Coming Out Late in Life: Some Advice From the Field
Many of us were stumbling out of the gay bar that night. Unlike the others, however, I was not drunk. Avoiding eye contact, I kept my head lowered to hide the tears. I rushed across the parking lot and jumped into my car. As soon as I shut the door, the uncontrollable sobbing unleashed from my gut as I rested my forehead on the steering wheel.
I gave up everything-my entire life-for this?
Only one month prior, I had “came out” as a gay man and only two weeks prior had left my wife and two kids behind to embrace the brave new world of homosexuality.
Now, alone in my car, I was attempting to process waves of emotion that were foreign to me. I can only describe the feeling as somewhere between the stinging regret of buyer’s remorse and the isolating hopelessness of suicide.
What have I done? I just want to curl up and die.
I was thirty-six years old when I decided to reveal my secret and claim my identity as a gay man. I had never been with a man at that point; hell, I didn’t even know a gay person. My world consisted of a corporate job, my Pentecostal church, and a big house on the corner of an upper-middle-class street in the South. My knowledge of the LGBTQ community came from watching Will & Grace and news reports about pride parades.
In my naivety, I had daydreamed of walking into a gay bar or trendy coffee shop and seeing the unbridled joy on the faces in the crowd as they embraced and welcomed me to the family. I saw rainbow flags and glitter bombs; the feeling of belonging was overwhelming. I had searched for my tribe for three decades.
My daydreams became living nightmares.
There is a special kind of raw vulnerability that exists in someone who conjures the courage to destroy the comfort of a well-constructed life and step into a world completely different than the one they’ve always known. I had weighed my options and finally allowed the exhilaration of possibility to outweigh the gripping fear of the unknown. It was a risk, and that night in my car it felt like I lost the bet.
Living as someone else had constructed an identity built on a false sense of security. Moreover, lying to everyone I loved left me with enough guilt and shame to destroy my self-worth. In my mind, being openly gay would solve all of these problems. The false premise that framed my decision-making rested in the belief that my sexual preference was my identity.
What I found when I forged into this new world was not rainbows and glitter. Arriving at the gay bar, I was met with side-eyes instead of embraces, whispers instead of rainbows, and small enclosed groups instead of a “welcome home” party.
I couldn’t seem to make eye contact, I felt alone in a room full of “my people” and interestingly enough, I felt as much of an outsider as I had in my old life. I began to miss my kids. My stomach churned as I tried walking around the bar. As I passed by a cluster of guys, I overheard “Well, someone found the Old Navy clearance rack!” I shuddered as I looked down. My wife and I always shopped at Old Navy. My hands were shaking and my heart pounding. I felt like it was the first day at a new school.
I backed myself into a dark corner in order to survey the scene. I took a deep breath and decided to approach the bar. Maybe a drink would extinguish the oncoming panic attack.
I managed to order a drink and on my way back to my corner, and noticed the first guy to make eye contact with me. “Hey, I know you. Dallas, right?”
“Um, yes! How…How do you know me?”
“Yeah, a girl I know works with your wife. She told me about what you did. I have to say you’re pretty selfish for doing that. Might as well save up for therapy because those kids are going to need it.”
He walked away to his group and I saw him gesture toward me and several sets of eyes looking my way. It felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach. That’s when I made my escape to the car to release the onslaught of emotions that had built up throughout the night.
I share this story not to cast a negative light on the LGBTQ community, but in hopes that my negative experience might be a guidepost for other men and women who decide that “coming out” is their next best chapter. This experience in no way reflects the entire community, but it is a common occurrence. Before you make the leap from “straight” to “gay”, here is some advice from the field:
● Play the long game. I had repressed my inner gay man for three decades so once I consciously made the decision to walk into my truth, I didn’t just come out of the closet, I busted it open. I wrote my wife a letter and moved out a month later. This approach seemed poetic and liberating at the time but it was selfish and traumatic for her and my children. And ultimately for me. At the time I felt like my life was slipping away, so time was of the essence. Now I see that taking time to process, to partner with my wife, to ease my kids into introducing this new part of me, would have alleviated the pain I inflicted on them. Also, taking the time to transition emotionally and mentally would have better prepared me to face the unexpected.
● Avoid using Grindr at first. Grindr is the most-used hookup app for gay men. Having intimate access to the sea of available men in your area will make you feel like a kid in a candy store. Diving into the Willy Wonka chocolate fountain that is Grindr can be too much, too soon. This app is where I found my sense of self-worth in the beginning. The attention one gets from guys on the app feels great but this attention is based on instant gratification and quick sexual encounters. This type of treatment will leave a vulnerable man feeling gutted. There is always a guy available on the app in real-time to shower you with compliments. This can get addictive and skew your perception of dating.
● See a therapist. One of the best decisions I made during this time was to find a gay therapist who specialized in helping men through the coming-out process. It was through his council that I began to understand the deep-seated trauma that fed my insecurities. I was able to shift my expectations so that I wasn’t romanticizing my new life, but observing it from a grounded point-of-view. The rainbows and glitter were replaced with Friday nights alone doing the real work on my inner child and easing into low key events like LGBTQ fundraising bingo nights instead of the club scene. Bringing the kids along to some therapy sessions was also a great way to involve them in the transition and help them understand the reasoning behind my decisions.
● Find a GBF. When I plunged myself into the LGBTQ culture, I had no idea of the nuances, terminology and customs. It was as if I was on an expedition to a foreign country to study a little-known tribe. Serendipitously, I met a nice guy who became my gay best friend. He was more than happy to show me the ropes from the best brunch location to meet cute men to preparing for anal sex. Taking the time to learn instead of clumsily tripping through your new life will be a huge benefit to you.
● Your sexuality is not your identity. What I’ve come to understand is that there are so many facets to being me than my sexual preference. I did the work and discovered myself. What did I want out of life? What did I want from a partner? What is it that I truly want to be known for? These were questions I couldn’t answer, because the persona I had created was based on the expectations of those around me. Once I grew to know and love myself, how other people, gay or straight, treated me didn’t matter to me.
● Manage expectations when it comes to acceptance. One big mistake I made in this process was to create expectations around how my family and friends would react to my decision, and feeling betrayed when they didn’t live up to those expectations. Just because you have accepted your new life — ready to move forward and open to your new sexuality — doesn’t mean everyone else will so easily. You’ve had years of seeing the man behind the curtain but those around you haven’t had that privilege. It is helpful to understand that others need some time to process; many times family and friends are more traumatized than you. I lashed out and tried to shove my lifestyle in their face, shut them out, and damaged long-standing relationships unnecessarily. Have patience and show some grace. At the end of the day you are loved and they will come around when they are ready.
I ended up going back to that club after some regrouping and integrating lessons-learned. This time I was equipped with a few friends at my side and a newfound resolve. This time I looked out into the crowd through a lens of nonjudgement; there will always exist certain cliques and certain “bad apples.” This time I held my head a little higher and didn’t take the scene, or myself, as seriously. This time I saw a guy backed into that same dark corner that had been my own escape, so I invited him to join us.
This time I had healed.
