The Moment of Truth: To Be Out or Not To Be Out?

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Where do I begin? Shall I start from the time my neck used to turn  with every hot girl passing down the streets? Or the time I actually  started crushing on my boyfriend’s sister?

Well, I was 19 when it all began, or when I started noticing it.

Before it was only friendship to me. I loved being around women,  until one day I started discovering my body – a late bloomer, right  after dropping all the religious bullshit I was breast-fed. Masturbation  to me was the key. My fantasies were always about women, until one  day I decided I needed one. Of course, I went through all the drama,  watching “Lost and Delirious” everyday, thinking that I was the only  lesbian in the whole country, and thinking I was bisexual!

I won’t lie to you. The thought scared the f*** out of me. I was even scared to admit it to myself. I thought I would be alone all my life, desiring things I could never have… Until one holy day, I decided to come out to the only person I thought would understand. When I told her, she burst into laughter. She was always the friend who shouted at anyone who made fun of gay people, and turned out to be gay herself. That night, my life started, and finally it all made sense.

It took me one month to accept myself, drop the guilt and start my active life as a lesbian. Yes, a lesbian – bisexuality was just an alibi.

I was so happy outside my closet. But I was stupid enough to come out to my mom. Obviously, I liked “out” so much that I was kicked “out” of my house. My mom links lesbianism to porn and prostitution and drugs, but I was never into any of these things.

By then I’d just graduated, I was penniless, jobless, and I had nowhere to go.

But never underestimate your friends, especially if you have friends like mine, who stood by me, supported me, gave me a shelter and helped me stand on my feet again. And my partner, that same awesome girl because of whom my mother realized I was gay, still loved me, even though I was homeless, depressed and broke. We’ve been together four years now.

Now I admit it. It was kind of my fault. I should’ve denied it. I should’ve said: “No, mom. I’m not gay.” But there’s a moment in your life when you have to be true to yourself at any expense. And I was.

In spite of everything, I would do it the same way all over again. Two years later, peace has prevailed, and I have an OK relation with my mother.  Every time she mentions marriage, I promise her to get married to my girlfriend, and that’s when she frowns and changes the subject.

On a side note, I am the lesbian of the family. It’s funny because I think of it as a way to tease them, especially when they see how happy I am and satisfied with my life. Yes, I’m the happy lesbian, right in their face.

Now I would be lying to you if I said it was easy. It wasn’t. But here I am: I have a lovely job, I have my own apartment, I’m independent, and I’m leading a life of truth to myself. And that is something I would never trade.

Contributed by Crimson Curls

Guest Contributor

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