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  • Eventually. Over dinner or at a cafe or while driving along the coast, or snuggled in bed, gay men will share their coming-out stories with each other. Here is a sampler.


    His mother cried and locked herself in the bedroom after he told her he was gay. The next day, at breakfast, at the kitchen table, his mother wore vintage Chanel sunglasses. When he asked her, if she could pass the milk, she stared straight ahead, and said in a voice soaked in melodrama.

    "Please don't talk to me. My son died yesterday."

    A year later. His mother joined PFLAG (Parents Friends of Lesbians & Gays) and was marching in the local Gay Parade.


    In a middle of an argument with the parents, his sister blurted out. "You two are so clueless. You don't even know that your own son is gay."


    After twenty years of marriage, after the birth of two sons, who were now adolescents, after years of "therapy," years of tearful apologies for indiscretions, he finally admitted to himself that he could not change. He told his wife. They both cried.


    After discovering the love letters he had written to another boy, his father threw him out of the house. He fled to the Big City. Homeless. He survived by prostitution. He was sixteen years old.


    He prepared a meal. He invited his parents over to his studio apartment. When the meal was finished, there was a pause, a fidgety silence. His parents looked at him with concern. They waited in anticipation.

    Summoning all his courage, he declared: "Mom, Dad, I'm gay!!!"

    His mother started crying. Tears trickling down her cheeks.

    He told her: "Mom, it's not that bad. Really, it's okay."

    Wiping the tears from her eyes, his mother said: "No, I'm just relieved. I thought you were going to tell me you had some incurable disease like brain cancer!"
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