Just for a moment, I though I was out

I’m early-30s, gay, closeted, based in the UK.When I was a kid, I liked girls. I was outgoing, a massive flirt, even in primary school.When I was 12, I was sexually assaulted by a total stranger when I was skipping school in a local woods. It’s possible that I’d started to develop homosexual feelings at that point but I’m not sure. I’ve always wondered if he sensed something in me, that maybe he knew before I did. But, I think what he did to me pushed any feelings I did have way, way down, and for a very long time.I didn’t talk about it with anyone. Even though I was young, I knew instinctively I couldn’t tell my parents about what happened. Even though I was a victim, I understood that this would somehow diminish me in my parents eyes. So, 12 year old me kept it secret (many years later I did try to tell my father, but before I could get it out he changed the subject).It took me a long time to understand, and longer still to accept, that I was sexually attracted to men. I know some people say they always knew, or knew from a very young age, but I didn’t.My family, even the more progressive ones, have always been deeply homophobic. There were no outwardly gay people in my life; not in my social circles (real and virtual), not in university, and not in work. As such, when I encountered these feelings, there was no one to talk to or confide in. So I ignored it and refused to accept it as part of me.Coming out wasn’t even something I entertained. I’d been clinically depressed since my teens (I tried to kill myself a few months after that assault) and I’d picked 30 as the arbitrary age by which I’d off myself; I figured by then I could push friends and family far enough away that they wouldn’t be hurt when I finally did it. There didn’t seem to be any point in ‘upsetting’ my family when I was so sure of my plan to commit suicide. I came very close to doing it too; I ran away to Canada (on a visa) with the intent of offing myself somewhere away from my friends and family, only when I got there I fell in love with the country and life didn’t seem to bad. Sadly, I had to come back. Now I feel trapped in a lie that I can’t un-tell, and in a life that feels like it doesn’t belong to me.Recently I’ve become a bit more self-accepting of my sexuality. I’ve even started dropping hints to some of my closest friends; starting with a man-crush on Chris Pratt, and gradually dialling that up to a point where I’ll comment on guys I find attractive. I’d even started to fantasise about the reality of coming out to my parents, thinking maybe their views had softened over the years.Today, my mother called for a catch up. The conversation, as ever, got to its usual point of: “Are you seeing anyone?”. I gave my usual reply “No”, and served up my usual excuses: “Work/study/life is keeping my too busy”. She adds: “Your father asked me the other day - ‘You don’t think he’s gay do you?’”. My heart stopped in my chest.Should I just say yes and get this off my chest once and for all? Is this my chance? Is she inviting me to tell her? She finishes: “You’re not gay though, are you?”. And it’s gone. her tone is sort of quietly disgusted, indicating there’s only one acceptable answer to that question.In a heartbeat, all those dreams of coming out just evaporated. Reality reasserted itself.Maybe one day I can escape to North America, away from my old life, and start again.