doing by kissing him first, but it didn't take long for him to realize that the truth was otherwise.
"Have you ever done this before?" He asked me as he lie on top of me, straddling me. I shook my head to indicate no.