I'm Gay

Words I said to Johnny yesterday afternoon.

Barely missing a beat, he replied, “thank you for that information.”

Lawyerly reticence—do they teach it in law school, or does it just develop over the years?

“Well, do you have an issue with it?”

I had to know.

“Nope,” he said, completely casually, “other stuff about you, I have an issue. Being gay is no problem.”

Well, two can be reticent just as well as one.

I don’t go there….

Besides, I know perfectly well what he was thinking. My sartorial sense—or maybe no sense or nonsense. Don’t know.

And don’t care. You got an old horse blanket in the barn? Send it along, I’ll wear it to the next gala at the Met.

John? He combs his hair before going to sleep….

Well, it had been a melancholy morning, there on the beach with Franny and Dido. Mental health dictated a tuna sandwich at the café. And that’s where I heard that it was National Coming Out Day.

Right. Wanted some coffee, so I asked Gayla if it really was Coming Out Day.

“Yeah,” she said.

“OK,” I said, “I’m gay.”

“So am I,” she said.

A fact about as obvious as her skin color….

“Right,” I said.

Five hours later.

“Shoot, we forgot that it’s National Coming Out Day,” says Raf at the computer. And then plays a clip—a guy talking about how we have to come out to everyone.

“Our parents,” he says

Check!

“Our children….”

N/A.

“Our bosses…”

Came out to Susan Chambers, the Executive Vice President for Human Resources at  Wal-Mart Inc….

I don’t have to go on, do I?

I passed the test. Which is why, yesterday, I realized there’s pretty much nobody in my life, however marginal, to whom I could come out.

Yes, even the cashier at the supermarket.

Once, Webster came to visit us. He’s gay, he’s a wonderful viola de gambist (making that up, but you’ll tell me if I’m wrong, right?), and likes bacalao. So there we were, and the cashier who has never been anything but sunny and cheerful is completely flat.

“I’m totally worried about Inés,” I say to Raf. “She just wasn’t the same in the grocery store today….”

What was wrong?

I realized the next day. Raf and Webster and I were walking past the grocery store, and I glanced in to see Inés at the register. Then it hit.

“Come in to the store, I gotta see something.”

“We don’t need anything…”

“Not the point.”

Reach for a package of gum, stand in line, and tell Raf to introduce Webster to Inés.

“Ay mi’jo, ¡mucho gusto!” she beams, and gives him a kiss!

Moral—don’t bring your tricks into the grocery store! This is a respectable establishment.

That might be the real point of coming out. It’s not just that staying in the closet leads to a double life, shame, a message you don’t want to give yourself. Coming out puts you on the social and emotional map. It grounds you, places obligations on you—even in a place as trivial as a grocery store.

By the way, today is International Coming Out Day. So for the 27 people from the UK, 14 from Russia, 9 from Trinidad and Tobago (think I know who those are!), 6 from Germany, 4 from Canada, 4 from France, 3 from Gabon (gonna have to look that up—sorry), and 2 from Bangladesh who have visited the blog this week….

…I’m gay.

By the way, I had figured that, with no one left to come out to, I might just as well start the thing over again…..