I’ve actually posted this before, but you’ll read a section here about that. I fully believe that coming out is a process, and not a one-time thing. It’s been interesting, and I hope you get something out of my story. If not, be nice and pretend, LOL. 
Okay…here goes.
I knew I was different. All the boys wanted to play kickball, but I was perfectly fine hanging out with the girls around a tree in our schoolyard. I was in charge of our kitchen in the make-shift house we created. I remember the sting one particular day when a boy was walking by and said if I moved I was gay. I had no idea what he was talking about. As I asked him, he laughed and shouted, “Joe’s gay!” We, at the “house” didn’ t know what that meant. Finally, my best friend Noah came up and said he heard what the boy said. He explained that’s when a boy likes another boy. I still didn’t comprehend what he was talking about.
I sometimes had to go to Noah’s house afterschool because our moms worked together, and his dad would take us to his house and then my mom would pick me up there when they got off work. That day, we ventured into the woods where they had a treehouse. Noah and I climbed up and talked like we normally did. We normally talked about video games (which was about the time when the first Nintendo came out), but this day, he wanted to talk about what that boy said. I told him I didn’t understand it. He then exposed his “private area,” and told me to touch it and see if it felt like mine. I, not knowing any better, did and said it felt the same. This happened everyday for the next couple of days.
One day, we were in the treehouse and I was feeling of him when we heard his father. He caught me touching him and I was told to get out of the treehouse and return to his house. I didn’t see Noah the rest of the day. At school the next day, he wouldn’t talk to me because he wasn’t allowed to be friends with gay people.
Skip forward to Middle School…or Junior High, if you prefer. My friend George and I were close. We would hang out after school at his house. One day, we had a school basketball game. I hated going, but it was an excuse to get out of class. We were in the gym, and we were goofing off. George told us that he would be pressed in the testicles and not feel any pain. (Meaning we would press our fists into his crotch until he said stop.) It was my turn to press. I started pressing and no pain. I pressed harder. Then, I felt him get an erection. Instead of being scared, I started to get an erection to. He said something along the lines that his “steel bar” was protecting him. I remember that night thinking I was doing something wrong that I got a “steel bar” from feeling his.
In eighth grade, I arrived at school to find the word “FAG” written on my locker. People were staring at me. I didn’t know what to do. Someone had broken my lock and inside my lock were images of two men having sex. Then, I heard a voice behind me say, “Hey Faggot!” I turned around and this large kid picked up a desk and hurled it at me. It nearly broke my arm. I called my mom and told her I was sick and I needed to go home. She came and got me.
The following is something I’ve NEVER shared with anyone. I feel that you never know what people need to read to bring some light to their darkness…
The next month or so later, I thought people had forgotten about it. We were changing for gym and I saw most of the guys leave. I wasn’t done yet, but I heard someone lock the door to the gym, preventing me from getting out. A group of 4 guys (including the large thug that throw the desk) cornered me. They made all the other guys leave, as one guy relocked the door behind them. I tried to leave too, but they shoved me down, and one of the boys covered my mouth so I couldn’t scream. Another one of the boys yanked my shorts and my underwear down. They held me stomach down and then spread my legs apart. The guy that locked the door then pulled a stick out of his bag and proceeded to shove it up inside me. I remember the pain and the embarrassment and the shame of it all. I was so scared that they were going to hurt me more, so I just took it. Finally, they heard a knock on the door and heard keys shuffle. They drug me into the shower area and forced my pants back on and told me that if I ever told, they would hurt me worse. The gym teacher finally opened the door with his keys and the boys were acting like they were finishing up changing. He saw me all dishoveled and scared and he told me to step it up and get out for gym. I remember in gym class the boys were laughing because I was bleeding. They pointed it out to the rest of the class and, of course, they giggled. The teacher told me to suck it up and do my exercises.
All of those experiences cemented the fact that I didn’t want anyone to find out that I may be gay. I would brag about buying Playboys and other mags. The truth was, I knew I was attracted to guys and not girls.
In high school, I would try to get girlfriends thinking I could force the gay out of my life. In 1995, I became a Christian. I would pray and pray that God would take away the feelings for men. It would never work, and I would do anything I could to prove I was straight. I met a girl named Bridget and she became my girlfriend. (For that funny story, search Big Red Story on this blog). She eventually broke up with me because I wouldn’t sleep with her.
Trying to be a good Christian took most of my time. I completely surrendered my time to the church. I was in the drama team, the choir, and I attended two days a week. I was a good southern baptist. I graduated and knew I was going to Carson-Newman College, a southern-baptist liberal arts school. I was a theatre major and I was in the choir. In 2001, I became a licensed minister. I was sure that I would be able to rid my homosexual feelings that way.
It never worked.
I graduated in 2002 from college and started working for the school. Three years later, I befriended a new student named Will. He was gay, and I was finally comfortable being around gay people.
On January 28, 2006, I told Will that I was gay and that I was ready to live that life. My mom and sister know and have loved me regardless. I have friends that stood by me, at first. Then, they were very mean to me. I felt like that middle schooler in the locker room all over again. I finally quit working for the school in December 2006.
I started working at a theme park in October 2006 and continued to work there after I left the school. In March 2008, I was called into a meeting and was written up for my myspace acknowledging my employer and for admitting my homosexuality. In May 2008, I quit because I was so bitter for being written up.
I lost my virginity in the Summer of 2008, and that was nice.
My boyfriend and I ended things in August 2008. In September 2008, I was so scared that I couldn’t find a job and I was hurt from the break-up, that I had a moment of crisis. I decided that I was miserable and it was all because I came out. I convinced myself that all my baptist upbringing was right. I was living in sin and I needed to rid myself of it. I started to rid myself of all things gay. My music, my movies, my magazines. EVERYTHING. I deleted all my old MySpace blogs. I distanced myself from my gay friends. I started contacting old friends that I knew were “disappointed” with my “decision” to be gay. They were all loving and supportive. Now, looking back, I’m pretty pissed that they weren’t loving before.
A great friend of mine, Brandi, (pictured above) reminded me that I’m who I am, and I’m special. I shouldn’t be worried about impressing people that honestly don’t love and care for me.
I’ve come back out now, and I’m finally happy. I know this was a disconnected coming out story, but it’s all the major points, lol. Any questions, you can leave a comment, and I’ll respond. 
