My name is Alan [XXXXX].  I’m gay.  This is my coming out story.
My coming out story isn’t really much of a story at all.  Oh sure, it has most of the important parts like a beginning, middle, and end, but fortunately for me, it’s missing one thing all good stories have: conflict.  Well, maybe even without conflict something in this story will mean something to someone today.  That’s all that matters.
It isn’t easy to say exactly when this story begins.  I can’t give you a date or a time when I first began to wonder to myself “I wonder if I’m gay?”  Part of the trouble is I had some mental circuit breaker that would trip when my mind began to ask the question, so for the longest time I never got past “I wonder…”  All I can say for sure is that it was at some point in high school that I first tripped that breaker in my mind.  I’m sure it happened many times that I don’t remember, but while writing this down for today, the first time I can recall was my Junior year of high school.  We had just gotten back from break, and I overheard someone telling their friend they had sat behind a gay couple on the plane, and one had fallen asleep with his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.  I was surprised when I bristled in anticipation of some derogatory comment that I was sure was about to follow, but I was even more surprised when, after the other person added that she thought it was adorable, I added a mental “awww” as well.  Something about that tripped my mental circuit breaker and I didn’t think about that day for a long time to follow.
Other times I began to travel down that road I used all the stereotypical excuses that parents in denial use.  “I’m just a late bloomer”, “I just haven’t met the right girl”, and the infamous “It’s just a phase.”  Well, it turned out to be a good thing I had those excuses fresh in my mind because that summer I must not have been careful enough covering my tracks after stumbling across some… intriguing websites.  My parents sat me down and asked me flat out if I was gay.  For someone who considered himself straight, getting called out was quite unsettling.  Now I know what you’re thinking.  I told you there wasn’t any conflict in this story but this sounds pretty confrontational.  Well, fortunately my parents and I have always gotten along well enough that we were able to have a real conversation, and although I forget which of those excuses I used, the fact that I believed it myself helped in convincing them I really was straight.  And that’s pretty much the last I thought about it for the next four years.
Oh sure, there were plenty of times that I thought “I wonder…”, but my mental circuit breaker ensured I never even finished the question, and I just floated along until the summer after my Junior year of college.  I was doing research part time here in Pittsburgh and most of my friends had gone home for the summer.  This gave me a lot of time to do some soul searching and reflection.  With all that time on my hands, the breaker tripped repeatedly until one day it jammed in the closed position.  Over the coming weeks and months, I began to come to terms with it myself, and even began considering coming out to my parents.
While trying to decide the best way to do it, I was reminded of a Will and Grace episode I’d seen.  (And yes, I’m sure liking Will and Grace must have tripped the breaker countless times.)  The scene I was thinking of involved the usually witty repartee between the title characters.  Will: “Yeah, the holidays are always a stressful time in my family.”  Grace: “Oh really?  Is it because of the year you told your mom you didn’t like her fruitcake?”  Will” “No, it’s because of the year I told my mom I was a fruitcake.”  Although it was just a convenient joke for the show, I decided there was a certain logic to it.  I knew if I wasn’t going to come out to my parents at Thanksgiving or Christmas, I might not have had a chance until the following summer, unless I did it that summer when I was home before the semester started.
Finally, on August 22nd, 2006, just two years, one month, and twenty-two days ago, I screwed up my courage, sat my parents down, and came out.  They were amazing.  The immediate response was a big ol’ group hug, followed by all the required “mom” questions, like “Do you have a boyfriend?” ect.  My dad showed how much of a Physicist he really is by doing some research into the subject and sitting me down to talk about the gay equivalent of the birds and the bees.  With such a positive experience under my belt, over the course of the fall semester I came out to my closest friends one by one.  Once I had had all the individual conversations I wanted to, starting in the spring I joined Allies (the gay straight alliance on campus) and began broadcasting my sexuality to the world.  A combination of a facebook profile listing of “male interested in men” and a rainbow bracelet, it wasn’t long before I really was out.  Since then, I’ve been involved in Allies any way I can to make up for 21 years of missing experiences.
Well, that’s my coming out story, or at least the story so far.  Looking back over what I’ve written, I guess I lied to you.  I told you this story had a beginning, a middle, and an end, but in truth there is no end.  There will always be future friends, neighbors, and colleagues who won’t know until I tell them.  As far as I’ve come from two years, one month, and twenty-two days ago, this story never really will be over.