My Trip Out

Gay married man coming out story

If my friends could see me now

I’m still a bit sick. Bear with me.

So there we are in Amsterdam. TC, a bonafide pot head, in near Nirvana when the coffeeshop clerk opened a drawer filled with little bags of weed. Just my luck. Later in the day, I’m walking down the street. I’m carrying a “HeadShop” plastic bag, inside a glass bong, 5 grams of greenhouse grown Dutch pot and the local gay scene magazine.

Chris starts giggling. What? “Boy, Chris – if your wife could see you now, what would she think”. He continues to chuckle. He’ll redeem his points in punishment from me later.

But where am I exactly on this journey out? Midway? Halfway? Is there any difference? I’m starting that think this process has chapters, perhaps even volumes and I can’t help but try and peek over the horizon.

TC slept last night at his old apartment. His former flatmates are moving themselves at the end of the month. They had a little party for “sentinmental” reasons to mourn this ending. I’m screaming GAYYYYYY in my mind.


  1. You know what, Chris, I have my 2 cents worth about your situation but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for me to say something. But the long and short of it is – I think your “transition” is a bit too drastic and you hardly have time to work out if you’re comfortable with all the changes. And because you are not sure what you are getting is what you want, you must be feeling quite unsettled.

  2. Chris,
    It’s like swwimming around the world. Unless you’re a fast swimmer, then you’re not very far.

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