revolving closet doors

As Queen of the Fruit Flies, I have, on many occasions, had friends "come out" to me. I have also had friends burrow even deeper into the closet. Let's start with one of the earliest coming out episodes I can remember, shall we?

The year..1988. The place..Ben Davis High School's parking lot. I was rushing to catch my bus, and my friend Doug ran to catch up with me. He said that he had something important to tell me. I told him to hurry, tick tock tick tock and all that. He said, "Michelle. I have to tell you this! I'm bisexual."

OK. And?

"No! You don't understand! I'm BI SEXual."

So I asked if he was the same person he was before he told me that. (Yes).

I asked if he knew that I loved him before he told me that. (Of course!)

So why would I love him any less afterwards if he was the same exact person. He couldn't think of a reason. And that was that. We hugged, I made my bus, and all was right in the world.

That may have been the fastest and easiest coming out until the octomom's most recent births.



Fast forward a few years. I was working an oh so lovely fast food job, and being my normal "queen of all I survey" self. I had become pretty close to one of my managers, and I was pretty darn sure he was gay. He always danced around the issue, never quite answering yay or nay.

About a week before he was scheduled to move on to bigger and better places, he told me we needed to talk. Uh oh. I've seen this movie a few times before. Can we just fast forward to the tears and hugs?

We decided to talk during our next shared shift. Said shift came and went. So did the next. And the next. It was now down to the night before he left the company. He called and asked that I come in to the store so that we could finally have THE DISCUSSION. (After all of this back and forth, the words had taken on almost mythical proportions. Anything less than all caps would be a travesty!)

I walked in to the manager's office, a room roughly the size of a bathtub. He said, "Ok. talk!" WAIT JUST ONE MINUTE! He wanted the conversation, but yet he wanted ME to do all the talking? I don't think so, sweetie! But yet he refused to talk. GRR! Fine. So I took the bull by the horns, so to speak. I said, "Is he the one?"

"What? Who?"

"Is he THE ONE? The guy I just met. You changed when you were around him. Your body language said that you were more than friends, dear. And the looks that passed between you...So I ask again, IS HE THE ONE?"

It was as if all the air left his body. He sank down to sit on top of the desk. Finally, a smile.
"Yeah. I think he is".
And that was that. Hugs and tears. One more closet door broken down.

I loved them both, and hope that they in turn loved me. Unfortunately, I can't ask. Both friends have since drifted away. I think of both, and wish that I could tell them how much they meant to me. I guess I was meant to go on to more closet doors, and more tears. And more hugs.