Kevin Pearson offers his "coming out" story Gay 101 I currently live in Rochester, NY. I'm a consultant for a leading provider of customer relationship management (CRM) solutions. My job has provided me the opportunity to travel extensively and see the world. I've made many friends in the most beautiful places. I love to read. Many of my favorite books were recommendations from the Newsletter. I also enjoy movies and a little photography on the side.

The first thing my best friend said when I told her I was gay was "are you serious"? I guess I could understand her reaction, considering I waited until I was 32 to come out. In her attempt to help (cough, cough, “control”) the situation, she took me to a book store and bought me a book called Gay 101, How to Be Gay. I was confused at the time but I didn’t feel I needed to start with the basics. It was worth the read and definitely amusing, instructing me on what music and movies I should be intimately familiar with as well as which Hollywood Gods and Goddesses I was expected to worship. I’m not sure why I waited until I was 32 to make my announcement to the world. It all happened four years ago when I was in NYC over Thanksgiving weekend with an on again off again girlfriend. We were enjoying our visit, walking around Time Square on our last day there. We saw a lighted neon sign for a psychic on the second floor in a building off Broadway. She thought it would be fun to hear what the “Soothsayer” (southern girl lingo) would say. We were buzzed in and walked into the hallway. It wasn’t what I would call safe looking and I thought we should exit immediately, if not faster. An elderly woman looked over the stair railing and said come on up, so we did. She and I cautiously entered the apartment. I sat in the woman’s living room, watching MTV with her grandchildren and someone I assumed to be her son, while my friend sat in the kitchen, with only a set of drapes between us. About 20 minutes later, my friend poked her head through the curtains and asked if I was ready. I didn’t feel the need to paint my palms red, so we left. She was unusually quiet on the walk back to the hotel. When I asked what the psychic told her, she said it was personal and that she couldn’t tell me. Being the ever curious person that I am, I couldn’t let it go. I was going crazy not knowing and continued to ask her about it. By the time we got back to the room, she finally gave in and agreed to tell me. She sounded serious. I remember sitting in a chair by the open window, with the sounds and lights of 42nd Street filling the dark room. She was lying on the bed, hugging a pillow and looking very anxious. I told her it was okay and that she could tell me anything. As I said that, I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that said my life was about to change forever. The psychic had told her many things but most importantly, the man in the other room was her soul mate and that he was the person she was going to spend the rest of her life with. I didn’t know what to say. The only thing I could bring myself to say was, “oh”. My whole life I‘d come up with many excuses why things just wouldn’t “work out” in my relationships with women, except for the most obvious one of course. I was quiet for several minutes and didn’t say a word. Tears suddenly filled my eyes. I knew I couldn’t lie anymore. I took a deep breath and just said it out loud, “I’m gay”. I think she saw it as a panicked reaction to what she had told me and that I was making it up to avoid discussing “us”.  I felt like I was breathing for the first time. We spent hours talking through it. A huge burden had been lifted and I was more open with her about my life than I had ever been with anyone else. The words just flew from my mouth. She was very supportive that night, realizing that she was the first person I had ever told. We even joked about the waiter that was flirting with me at dinner later that night. That’s how amazing she was. The next day was a different story though. On the train home, she said that she wanted to sit alone so that she could sleep. I could hear her sobbing. Thinking back on it, I can’t believe what a selfish, insensitive person I was. She had invested two years in this relationship and really loved me. She was hurting and had lost everything. I had gained a new understanding of myself and was finally felt free to move on with my life. My shield was down for the first time ever. My only focus was on me and what this meant to me and how my life was going to change.  For all her support, I never once thought about her and how this was affecting her. When we said goodbye that day, it would be the last time we ever spoke or saw one another. I received an email a few days later saying that she needed time to think about things and that I shouldn’t contact her. She would contact me when she was ready. It’s been four years. I didn’t waste anytime that first day telling everyone I’d ever known about me. It seemed so strange that I’d never actually said it before that day. It’s not like I’d never had “encounters” with other men, but that is another story. For as long as I can remember, I had always known I was gay. Suddenly there was nothing wrong with it, nothing to be ashamed of. What was I waiting for all this time? I called up people I hadn’t spoken to in years. It was bizarre, but it just felt so good to finally say it and be the real me for a change. The first person I called was my mother. When I told her she simply laughed and said, “It’s about damn time”. My stepfather got on the phone and said that he loved me and would always support me no matter what. That completely blew me away. We thought it would be best if she called my father and broke the news to him. I was close with my father but for some reason, he was the one person I couldn’t bring myself to tell. I spoke to him a few days later and he was very supportive. I could hear how nervous and uncomfortable he was discussing the topic. He told me that he “had many um, ah, um… gay friends over the years”. He had a hard time saying that word. That was the only bumpy conversation we’ve ever had about it and he told me that he still does and would always love me. We never used the word love before that day, but we now use it every time we talk to each other. Everyone else I spoke to that day expressed their love and support for me. I had no idea at the time just how lucky I was. It turned out that this wasn’t my first outing. Unbeknownst to me, my mother was called into a parent teacher conference when I was in the sixth grade. My teacher told my mother that my behavior and mannerisms suggested I was possibly “going gay” and that she should seek psychiatric help for me “while there was still time”. My mother felt a sense of urgency, not sure what to do. I started seeing my first therapist at age 10. I felt like any other normal boy who just happened to be in love with the Bionic Man (had the comforter and matching curtains) and thought Shawn Cassidy was the greatest musician/mystery solver ever. I wasn’t sure why I was there. It was nice to have someone to talk to though and my therapist was really nice. Plus, he had great magazines in the waiting room, Teen Beat of course. Everything changed when Uncle Richard came to town. Uncle Richard left home when he was 17 and has been “out” ever since. He was an actor in Hollywood in the 50s and a pioneer for gay rights in the 60s and 70s in California. He has never had an issue with anyone knowing who he was or letting them know exactly what he thinks. When my mother told him about the meeting she had at the school and about my “therapy”, he completely lost it. He explained to my mother that IF I actually was gay, no amount of therapy was going to cure me. The only thing I required was the love and unyielding support of my family. Uncle Richard took my mother by the hand and marched down to the school, demanding to speak with the principal and my teacher, who he referred to as “that sorry excuse for an educator”. In the meeting he made it very clear that any mention of these unfounded suspicions were to be removed from my records immediately and that it was never to be mentioned again. I understand that his language was colorful and my teacher was in tears. Needless to say, I didn’t see my therapist again. Life went on as usual. Uncle Richard called me from London a few days after my coming out, when he finally got the news. He has lived there with his partner, Auntie Terry, for the past 15 years. He insisted I come over for a visit as soon as I could. Travel arrangements were made and I landed in London a few weeks later. It was an amazing week. We talked a lot about his life and the challenges he has had to face being an openly gay man, as well as the happiness and love he has found in doing so. We toured London and he introduced me to the gay culture there. I couldn’t believe my eyes as we walked through Soho. Gay couples walking down the street holding hands or kissing between sips of coffee at little tables on the sidewalk outside the cafes. It was a very liberating experience and I felt like I fit in and belonged somewhere for the first time. On my last night in London, he and Terry took me to the pub where they had met all those years ago. We were enjoying ourselves drinking a few pints and looking through some of the gay publications they had there for our reading pleasure. The bar looked like a typical English pub, only smaller and a little quieter than I had imagined it would be. I didn’t think twice until I noticed several men disappearing behind a door. Where were they going? I asked Uncle Richard about it and he suggested I take a look. Terry simply shook his head with a slight smirk on his face. I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I self-consciously opened the door and took a peek. I was surprised to see a narrow staircase leading to a lower level. As I made my way down, I had to walk by several men just standing on the stairs, having to brush against each of them as I went. I started to panic. I wasn’t sure if I should continue down, uncertain what would be waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. The former shielded me would have turned and ran back up the stairs but I decided to continue and experience life for a change. As I turned the corner, I was surprised by the size of the lower level. It was twice as big as the upstairs was, with two bars and three times as many men. There were colored lights everywhere with a few disco balls hanging over a small dance floor. I could feel the music. It was loud and thumping. I went to the first bar and got a drink. I found a good spot against the wall, taking in my new environment, not sure where all of this would lead. That is when I saw him. He was across the dance floor from me. He looked to be about my age, simply gorgeous. As I was admiring his dark stylish hair and piercing blue eyes, I suddenly noticed that he was looking right at me, more like staring right through me. I immediately looked away. This was all new to me. What should I do? I decided to take a chance and look up. Thankfully he was still there and still looking right at me. I still can’t believe what happened next. He started walking across the floor directly towards me. I took such a deep breath that I thought I might pass out. This was it. My mind was a complete jumble. My body was literally shaking. He walked right up to me and put out his hand and introduced himself as Evan. With only a few words from him, I lost myself in his voice and his accent. I started thinking, Kevin and Evan, good name combination, Kevin and Evan did this, yeah, this could work, or Kevin and Evan are coming over. When his hand grasped mine, firmly, tenderly, my mind suddenly stopped its insane banter. It wasn’t the typical hello, nice to meet you, up and down handshake. It was more meaningful and familiar. Our hands seemed to melt together, as if they were one. He continued to hold my hand as I told him my name. For what seemed like forever, he held my hand as we looked into each others eyes. The moment was electric. Was this really happening to me? It seemed so unreal. It was as if we were the only two people there. Everyone else was a blur and I couldn’t hear the music anymore. That is when it happened, he kissed me. He slid his hand up past my cheek and behind my head, pulling me towards him. It was all in slow motion. Without even thinking, our eyes closed and his lips touched mine. It was as if we were the last two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that finally just fit together. It was my first real kiss. I felt as if I had known him my whole life. The kiss was slow, long and perfectly timed. When we finally broke apart, we slowly opened our eyes. We both had a look of longing, making sure the other was still there and that it was all really happening. He smiled at me, making my heart race, as I quickly shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. He asked me where I was from and what I did for a living. He was a starving artist who painted houses for a living. He asked if I was interested in meeting him for breakfast the next morning. I suddenly felt true happiness, a joy I’d never known. I smiled bigger than ever before. I was going to see him again. It felt so right. This wasn’t going to end here. It was then that I realized I was leaving early the next morning. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I suddenly came back to earth. The music seemed to have gotten louder than it was before. I noticed that there were people standing all around us, most of them staring at us. I told him I really wanted to see him again but that I had to fly home the next morning and be back at work the day after that. When I saw the look of disappointment on his face, my mind started spinning. I wanted to do whatever I could to see that smile again. How could I leave now? Have I’ve found what I had been searching for my whole life? Is he the one? Could I really be feeling this already? I’d only just met him. He looked at me again and smiled. I think he saw the wheels of my mind turning, trying to find a way work this out. We had this moment and didn’t want it to end. He kissed me again, more deeply than before. Our hands explored each other’s bodies. My knees were weak and we were burning up. I had never experienced such a longing before. The world around us vanished once again. As Evan kissed my neck, I did something really stupid, I opened my eyes. The world came crashing back to me, only this time, there was a familiar face. Auntie Terry was standing there, his jaw dropped and eyes huge. I saw him, thinking I should be embarrassed but all I could do was smile. He turned on his heels and quickly headed up the stairs. That seemed like my cue to go. It was late and I had an early flight. Unsure of what to do, how to end this perfect moment, I simply held Evan’s face in my hands, kissed him and said I was sorry but that I had to go. He was disappointed but that he understood. I told him goodbye and flew up the stairs. Terry was already gone. Uncle Richard still sitting where I had left him, with a cheshire grin on his face. He said that he heard I was putting on quite a show downstairs and said it was late and we should go. On the tube ride home, I suddenly realized that Evan and I hadn’t exchange numbers or even our email addresses. It all happened so fast. What were we thinking? Were we destined to see each other again? It couldn’t be the end! What would Kevin and Evan be doing next? I was packed and ready to go early the next morning. I thanked Uncle Richard and Terry for a great time and said I would be back as soon as I could. As I stood there outside the terminal, I looked around, stupidly thinking that Evan would realize we had no way of contacting each other and show up to see me one last time, giving me a one of those classic Hollywood endings and kiss me goodbye. Needless to say, it didn’t happen. I boarded my plane and thought about him the entire flight home, with a big goofy grin on my face. It felt like love to me. I decided not to torture myself with what couldn’t be and move on, remembering that intense moment we shared. I don’t know why it took me so long to come out. There are no rules. I guess everyone comes out in their own time, when they are ready. My journey had only just begun. The support of my friends and family made the process easier for me. I only wish the other’s I’ve heard about could have been so lucky. I recently heard that the girl-friend from NYC was now happily married. I still feel guilty about the way I took her for granted, but I was happy to hear that she had moved on and started a new life. I never intended on hurting her the way I did. I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing her soon. She and I were both named Godparents to our friend’s baby, the ones who introduced us. Interesting choice in Godparents if you ask me.  I’m not sure what it will be like to see her again. I hope she will allow me to apologize for the way I treated her and that she can find a way to forgive me. As for Evan, we ran into each other a few years later through an unbelievable twist of fate… but that’s a whole other story.

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