The Awkward Teenage Years...

Sometimes, when I look back, and I’m sure many people can relate to this, I felt like I was living a double life before I came out as gay. It was quite a while ago, but every now and then, memories will present themselves and I’ll think about how I would’ve handled situations if I had been honest with myself and those around me.

In particular, a moment I remember oh too well was when I was out with my friends; a mix of straight guys and girls and we were discussing what our ideal partner would be. Granted, partner wasn’t the word we used, but we were young. Sexuality wasn’t as socially fluid as it is today. Boyfriends and girlfriends were what we said and I had no problem thinking about what I wanted in a boyfriend, but what I said was what I wanted in a girlfriend. How do you ask a barely out-of-the-closet 18-year-old American born Muslim boy if he’s gay? You don’t because such things didn’t exist out loud. We were as rare as unicorns! Surveying the room, with plastic cups of half drunken vodka, I realized that pretty much all of my friends were drunk. Shocker! Underage drinking and horny teenagers and surprisingly nobody made out that night.

It did finally become my turn to say what I wanted in a girlfriend. The moment of truth arrived. Did I come out to my friends? Did I lie? It was definitely a scenario I never hoped to be in but alas, I was there. I pretended to take a sip of vodka because I was tipsy and was already feeling uncomfortable so I did not want to slip up on what I was going to say. I obviously had rehearsed this moment in my mind dozens of times; the truth that is. How I would come out to my friends, what I would say. My friends all gave me this look of “come on” and “we’re waiting” and so I confessed everything I would want in a boyfriend but took the cowardly way out and used the pronoun, she.

In retrospect, I know this was not an uncommon thing for a person struggling with identifying their sexuality but in that moment, in the year 2004, I felt this tidal wave of cowardice and guilt wash over me. I remember taking a big gulp of my drink once I was done because the only thing that I wanted to wash over me was memory loss. I wanted to forget what I said to my friends that night. I wanted to drink and play video games and eat junk food not be reminded of the awful game that sent me into exile in the corner of my mind. Such an innocent game for people who were comfortable with what and who they want and yet for a barely out-of-the-closet 18-year-old American born Muslim boy, there was no such thing as an innocent game of anything. Every time I opened my mouth, I had to be conscious of whether I would slip up. I did a decent job of hiding my sexuality by working a lot and simply saying “I don’t have time to date” but I think deep down everyone knew what that meant.

I remember, when I did come out, one of the very first people I told, if not the first was my sister and she reminded me that I won’t just come out once; I’ll be coming out for the rest of my life and she was right. When people ask me if I have a girlfriend, because I still get that, I have to come out and tell them, “No but I have a boyfriend”. With that realization in mind, that I’d have to come out for the rest of my life, I thought about that night with my friends. I could either live in that constant state of feeling exiled and out of place or become one with myself and learn that sometimes being a fish out of water is a good thing; it separates you from the pack, makes you different and in some instances, one of a kind.

So much has changed since my insecure teenage years. I won’t dare say I have it all figured out but I will be brave and honest enough to know when I don’t fit in, I make it known and do what’s right for me in the situation. Everybody is different so it’s not a one-size-fits-all advice. You, the reader, the listener, the writer, you plural, must figure out what works for you so you don’t ever have to feel uncomfortable, if you don’t want to.