Okay, my friend asked me to write my coming-out story, preferably funny, so that she could post it on this special web page that she told me about. Of course, I'm thinking, " Uhh, no, I don't have one. My mother was crying. It wasn't funny..." So, I don't have any beautiful, glowing, sunny, "my mother told me she loved me despite it" story, although she did tell me she still loved me (after she wanted me to pray with her), but I don't think my story is all that bad.
My name is Bruce Owen Boling. That's right. Ain't no shame here. You got my full name. I amoriginally from Shreveport, Louisiana, but when I came to Natchitoches, LA, in order to come toNorthwestern State University, I moved out of my family's house and am living on my own now. This is my third year here at NSU, and I've been to Xanadu and back. When I came in as a freshman, I'd never drank (or only twice, and I didn't drink to get drunk, so it doens't count!), I'd never smoked a cigarette or anything else that people inhale, and I'd decided to be straight for the rest of my life. Weeelll...things changed. I came out, started smoking pot, became an alcoholic,drug addict, played musical jobs, finally lost a job instead of quitting, and wound up in rehab.
It took rehad to see that my self-destructive behavior was because I hadn't really accepted my homosexuality. I mean, my mind said, "Look, you know that you're gay and you can't help it. You're not wrong for doing this." However, I still felt like I shouldn't be doing those things. Hardcore fundamentalist Christian brainwashing cleanses deep. So, going into rehab was the best thing that ever happened to me. I got a change to just tell my mother straight up exactly how I felt and even had someone backing me up.
After I got out of rehab, I decided that I was just too happy about being gay to sit on my ass about it. That's why I started the Lambda Association here at NSU, the only lesbian-bi-gay group in Natchitoches. Oh yeah. I'm not only a client, I'm also the president. yeah, I've gotten THAT gay. Hell, when you're comfortable with it, there's not really anywhere that you can't go and scream, "Hey, I'm gay, and I'm proud!" I've even got a radio show at the campus radio station dedicated to dyke music, and yeah, I say that on the air.
I guess that is it. All the unhappiness and strife about it seems so long ago now. I've gone through so much SHIT with it and still come out happy. I get uneasy and stressed about myself when I talk to my mother sometimes, but I just take a deep breath and lay it all out. Usually she hears, decides not to respond, and changes the subject. So, I get across what I want to say and don't have to argue about it. At least, there's soemthing to be said for that.
Okay, I hope that's good enough. No real sign-off here. Just be happy with whatever you are, and if someone gives you shit, try to talk with them about it. They might just listen and try to undersatnd. But if they won't listen, fuck 'em. -- Bruce
I was 16 when I was outted by my mother. It was my sophomore year in high school and I had just told my friends about myself when a new kid showed up in school. It was love at first sight, I wanted so bad to have an excuse to at least talk to him. I mean, we're talking tall, blond short hair, blue eyes, slim build. Just perfect in my eyes although other people said he looked like a beanpole. It took me a couple of months of getting to know him and letting him get used to seeing me around before I actually got the nerve to tell him how I felt. I resorted to the famous "letter" approach. That night I wrote him a letter that bore all. I placed the note in my wallet so as not to loose it.
Later that night I was doing some homework from geometry when my mom came into the room, teary eyed, and said, "What did that letter mean?" At this I froze and responded, "What letter?" although for some reason I knew exactly what she was talking about. She then threw the letter and my wallet down in front of me. For one thing, I couldn't belive that my mom had actually dug through my wallet! Second I was so scared that I dare not challenge her on the subject. She proceeded with the "I will always love you" speech which I was kinda glad to hear. We talked, we cried, we huged. Since then my mom has slowly been recovering from a state of denial and is slowly starting to except that her son will never give her grandchildren. -- Dennis