In elementary school, my best friend and I used to find each other for kissing. Later on, I told her but she refused to tell me. Now, being her girlfriend, she told me it was a kiss and that we were so alike we could be together, but I didn’t believe her. Then in middle school, a girl in the class wanted to date me. We talked it out for a while but we still didn’t see eye to eye. Then I told her and she told me I couldn’t like her because she was gay. We had a fight and I kicked her out of the school. I thought she was stupid for thinking she could be with me. In high school, I started to date girls and I was starting to think I was gay. It wasn’t until I was in college that I was finally able to tell a girl I liked. Then in college, the girl I was dating for the last three years, broke up with me. I did not blame her for it and thought she did it on purpose.
The last time I was in a place where I could be told that I was wrong for being gay, I was a freshman at a very liberal university. I was one of the only openly gay students at the school. After about an hour of talking to friends, I walked out of the room, and when I came back in, I found my friend, who was sitting next to me, crying.
I asked him what was wrong and he told me that his girlfriend was crying in the other room, and she didn’t want to see him anymore because he was gay. I got angry and told him that I didn’t think he was gay, and he had told me that he was so happy to have finally found a girlfriend that he was crying because she made him feel bad about himself. I told him that we shouldn’t be together anymore.
I was shocked and asked him why he told me that. He told me that he did it because he was scared of what his parents would say. I said he should never tell his parents he was gay. He told me that he wanted me to understand why he did it. I said that I did not understand. He said he wasn’t able to talk to his parents and that it was easier to just tell me now.