History: Coming Out

 Off to College!  I couldn’t wait.

My parents had taken the family to Europe for my brother’s high school graduation present.  Mine, as we’d returned to England just before I graduated, was a one week cruise in the Caribbean and a week on St. Lucia.  It was lovely and I was besotted by my neighbor on the island.  A tanned, blond diver with a puka shell necklace.  His hair was bleached by the sun and saltwater.  He had a true swimmer’s build.  It was the age of tight Speedos and I was very grateful.  Each night I wanked one out, thinking about him.

College.  I didn’t know anyone going to the state school I attended so I took my chance with assigned roommates in the dorm.  It was not a great fit.  I was certainly the odd man out as the other three in the quad had girlfriends and talked up of little other than their supposed prowess.

I waited.  And tried to find alone time.  I once heard a rumor of a cruisy bathroom in the Union.  If it was—I never lucked into it at the right moment.  And I am not sure I even wanted anonymous sex.  I wanted a true boyfriend.

I did a show the first semester.  I saw all sorts of gay men around me—but I was just too shy to do anything about it.   Still dreaming.

My first year finished well academically.  I had my first summer job – at Greenfield Village.  I was smack in the middle of the Bicentennial display and worked the 220-year-old printing press, printing out handbills.  It was a great job.  And full of eye candy coming through the museum.

Working there also gave me quite a free schedule.  In August, on the day before his birthday, I got an invite for dinner from my brother.  He had moved to Ann Arbor—quite close to the family home.  He apartment surfed with various friends for a time—and finally had a more permanent place.  His roommates were a gay couple.  They would not be home.  I was excited.  I knew what I had to do…

The apartment was crammed with antiques and plants.  I set the table as my brother finished things up. Dinner was steaks on the grill, I noted in my journal.  Afterwards, I had my first scotch as we talked about my brother’s stereo.  We both knew there were more important things to talk about. 

I took a deep breath and told him about the books I had found of Dad’s.  He had seen some straight ones but was surprised/not surprised at the turn to gay books.  (We talked more about Dad—and that will be a post unto itself…)

I, being brave and coaxed by my brother, admitted to him that I had found his magazines the summer he was at the house.  He took a deep breath and told me he was bisexual.  (A term to soften the blow.  I know now, not in the least—he’s a gold star gay.)  He asked if I was shocked or upset.

“No.”

“I’m glad someone in the family knows and will understand.”

“Well….” And I paused a long time.  Before it all came out in a rush.  That I was still a virgin.  I was easily stimulated by either sex, but more so with guys.  How my shyness was really hindering me making any kind of contact…

We talked forever—and it felt wonderful to get it out in the open.

Finally, he asked if I would like to go to the gay disco.   I am sure my eyes went wide.  I couldn’t answer—but finally said ‘yes.’  He called Dad, after turning up the stereo, to say some friends had dropped over for an impromptu birthday party and I would be staying over.  I could just picture Dad telling Mom how glad he was that I was finally meeting people.  If he only knew…

It was 1976—so you need to forgive my brother for changing into a pink jumpsuit (though he swore it was orange!)  We set off for the Rubiayat, the only gay dance club in Ann Arbor.  As he drove, I worried out loud about meeting people I knew.

“You might.  One of your drama buddies from high school is there all the time.” 

Talk about a mix of excitement and nerves.

I was not even carded as we entered, though I knew I looked younger than my 19 years.  We went down a narrow corridor and into the restaurant by day/gay disco by night.  There were booths surrounding the dance floor—which was an explosion of light and color in this otherwise dark space.  A man in a blue jumpsuit grabbed my brother and gave him a long kiss on the mouth. 

We found a table and my brother went to the bar—scotch for him and I switched to Coke.  The moment it was delivered, Blue Jumpsuit pulled my brother onto the dance and I was left alone.  A guy asked me to dance—but I didn’t accept.  I was a bag of nerves.  That was until the guy from my high school saw me, looked surprised, and came over to talk.  

I made it through the evening.

But we weren’t done.  As the dancing wound down, my brother decided I needed to see the other bar in town.  The Flame was the neighborhood bar.  It was old, dingy and everything in it seemed to be shit brown.  I stuck with a Coke.  I even ventured to the restroom and lived to tell the tale.  We didn’t stay long.

Back at the apartment, the roommates were home.  With birthday presents.  They were incredibly nice to me—and it was great to be able to talk and not shout over the thump of a driving beat.  We chatted and laughed until it was 4am.

It was announced I would share the king-sized bed with my brother, as the couch was too short for my tall frame.  I gulped inwardly and agreed.  He was naked in no time and hopped in.  So did I, but sleep was the last thing I could even think about.  So many thoughts and images swirled in my brain as I lay there:  Coming out.  All the things we talked about.  Images of The Flame.  The pulsing noise of The Rubaiyat.  My friend from high school.  The sound of the roommates down the hall getting ready for bed and all that entailed in my fevered mind…

And it didn’t help that I found my brother extremely attractive.  He was asleep.  His heavy breathing calmed me—and I finally drifted off…