Coming Out. UPDATED

"You came out for a reason. That's all I'm saying." - words spoken by my most trusted friend. They rang so true I've been hearing them for a week. After all, if I can be truthful about something which guarantees me discrimination and exclusion from some circles, what else could I ever reveal that would actually scare off anyone else? A strong case for honesty if I've ever heard one. So here's step one: I'm going back to the start.

Coming out is not a one-time thing; it's an evolutionary process. Some are big and some are small. This is the first in an ongoing series recounting some the most memorable "outings" of my life. (The names will be changed to protect the innocent and the guilty.)

This post was updated at the request of that particular trusted friend. I hope the level of detail is satisfactory now. He was right - I wasn't quite finished with it yet.

The first coming out that I can remember was on a playground. I couldn't have been more than six. Matthew was my best friend in the whole, small world of first grade. We first kissed profusely behind a big tree at the corner of our schoolyard. Oddly, it just kind of happened - it wasn't a big deal. I don't remember feeling weird or ashamed of it at all, although we did make sure to hide whenever we kissed. But when you're not alone in it, you don't feel so odd.

Our moms frequently arranged overnight playdates, and we always shared a bed - not uncommon for little boys (unless Michael Jackson's doing the sharing!). We always kissed goodnight as soon as the lights went out. We also had this odd habit - started by moi of course - of kissing as we turned the pages of whatever storybook we were reading. (Insert required Fairy Tale joke here.) And usually held hands as we fell asleep. The thing about what we did was, it was the most innocent realization of sexuality I can imagine. We never played doctor - it never even occurred to us. We just kissed and held hands. We opened our mouths a few times because we saw people on TV do it. But we didn't know what came next. I wouldn't learn the trick about tongues until I was 15. (And that's whole 'nother post.)

I left the school we attended in second grade and we lost touch, predictably. The Best Friend thinks I was robbed of that potential perfect boyfriend - "the One." I'm not sure - for all I know, Matthew is happily married with children. He may not even remember me. But I certainly remember Matthew fondly. I can't lie - I kind of hope that one day, we'll bump into each other in a grocery store and some bizarre, gay Julia Roberts movie will start. But I'm happy with the memory nonetheless.

So, Matthew - thank you. *kiss*

This post was sponsored by the Coming Clean Committee.