Coming Out of The Closet - Part 1

I can’t live this lie any longer.  I have been pretending I am someone I’m not for way too long.  I’m a fake, a phony, a fraud, a sham.  I’m an imitation, a replica, a forgery. I am no better than Milli Vanilli or Geraldo Rivera!  Okay, I’m still better than Geraldo, but that’s not saying much!  The point I’m trying to make is I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore because I am so disgusted at what I see.

From a very young age, my parents raised me to be a gentleman.  I was taught to treat everyone with respect, unless they gave me a reason otherwise.  When I got a little older and had developed more physically, my father pulled me aside and gave me that father-son talk that every boy in my neighborhood eventually gets.  He told me that, while I should honor all of my fellow man, two particular groups were to be held in higher esteem than everyone else.  They must be put first- even before myself, and must always command my utmost respect and love.  People who felt differently were “a bunch of idiots”, he would say.  These two groups, who I was destined to spend my entire life worshipping were, the New York Yankees….and women!  As long as I stayed true to both these- God’s finest creations, I would lead a long and happy life.  I could literally kill a man and my neighbors would still accept me, so long as after I threw away the murder weapon and washed the blood off my hands, I went home to eat dinner with my family, and was in front of the TV in time for first pitch. 

Not knowing another way to live, I grew up fantasizing about the “American Dream”, which was:  marry the prom queen; make a few babies; buy a dog; and then move into a white house with a matching picket fence.  I imagined that my adulthood would be spent barbecuing in my backyard, playing Frisbee with my Golden Retriever, and taking my kids to Yankee games.  Like every other boy I knew, I quickly grew to appreciate and admire those people my father had told me about.  I was awe-struck by the numerous physical gifts that God had bestowed upon them.  These amazing physical specimens and the incredible features they possessed became the center of my universe from that point on.  Even though we didn’t really know much about them yet, my friends and I spent hours every day after school talking about random things we had caught a particular one doing  recently.  If one I happened to like smiled at me; even acknowledged my existence for that matter, I was on cloud nine the rest of the day.  When my friends and I got older we were allowed out of the house more, so we were able to see them more socially.  Being around them more, we eventually became experienced in other ways, too.  Even now, I will never forget my first “Home Run”.  My buddies and I spent our entire teen years discussing which ones “performed” the best.  We would rip on someone mercilessly if they got caught trying to “steal third base” the night before.  There would be many intense arguments amongst us over who “scored” the most.  These seemingly flawless beings had such a spell over us that we even tried to sneak into their locker room a few times- just to get a better look at them.  We were still in that curious stage, understand.

On weekends, I used to go in my parents’ room and steal my father’s guy magazines from his closet.  I would take as many issues as my little hands could carry over to my friends’ houses, where we would all spend the entire night looking through them, and talk about which ones we liked the most.  I remember drooling over the various “stats” of these individuals many a time. 

Though I still dream about this destiny, these dreams now cause me to wake up screaming, not gleaming.  While I still desire the white house and picket fence, the rest of this fantasy greatly disturbs me.   The idea of me taking a Prom Queen; any woman for that matter, to a Yankee game has become a repulsive thought.  I have been permanently turned off to these individuals because of how they have treated me over the years.  It is because of their actions that both my heart and my wallet are broken.  While my wallet won’t stay empty for long; the emptiness in my heart will remain for years to come.  Despite the backlash that will no doubt ensue from my family and friends alike; at the risk of being ousted from traditional society, I have decided to turn my back on everything I know, and embrace the feelings that have been brewing inside me these last few months; feelings which concern a different dream.  Hopefully this new fantasy will result in me finally getting that fairy-tale ending; the ending that I was robbed of; the ending that I deserve. 

It’s weird; I used to think there was nothing sexier than a woman wearing ass-hugging jeans and a half-buttoned Derek Jeter jersey, cheering loudly for the Yankees when I went to a game.  Watching her cleavage bust out from between the pinstripes used to drive me crazy.  Now, after all that’s happened, not only am I no longer attracted to women like this, but I find them absolutely repulsive. Thankfully, in the end, oogling over these people turned out to be just a phase in my life- no different than wearing stone-washed jeans, listening to MC Hammer, or tight-rolling my pants.

This sudden hatred of something that had been so dear to me was a hard pill to swallow, even for me.  I mean, if you put these two groups side by side, I would have to be an “idiot”, as my father would say, to “switch teams”.   The group I spent my lifetime chasing after is very image conscious.  They have great hygiene and nearly perfect physiques (I was picky, you might say).  They take pride in their appearance; not so much as a hair is ever out of place.  They know men are always watching them, and they like to stay in shape and look nice in for those men.  I was a fan of the ones with big chests.  Besides having the most impressive measurements, they were also the most popular, and I always loved a challenge.  The fact that, besides me, they had thousands of other guys ready, willing and able to spend money on them used to make me try that much harder, and willing to spend that much more money, in an attempt to outdo the other suitors and show I cared about them more.

Sites like this no longer do it for me

 Now…take the other group; the “bunch of “idiots” that I have illogically fallen for.  They don’t care what they look like when they go out in public.  Their clothes are always wrinkled and tattered.  They have hair coming out of every orifice of their body.  Some of them have beards so thick it would make ZZ Top jealous.  They are loud and obnoxious, and they definitely don’t smell as nice.  They party like Vikings and don’t look nearly as good in a bathing suit.  I choose them not for looks though.   My heart was swayed by their character and fun loving attitude.  They are definitely much more fun than my former partners.  I can be myself around them too, which I never could before.  You won’t see these guys having cat fights about stupid things, or causing unnecessary drama.  They just want to have a good time.  The bitches from my past life could never just cut loose and have fun.  They were always so proper; trying to act perfect all the time.  They could make something as child-like as playing baseball seem like a chore.  They may do something stupid and completely ruin my night every now and then, and I may still have my heart broken on occasion, but at least they make me feel like I belong; make me feel appreciated.

Another thing I like about my new choice of dates is that they’re a much cheaper date.  The egotistical control freaks that used to own my world would always send me home broke every time we got together.  I would always pay for everything:  Food, Yankee tickets, souvenirs, hats and clothing; most of it embroidered with their initials or name on it, and that’s just the small stuff.  I remember a few times when I was broke, I would go over to visit them, and they would refuse to see me.  They actually sent me home because I was unable to support them that night.  They didn’t just empty my wallet, either.  They also emptied my gas tank.  I would drive all over for them; to the mall, the park, or their work, amongst other places.   If my car was in the shop, they made me take the subway.  Heaven forbid they use their car, which were always much nicer than mine, mind you.  They did shit like this to me all the time.  While I still pay for everything on dates, the stuff these guys make me buy isn’t nearly as expensive.  Plus, they would never make me take the subway.

I tried everything to fight away these feelings, as I thought I had been possessed.  I desperately wanted to be like everyone else I knew, as I thought that was the way God intended.  I didn’t dare tell anyone about these “impure thoughts” I was having.  I was scared of being shunned by everyone I knew, even my family.  When I was young, even the thought of me “switching teams” was enough to make me vomit.  Deciding to act on these thoughts and, in the process, changing my entire way of life around was, and is, an unforgivable act of betrayal towards everyone I hold dear. Growing up, my father used to call these people, my people, as “faggots”, “queers” and “gay”, amongst other insults.  If he knew that his oldest son had become one of those people that he despised so much, it would rock his world to its very foundation!  With my admittance, I am putting my ass on the line that my loved ones will accept me for who I am, not who they want me to be.  I can't live this lie anymore.  I can barely sleep at night.  I just want to move on, for better or for worse.

After they find out, my friends, if I have any left, will most definitely be weirded out.  Who wouldn’t be a little uncomfortable hanging with a guy whose residence is covered with pictures of muscular men, holding a thick, long piece of wood in their hand?  The fact that all the guys are either leather clad, or in the midst of “scoring” with another guy, certainly wouldn’t do much to help this discomfort, either.

The only reason I even have the courage to do this at all is because of the celebrities who have came out in recent years.  They risked their lifestyle, their careers, and their image all to be true to themselves.  This is what inspired me.  People I once despised- like Ben Affleck and Matt Damon, I now admire for staying true to themselves and openly proclaiming their adoration and love, at the risk of being scorned by the ever-judging eyes of the public.  Most people can’t even remember that these two made this proclamation.  They just think that the two are just really good friends.  In reality, they share something much deeper, if you know what I mean.  While both men are married now- everyone, including their wives, knows that it’s just for show.  Everyone knows where their true passion lies.  Besides these two, many other celebrities have publicly exclaimed that their heart beats against the grain.  You may be surprised by some of them.  I actually had to research some of these names to verify the info, as some are surprising.  Besides Matt and Ben, author Stephen King, comedian Stephen Wright, singer Kenny Chesney, and actor/musician and Ex-Calvin Klein Model Mark Wahlberg (didn’t he used to be a sex symbol??) have all proudly admitted that they are citizens of a movement that has recently grown into a Nation. 

I want to add that I am not doing this to be the center of attention or for press- although it almost seems that “coming out of the closet” is the popular thing to do nowadays.  It’s almost like a fad.  Coming out of the closet; getting a DWI; being on a reality show; making a sex tape; going to rehab and adapting a third world child all seem to be the “In” thing to do in today’s world.  I am convinced some people make this important aspect of their personal life known just so they could get added publicity for a new project; maybe even resurrect their dying careers. Voluntary admissions of this caliber would have been unheard of 20 years ago.  Back then, people like me would have had to be mad to come out of the closet.  Although we do have more power now, and it is much easier to come out, prejudice against my kind is everywhere.  I know because I used to be the abuser.  My friends and I used to say words like “queer” and “loser” to put down these individuals just because we didn’t like the clothes they were wearing.  It was so superficial and shallow now that I look back on it.  Maybe becoming one of these people is God’s way of punishing me.  If so, that would be true poetic justice!  

I hope my friends realize that, even after this, I am still the same guy. I still like to drink beer, watch movies and tell jokes, just like I always have.  The only difference is that now I have different fantasies.  I might spend more nights crying myself to sleep now.  I am quite sure I will spend more than a few nights getting fucked up the ass, which makes people uncomfortable, including me for that matter.  I will learn to take all this in stride, because I am happy.  This is my new life, and I’m going to take the ball and run with it; see where this leads me.  I couldn’t end up any more unhappy than I was before.

So, here I am, finally expressing my true feelings.  I can now finally live free again, and come out of this closet because I, Rob Anderson, am A RED SOX FAN!!!

To read the follow-up to this mind blowing announcement, where DP (Dirtpaw) discusses why he hates the Yankees after so many years of loyal fandom, click HERE.