Most coming out stories tend to follow a certain pattern. There comes a time, usually at a
young age, when someone notices that they're a little different: they have some feelings
that most other people don't have. Eventually, they put the pieces together and come to understand
what this means. They realize that they're gay, or lesbian, or bisexual, and they have
to work through the implications of this. For many of them, it may be difficult to accept
themselves for cultural or religious reasons, and even harder to cope with how others might
react to this. But hopefully, they'll reach a point where they're comfortable enough and
confident enough to let more people know. It might be intimidating or stressful, but
they find that honesty and integrity requires it of them. And, in the best case, everything
goes well: they find acceptance and support, and they're able to live their life while
being open about who they are. They may need to come out again to different people throughout
the course of their life, but an equilibrium has been reached - they've established a new
normal. They found their true identity and cemented it as a part of their personal and
public life. And that's the end of the story. Or is it? I came out a couple years ago, to
the surprise of absolutely no one. Nowadays, it's hardly even necessary, since most people
can't help but notice. For me, it quickly became the new normal. And I thought that
was the end of it. So I hardly even realized that something was sneaking up on me. You
see, I've always had a thing for guys. I can regale you with all the typical stories about
when I first knew, about paying more attention to my friends and less attention to girls,
and the myriad other clues that point directly to being gay. But sometimes, unexpected things
happen. Sometimes new evidence comes to light, and you have to update your understanding
of things. Guys are just great, although they often get kind of creepy around me for some
reason. And I've never been the kind of person who needs to be with someone that badly, so
I was pretty happy to be single. Yet, the entire time, I had somehow failed to notice
the person I'd grown so close with, because I wasn't aware of how much potential we had
together. I thought this wasn't an option. I was wrong. I mean, think about it: When
you look like me, and you're gay, what's the most obvious conclusion? I didn't see it at
first, either. But eventually, the conditions were right, and things between us just spontaneously
combusted. Everything finally came into focus, like a Magic Eye picture. She's my girlfriend,
and I'm her girlfriend. The answer was right there: I'm a lesbian! I know, I wouldn't have
believed it - until it actually happened. And it really works! In fact, that's an understatement.
It's not even a compromise for us. She's the most brilliant person I've ever known and
I love her. I've never been so close with someone before, and it's revolutionized my
life. The time before I knew her pales in comparison to what we have now. I've never
been so happy, and there's no way I was going to pass on the most amazing person in my life
just for the sake of a label. So, is this a matter of confusion of some sort? I'm sure
some people might think so, but nothing about this is confusing. It is what it is, and it
couldn't possibly be clearer to me now. Others might be confused about what we have, but
I'm certainly not. I know who I am, and I know what we are. Could it be a kind of fluidity?
It doesn't seem like it. I find it hard to imagine a point in my life when I would have
told her, "Sorry, you're a woman, no can do." I'm pretty sure I was always open to this,
even if I didn't know it at the time. It definitely hasn't made me any less gay. There's just
more to it than that - more than I ever knew. It's like I've always told you: it's about
love. And that's what this is. I have the most incredible girlfriend in the world, and
we love each other. It may have been a surprise, but it's been the most wonderful surprise
of my life. And I'm proud to say I love her.