The following post was first published 12 years ago, in 2010:
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"Come to think of it, I've never told any of my straight friends that I
was gay," said Stanley, whose eyes -- for a refreshing change -- were
fixed on the road.
"Eeeks, you stupid driver!" Stanley squealed in horror. "Some cab
drivers ought to be told," he huffed, as if the swerving vehicle broke
Stanley's heart.
"Like I said, it feels so strange to be telling your straight friends, especially after all these years of acting straight."
How true.
Stanley may not be that tight in other departments, but where his gay life is concerned, trust me, his lips are tight. Sealed.
Like most of our gay peers, Stanley and I probably belong to a
generation where we either act straight or act blur to avoid being
probed. Wait, Stanley actually enjoys that, but let's leave that story
for another day.
Meanwhile, Carl's Uni-going boyfriend Ah Boy, has no qualms about
telling one and sundry of his inclination. While Ah Boy is not loud and
proud, he is perfectly comfortable with his sexuality -- friends and
loved ones including his parents, are some of those in the know. Good
heavens. Youngsters these days.
Later that night, it set me thinking: Is it so important that straight friends know we're gay?
Well, perhaps.
Ever since having outed each other in NS, Stanley and I have spent our
remaining years building layer after layer of walls, to fortify our
closets. Carl on the other hand, believes in building layer after layer
of muscle, hoping to attain that same effect.
But after all these years of being locked up in a far, far away castle,
key thrown away, I have, Heaven forbid, begun to let my hair down like
Rapunzel.
It actually all started four years ago, when a school mate's younger brother passed away suddenly.
Gee, life's too short, I thought.
It was then that I decided to tell at least one important person in my life, that I was gay. Just one.
So on one late weekend morning in 2006, I texted the Best Friend. I need to see you for a while. Starbucks near our place, in 20 mins?
It took me
all of 10 minutes to come clean the secret I've kept from the Best
Friend for 14 years. His reaction? Why did you wait so long to tell me?
Did you think I would have forsaken you? A series of friendly rebukes
and assurances of he still loves me later, I felt like the lightest
earthling that day.
And because it was liberating to tell one important person in my life, I thought, hmmm, maybe I could tell just another. Just one more.
And so, naturally, it was Nisa, my best girl friend.
But it didn't feel complete. How about planting alliances at the
workplace too? And so, Alexa and Hazeline -- two of my closest
colleagues -- joined the club. Oh, how about selected friends from Uni?
Just like that -- as if I were possessed by a persuasive insurance salesman -- I added one name after another to my list of those who know.
Each time I confessed, I am almost guaranteed the same reactions that very night. SMS-es that go somewhere along the lines of Thank you for sharing that part of your life... and I still love you. And it's always from the more sensitive gals.
The guys on the other hand, are quick to forget my confession as quickly as they accepted me.
Today, while I'm not loud and proud, I have come to terms with my sexuality.
I will probably tell the next person whom I feel particularly close to,
because to me, I'm literally opening up to that new person.
It's like saying, the door's right open. Step right in.
Okay, that sounds like Stanley.
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