I Knew I Was Gay When...

 
When did I know? Well, when I was 11, it seemed like all the boys around me started talking about sex in graphic terms almost overnight. Maybe there was talk before this and I just wasn’t included in the discussions or I didn’t notice. About the same time, I started engaging in sex play with a boy who lived near me. At first it was, more or less, show and tell, but there was some touching, too. (Later it became much more involved.) We talked about sex, got naked with each other, touched each other, and he had access to his older brother’s porn stash--mostly Playboy mags, but also Hustler and Penthouse. (Later he found more graphic material.)

Puberty, the sex talk, the magazines, and the sex play got my imagination going, and I started having sexual fantasies. At first I imagined doing things with girls. But the funny thing is, I never imagined being alone with a girl. My early sexual fantasies involved one girl who was basically nameless and faceless, and a bunch of guys from school. I would do things with her as the guys watched, and then I would watch them do things with her. This went on for a while, but I soon realized that I was more interested in my male classmates than this shadowy girl figure, and I eventually started allowing myself to have sex fantasies about the guys without bothering to include a girl.

Even back in the mid ’70s at age 11, I knew what it meant to be gay, and I can remember sitting on our back porch by myself thinking things through. I put it together that day. I admitted to myself that I liked guys. Guys turned me on. Guys were hot. I wanted sex with guys. And I wasn’t interested in girls. The pictures I had seen of girls in Playboy were beautiful, but they were not sexy to me. I liked what those pictures did to my friend more than I liked the girls in the pictures. I liked it when he got randy and took out his willie. I liked it when he invited me to touch him. And that afternoon when I was alone on the back porch I accepted that this meant I was gay.

I quietly and privately adopted the gay label for myself that day. It was a little scary, but it was also thrilling. I wouldn’t tell another living soul for seven more years that I was gay. That was the hardest part, being so young, figuring out this important thing about myself, and not having anybody to talk to. And not only didn’t I have anyone to talk to, I knew I had to keep it a secret. I couldn’t trust anyone with this information.

I’m glad I had someone to fool around with in those first few years right after my sexual awakening, but it was all about sex and experimentation for my friend. We cuddled a few times, which was super nice, but never kissed or held hands. We never talked about our feelings for each other. Then before we got to high school, he turned on me, he became frightened that what we were doing was queer, and the physical intimacy ended.

So now when I think of those years, I can’t help but recall the crushing loneliness and the fear of being found out. But when I realized I was interested in boys and men, I relished it. Even though I had to keep it all to myself, I still loved it. It was who I was. It was something I was sure of. And I totally and completely embraced it right from the start.