Another Pleasant Evening ~or~ They Won't Let Me Come Out

In my previous post, I mentioned that I was going to have dinner with a couple of college classmates (former Bananas) and their respective wives. We spent a pleasant three hours plus at a restaurant in the town where my grandfather lived when I was a pre-teenager. The guy who I met for lunch ("Dan") a couple of months ago is the one who arranged this get together, and he chose the location because it would be convenient for the other couple. It's about an hour's drive from my home, and he was surprised to learn that I knew my way to the town, since we had come there frequently when my grandfather lived there.

Anyway, it was a nice restaurant and we talked a lot about families (the second guy's ("John") "immediate family" — children, spouses, grandchildren — numbers about 24), classmates, and our doings. John's wfe's brother is a missionary priest, and there was a lot to tell about that. John and his wife spend three months a year in Florida. Dan is slowly retiring from work as a public defender. Dan and his wife had considered going the the one-man "Moby Dick" I had attended, and I told them it it was quite good, and "Angel Reapers" — a play with dancing or a dance performance with words, about the Shakers — was good too. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to me to mention that I had been very moved by "The Laramie Project" a year earlier. Dan got me to tell about my trip to Ireland last year, including the accidents. At one point someone asked if anything else interesting happened, and I was debating whether to tell about the lad in Claremorris who admired my hat and wanted it and said he'd suck me off for it. It might somehow broach the topic of homosexuality, but it was questionable for mixed company. I hesitated too long, and someone began another topic. At another point, I was ready to start talking about my blog, but as I drew a breath someone had something else to talk about.

So, it felt almost as if they were — unconsciously — preventing me from steering the conversation toward the topic of my orientation. Even at one point, John said something that might have led to talking about homosexuality, but it didn't go that way. Maybe God doesn't want me to tell them. LOL Well, Dan picked up the check, so now I've got to invite them to dinner (and John owes us, too — or at least he owes Dan). So there should be another chance before too many years go by.

Twenty years ago, probably ten years ago, I never would have considered coming out to them. But now I feel safe about it (but not safe enough to avoid the momentary hesitations which let the occasions pass) and somehow I want them to know, for it to be not just something they can figure out for themselves but an acknowledged fact. I think seeing how attitudes in society have changed has helped change my feelings about it as has my experience in blogging — both reading what others say and writing openly about myself. I'm not afraid that they will reject me.

But out or not, this is an example of the sort of friendly interaction a celibate gay guy can have. And it may well be that if I had not been so shy, I could have enjoyed a lot more interaction with these people over the years, but I allowed our get togethers to become very sporadic. So my advice is that shy guys cultivate friendships, especially with straight people. It can be relaxing to be in a situation where there is no sexual undercurrent; and for someone who is celibate it's good to have some real friends.

Epilogue: As we were leaving the restaurant, I tried to tell Dan quietly about the lad in Claremorris and his offer for my hat, but John's wife was close enough to hear and was paying attention. So when John asked what the story was, Dan said his wife could tell him.