What makes you squirm? What snatches you out of your element and makes you feel minuscule and powerless? Mine is something that has affected my life for the past six years. It has colored my perceptions of some people, it has affected my ability to socialize, it has ended some relationships, and it has quite possibly inhibited my ability to live to the fullest extent.

My daily heft is a question, “So, do you have a girlfriend?” How seemingly innocuous, you may think, but for me, it is anything but. It is a loaded question, one that has potential to lock me into a box. The worst part? I will often laugh and politely reply, “No,” because I’m afraid of what would happen if I told the truth, “No, I do not have a girlfriend, and if I did, he would be my boyfriend.”

In college, I fell into a bubble where I could be myself. Living in a semi-progressive metropolitan area affords that comfort. I became part of a community that was accepting, and more importantly, they put it on display. I could lie and say I was somehow brave and out as a young freshman, but on reflection, these people pulled me out. They faced bigotry head on even when they were unaware that I, still closeted at the time, was in their company. I felt safe, I was myself, and for the first time, I felt like I could be me without fear of ‘being discovered.’

I fell into the occasional stressful situation; being paired with a college roommate was always an event. My freshman year, I settled on safety by obscurity. I kept my personal life out of my own living quarters. When roommates were grooming and fretting over the weekly Friday grind of being presentable for the ladies, I was always intentionally elsewhere so that I could avoid “the lie.” If I didn’t say I was straight, I was being myself. I convinced myself that by all intents and purposes, I was out. My sophomore year, I opted for rooming with international students. It was a valuable choice; in one of my more serious moves, I confessed to a roommate that I was indeed gay. Everything was okay.

In 2012, my home-state of North Carolina put an amendment on the primary ballot to ban gay marriage (a second time).

Marriage between one man and one woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized in this State. This section does not prohibit a private party from entering into contracts with another private party; nor does this section prohibit courts from adjudicating the rights of private parties pursuant to such contracts.

The aforementioned group of wonderful friends were part of a large constituency of believers in basic human rights who actively fought against the legislation in North Carolina. Again, I felt safe. I felt safe enough to put campaign posters declaring my pro-rights view on the issue in my dorm room window overlooking a heavily-trafficked area of campus.

In one of my first doses of reality in young life, I realized how incredibly mistaken I was in believing Amendment 1 could not pass. It did and by 61% .

The week after ratification of the amendment, I visited my hometown in western North Carolina. I could not believe how many purportedly pro-traditional-family posters littered the streets. The bubble is sometimes just that, a bubble. I’m glad to have been fortunate enough to sometimes live within one.

The workplace is different from college life. You don’t always get to be selective about who you are around (welcome to reality), and the stakes are higher. In North Carolina and twenty eight other states, you can be fired for being gay. Your effectiveness as an employee depends on how others perceive you. For many, this depends on your abilities at the job. Time off with coworkers, be it at lunch or after-work drinks, is a time to relax. It is a time to practice the coveted “work-life balance.” The remark about an anniversary with one’s husband or wife is welcomed with congratulations. A breakup with a long-term partner is met with sympathy.

For me, these trains of topic loom as an impending catastrophe. I constantly calculate where the conversation is going. When the subject veers towards personal discussion, I swiftly correct it back to the mundane. “Have you been watching the World Cup? What are you doing for upcoming holidays? How about that company-wide email?” and we’re back on track.

Sometimes, it doesn’t work. “Do you have a girlfriend?” The question encroaches, it is impending, it is here, and like a deer in headlights, I respond, “No, I’m not dating anyone.” I shift in my seat, I laugh to make it okay. But I feel like an outsider; I am hiding something. You don’t know that I’ve been dating somebody for a year, or you don’t know that I just had a breakup. Rational or irrational, my fear exists.

In 2013, I attended two conferences as part of the Out for Undergrad Tech Conference at Facebook’s headquarters in Palo Alto. The keynote speakers, venture capitalist Amy Errett and technology journalist Kara Swisher, set me on the correct course. They talked about the importance of being who you truly are at work. Putting walls up doesn’t make you a better employee. Being in constant fear of being outed doesn’t improve your work ethic. The Bay Area is a wonderful place, and I tried to emulate it at the companies I work for in Raleigh, NC. Unfortunately, the Bay Area doesn’t represent my reality.

Few co-workers know that I attended a tech conference in Palo Alto focused on LGBT-QA issues. Today, when discussing a past trip to San Francisco that I had not yet given a reason for, he snidely asked if I was partying in the Castro District. I was caught off-guard. “Ha, funny,” I remarked. “You know what that is, right?” he smirked to a another co-worker. “No, what?” “The gay neighborhood.” All but one laughed.

I was in a box. I felt embarrassed, I felt beneath them, and I felt imprisoned.

This is one side of the coin. The other? When you asked me, “Are you dating any guy or girl,” it made my day. I told my friends about. I left work grinning. It was an opportunity for me to be open. Even if I didn’t take it, you let me know that there was a safe place at work and somebody there to talk to.

These issues prevail in my part of the eastern United States. I am glad that it is getting better elsewhere. Same-sex marriage is now legal in nineteen states. This thrills me, but don’t deceive yourself. We haven’t won the country yet. It is getting better, but there is still work to be done.