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The next day, he handed me a manila envelope full of bible verses. He expressed how much he loved me and was adamant that neither he nor my mom thought any different of me now. Then she said, “You should really talk to your dad.” And she left for work.Ī few days later, I worked up the courage to sit down with my dad, and I came out to him. Then one day, as my mother was leaving for work, she turned to me and simply said, “You know we know, right?” My heart dropped. I had a fun, quiet life in Orange County while taking any moment I could to drive up to LA to see my city friends. When I moved back in with my parents, I got two jobs to pay my bills, threw a little bit of rent their way and saved up to move out again. There was only one problem, at this point – Istill wasn’t out to my parents. I would move back in with them to get back on my feet once I was finished with the tour. I was going on tour again and figured that it was better to ship my stuff back to my parent’s house than to pay rent for a place where I wouldn’t physically be. But I felt like it was time to head back to sunny California. Somerville was a college town, which meant it was overrun with gays and open-minded intellectuals that never questioned who I was.Īfter four years in Massachusetts, I had collected a beautiful array of queer friends, signed a record deal, touring multiple times, and enjoying many fun days, getting snowed in with friends. We eventually broke up, but I spent four out and proud years in Massachusetts, never having to come out to anyone. My suppressed soul knew deep down that I just had to get the hell out of conservative Orange County. Her old roommates happened to have her room open again, and when she proposed the idea of moving, I jumped on it. Sometime after, we moved to Somerville, Massachusetts, where she had lived once before.
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We would take refuge by driving up to LA and going to MILK at Fais Do Do , a lesbian-run club with ping pong tables and loud music, where we knew no one. My mom questioned me about our relationship, but I denied it. I never brought her around any of my old friends. Thankfully, I quickly moved on and never looked back. In the midst of my eye-opening, whirlwind bliss, I mourned.
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I mourned what I assumed would never be from then on: no surfer dude husband, no white picket fence, no family or community support. That was the exact moment I came out to myself, and in that moment, I mourned. As the connection got stronger and more real, I finally knew what this meant. One day after she left, I sat outside of the store and reeled. She visited a few times, and we would take my breaks together. She looked different than anyone I had ever seen before and had an air of worldly and accomplished energy that you just don’t find in the kids of southern Orange County. There was something immediate and unspoken about my connection with her. The second clue was about a year after high school, working at Wherehouse when my lesbian coworker’s female friend, newly back in town, came to visit her on a day that I also happened to be working. Because then he couldn’t see me shrinking into my seat as my face turned red and my stomach did somersaults.
#GAY SEX STORIES YOUNG TEEN MOVIE#
He kept falling asleep, and I would nudge him awake, saying “dude, wake up, this movie is so funny” – until it came to the romantic scenes between two women, and then I couldn’t be more grateful that he had fallen asleep. Wait, no – actually, my first clue was going to see the film But I’m a Cheerleader my senior year of high school in an empty movie theater with my friend, Sean. Even though I was raised very conservative Christian and identified that way, I never looked at her any different. One of my coworkers at the store, not much older than me, was an out lesbian with a very serious girlfriend who she called her wife. I never really thought much about sexuality, except for when I fabricated crushes on my best guy friends like I thought I should. I was living in Orange County, where I was born and raised, working at Wherehouse Music in San Clemente, a now defunct record store chain like Tower Records.