I was lucky in this regard.īut somehow, in my mind, the stakes still felt impossibly high. No one in my circle was outwardly homophobic, and I had faith that I wouldn’t be disowned.
I went through a running list of friends and family, sifting through memories and exchanges for hints of how they might react. At night we’d lose ourselves to summer freedom, kicking back tequila, dancing to Rihanna, bar stamps accumulating on the sinews of our wrists. We spent long days on the beach, drinking iced coffee, reading magazines, watching the waves.
On Fridays we rode the train together and talked about music. Among the men, half were straight, half were gay. Among our 31 housemates, half were women, half were men. We had both signed up for a summer house, a sand-caked split level called the Hive. He wore his gayness loosely-a throw tossed over a leather couch. He was thin but strong, with dark tousled hair. We were out in Montauk, a beach town on the southern tip of Long Island, a three-hour train ride from the city. Something was wrong with me and I didn’t know what.and the not knowing kept me up until 2:15 a.m. I worried I was incapable of the one thing that humans seemed hardwired for-romantic, intimate love. I’d dated a handful of girls since moving to New York, but nothing was sticking. I traveled to their bachelor parties, clinked champagne during toasts, sweated in dance circles to Taio Cruz’s "Dynamite." Then during the slow song, I’d turn inward. My friends were pairing off, moving out, starting families of their own. You will die before you truly get to live.Īs I entered my late 20s, these feelings amplified. One day all of this-the friends, the dancing, the laughter, the beer pong. I’d scope the humid room and feel the beating impermanence of everything.
Music bumping, drinks splashing, the scene would suddenly flicker and fade, then dissolve entirely. Later, in high school and college, I’d find myself at parties physically surrounded by a profusion of friends. An only child, I used to wish for a sibling, someone to travel through life with.
For as long as I could remember I grappled with a pressing sense of loneliness.
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