Out? by McVie

by McVie

I am not officially out.

Yes, ladies (wait, wait… are there any in the audience?) and gentlemen, McVie is still officially in the closet. Technically still in the closet. And I’m fine with it.

I can already hear the great groaning of viewers going, “Hu-whaaat?!”

Let me backtrack.

The year was 1987. My boyfriend was still just a mischievous gleam in his parents’ eyes. It was nearly December, and the days were shorter, the nights colder. My classmate and I were on our last semester, trying to finish our thesis. Yes, he’s THE classmate, my big crush. I was running out of time, and I needed to know: Is there a chance that G, my classmate and friend, will also see me as something more than just a friend? I only knew one way to find out, and that was to come out to him.

Well, we all know how that turned out. So much for my very first coming out.

A few months after graduation, I had to tell someone else, so I came out to my second closest friend, a girl. She was slightly shocked, cuz she didn’t expect it. But it took her almost less than a minute to process it, then she shrugged her shoulders and said, “Ah, okay!” And then she proceeded to ask me who among our guy classmates were my crushes.

I slowly and quietly came out to my closest friends first, especially those involved in the theater. But at my first job, I stayed in the closet. I still wasn’t sure if my officemates will like me or not if I admitted I was gay. Looking back, given that I was working at the Cultural Center of the Philippines, the bastion of Philippine culture and arts and the home to a hundred happy homosexuals, I realize now that I was probably at my stupidest.

So I vowed to myself that in my next work place, I will make it a point to come out to my officemates. And everyone I worked with knew I was gay.

But I never came out to my family and relatives. Or rather, they’re the only ones I’ve not formally told. Have I dropped hints? Nope. Do I leave clues? Not a bit. My mom subscribes to Catholic Digest; she once reasoned out that a female cousin of mine was “nawala ang landas” because she had lesbian friends. So my policy has always been: If they don’t ask, I don’t volunteer; but if they ask, I won’t lie.

So it’s only my kin who don’t know. Or do they? Manila is such a small town; my siblings’ friends have friends who are friends with my friends. And I am so out to my friends. So I wouldn’t be surprised if someone told someone even by accident. Which actually makes me think that coming out, for me, is really just a formality.

But if I were to dig way back, I think my coming out was really during high school. I knew even when I was in grade school that I was attracted to guys; but it was mostly admiration to those guys with handsome faces and well-built bodies. I was blissfully unaware of gay sex until I started watching movies alone in movie houses in Cubao.

I think it was in Quezon Theater. I don’t even remember what movie I was watching. I only remember the guy sitting next to me even though there were plenty other seats. I remember his right hand brushing my left leg. I remember being scared yet excited. I felt like I was burning in Hell from the inside. Every caress he made sent seismic shivers all the way inside my body. The higher his hand slid up my thigh, the hotter and harder I got. Until, bingo! He cupped my crotch first, then squeezed gently, feeling my burning hardness inside my jeans. When he managed to unzip my pants and bring my throbbing manhood out, I could almost see steam coming out of my pants. And then he went down on me. My mental synapses flipped and overloaded. My body was on fire. And in that instant, I knew, I just knew, that this is precisely what my body wants, that I needed a man’s lips and tongue to please my raging hard-on.

The first time I had sex was in a movie house; it was just oral sex, but it felt like an out-of-body experience. Now that’s coming out.