Come out, cum in.
“If JJ weren’t gay, he’d be the hottest guy here,” a straight male dodgeballer admitted to two of my friends, last season.
Naturally, they ran over and told me immediately.
“What?” I was perplexed, but not offended. “That doesn’t even…What?”
However nonsensical, no supposedly heterosexual man or woman talks about someone of the same sex in that sense unless they have their eye pressed up against the keyhole of the closet door.
Yet, as any homosexual will tell you, coming out is an exceptionally unique and personal process. High school bullies are bound to try to expedite it through force and ridicule. And well-meaning friends and family may attempt to usher us along with thinly veiled references to the levels of support we can expect to receive. But no matter the deluge of derision or compassion, it is only after we accept ourselves that we may finally move forward.
Once he takes a step in that direction, I’ll surely be open to letting him take me every which way. Judging from the paperback romance novel-worthy superlatives I have already heard ascribed to his South Pole – I would be remiss not to.
Consider it research for my own salacious literary endeavors.
You’re welcome.
