Why I Decided to Be Gay
Being flamboyant and unapologetic allowed me to find power and pleasure in myself
At some level, I think I’ve always known I was gay. Or, to be more precise, I’ve always known that I was sexually attracted to men. Even as a child, I felt a peculiar thrill when I saw men with their shirts off, and I remember being distinctly fond of one Davy Jones of The Monkees (an episode in which he appears in nothing more than a speedo was particularly appealing to me). I had what I now recognize as crushes on a number of boys, some my age and some older. I had some on girls, too, but the number of boys far outpaced that of girls.
As I got older, I also decided — I’m not sure when or how, exactly — that I had no interest in obeying the unspoken rules that so often govern the way that little boys are supposed to behave. Certainly, it helped that my parents were both incredibly supportive of my whims, and this included buying me a very elaborate kitchen set so that I could pretend to bake and cook, as well as a shopping cart with toy groceries so that I could pretend to go grocery shopping. My mother told me that I would probably be picked on in school because I didn’t like sports, but that that was okay, since she both she and my father had been similarly ostracized (it’s worth pointing out that neither of my parents are particularly good…
