Coming Out Month: “Do You Want Some More Coffee?”

Our original plan for Coming Out Month involved reaching out to more models, porn stars, celebrities and bloggers like we did with The “Real Man” Project… Yet, a few days into the series, we realized that wasn’t quite necessary. You responded to our open call. And your individual experiences were moving, honest, inspiring and heartfelt.

As much as we welcome contributions from notable gay personalities—and we may have a few more coming your way—this is truly enough for us. If you haven’t already done so, find out here how to submit your story and earn three free months of unlimited membership to Manhunt.

Today’s submission is on a whole other side of the spectrum than our most recent entry. This is the story of a man who comes out to his family, and a family who defied his expectations with their acceptance. We hope you enjoy reading!

- Dewitt

Click through to read this member’s coming out story:

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My coming out story is not full of angst. I am lucky, and I write this to show others there is hope. Not all families shun their children.

It was 1993. It was before Will and Grace and Queer as Folk. My job had moved me out of town, and I swore to myself that once I was far away from my family, I would come out.

It was during a visit home that I decided it was time to tell my parents. I was already out to friends and my sister. That had all went well. All I could hope for was love from my parents.

You see, I was raised Roman Catholic and went to Catholic Schools all of my life. Way back then, for you young folk, you were taught homosexuality is a sin. There was a lot of guilt I felt about it—so much guilt that I tried to live the straight life. I am not a gold star gay.

That’s enough of the back story! Now, on to telling my parents…

Like I said, I moved away from home, and it was on a visit home that I decided to tell them.

Mom and I were having our morning coffee and doing crossword puzzles together. It was our morning ritual. She sould see there was something on my mind and asked me what was wrong. I took a sip of my coffee, looked her in the eyes and said, “Mom, I’m gay”.

She looked at me, sighed and said, “Yes, I know. Do you want some more coffee?”

I was stunned, and I had no idea why, but there were tears in my eyes. My father was in the living room and came out to the kitchen for more coffee. Mom asked, “Do you want to tell your father?”

I looked at him and said, “Dad, I’m gay.”

He said, “Yes, I know. Do you want more coffee?”

It was then that I knew how lucky I was to have the parents I did. My mom asked me not to tell my brother. He is very conservative, and she was afraid that he would not be as accepting.

Fast forward to the early 2000′s.

I had moved back to the area, because my Dad had gotten sick and I wanted to be close. I was hanging out with my brother and sister a lot. Mom still didn’t want me to tell my brother, fearing that my brother would have the same reaction her family had when her sister came out.

I stayed in the closet around him and watched my pronouns. One night, my brother and I were preparing dinner for our family. He looked at me and said, “You don’t have to change the pronouns in your sentences. I know, and I don’t care.” Since then, my brother and I have gotten even closer.

Coming out is a never ending process.

In June of this year, I had gotten sick and spent six days in the hospital. I was born with a rare disease, and sometimes, I still have issues. This was the worst it had ever been.

I was sick for awhile and had not visited an uncle who was going through cancer treatment. One day, I stopped by my aunt and uncle’s house to tell them what had happened and where I was. Then, I took a deep breath and came out to them. I never told them because they are old school Italian Catholic.

To my surprise, they didn’t care. All they were worried about was how I was doing and wanting me to get better. Though they said they had no idea, I occasionally wonder if they were living in denial. Sometimes, when I came home to visit, I had a male “friend” with me.

Like I said, I am VERY lucky.

My family has been nothing but supportive and loving. Mom honestly believes I was born this way (please, no Lady Gaga references). She said when I first came out, “It is a hard life. I don’t think you would choose it.”

Dad recovered and is doing well. And my family is closer than ever.

I had nothing to fear. I am now 47 years old and happier than I have ever been.

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