Well, it is almost midnight, I am lying in bed (alone), listening to Ryan Huston and thinking about the book I just finished reading called, “When I Knew”. It is a compilation of very short stories written by famous people when they first discovered they were gay. It is pretty funny and I highly recommend it to anybody. But, it made me think, “When did I first know?”
I think my Mom first knew something was up very early on. We were taking a family vacation cross country to visit relatives. It was one of those typical family vacations; a family of five loaded into a ’64 Lincoln Continental Convertible with suicide doors and sky blue interior. It really was a fabulous car especially driving through rural Tennessee where we got all kinds of looks with all of us wearing sunglasses and sporting the California plates.
We stopped for a bathroom break at a small town general store and there they were! The most awesome pair of bright red leather shoes and I had to have them. They were fabulous and very close to the shoes Dorothy wore. I threw a major tantrum (mind you I was like 4) and ended up getting them. I just knew I would be the envy of every sensible boy on this side of the country. I wore them constantly. From then on, I am told, I always had to have my clothes just right. By 6 I decided I preferred French cuffs over the standard ones and my belt and shoes always had to match. Yeah, Mom figured it early on, but I still had no clue; I mean, wasn’t every boy like this?
A few years later, when I was about 8, I discovered the boy down the street. His name was Donny. We played many of the games that boys of that age play and we even included his little sister at times. One day we found ourselves playing “Dare” – we didn’t care about truth much, we just wanted to dare each other to do things. It wasn’t much longer before we were pulling down our pants and looking at each other. For me, I had no eyes for his sister who was playing right along with us. I had eyes only for Donny.
By this time I started to realize that I had to keep some of my opinions to myself. I still made sure I looked good before I went to school, but not so much that I would stand out and get teased. I still didn’t know I was gay per say, I just knew I was different.
By 10 or 11, I knew I liked boys. It wasn’t long before I could figure out who the other boys were like me. They weren’t always the stereo typical fem, non-athletic boys; it was just a gut feeling I would get and I learned to trust it. I knew. I still had no name for it, but I knew.
I think my Mom first knew something was up very early on. We were taking a family vacation cross country to visit relatives. It was one of those typical family vacations; a family of five loaded into a ’64 Lincoln Continental Convertible with suicide doors and sky blue interior. It really was a fabulous car especially driving through rural Tennessee where we got all kinds of looks with all of us wearing sunglasses and sporting the California plates.
We stopped for a bathroom break at a small town general store and there they were! The most awesome pair of bright red leather shoes and I had to have them. They were fabulous and very close to the shoes Dorothy wore. I threw a major tantrum (mind you I was like 4) and ended up getting them. I just knew I would be the envy of every sensible boy on this side of the country. I wore them constantly. From then on, I am told, I always had to have my clothes just right. By 6 I decided I preferred French cuffs over the standard ones and my belt and shoes always had to match. Yeah, Mom figured it early on, but I still had no clue; I mean, wasn’t every boy like this?
A few years later, when I was about 8, I discovered the boy down the street. His name was Donny. We played many of the games that boys of that age play and we even included his little sister at times. One day we found ourselves playing “Dare” – we didn’t care about truth much, we just wanted to dare each other to do things. It wasn’t much longer before we were pulling down our pants and looking at each other. For me, I had no eyes for his sister who was playing right along with us. I had eyes only for Donny.
By this time I started to realize that I had to keep some of my opinions to myself. I still made sure I looked good before I went to school, but not so much that I would stand out and get teased. I still didn’t know I was gay per say, I just knew I was different.
By 10 or 11, I knew I liked boys. It wasn’t long before I could figure out who the other boys were like me. They weren’t always the stereo typical fem, non-athletic boys; it was just a gut feeling I would get and I learned to trust it. I knew. I still had no name for it, but I knew.
Posts
thanks for sharing that story i always love hearing people tell about how they felt and how they knew if you go back in my blog you can see mine. i also sent you an email and ill send another later.
ReplyDeleteI love your blog. I saw your comment on Ryan's blog and I'm going to link to you.
ReplyDeleteWhen I Knew is quite a fun little book. I've been (very) slowly recounting stuff like that on my blog. Geez, I do need to do another chapter on that, so to speak.
ReplyDeleteAccording to my dad, I cried if I got dirt on my shoes when I was small.