Hi, I'm Tony

Hey I'm Tony, I just wrote a short story for narrative writing practice. It's a real story, a bit about my coming out, a bit about my self-realization. There's no purpose to writing this except for if you just enjoy reading narratives. Feel free to critique the writing style or comment on the subject matter.http://ift.tt/2uivbcV grew up in Washington state, and outside of Seattle, it's a very conservative and very intolerant place. Not intolerant in that we burned minorities or homosexuals, but in that as long as you adopted our way of life, you were just fine. But if you told people you were gay, if you spoke Spanish too much when white people were around, or if you performed any sort of activist nonsense, then you were frowned on and friends straight up stopped talking to you in pursuit of simpler social lives.Growing up like this, I never entertained the idea of being gay, I never looked too long at men after wrestling practice in the shower, never paid much mind to weird feelings I'd get when my man crush was around, and never really thought it was weird because I knew for a fact that I simply would never be able to act on the impulses even if they were reflective of my sexuality. I wasn't in denial or in the closet; it's a hard distinction to make. I didn't feel like I was so scared to upset my life by coming out that I hid myself, I didn't feel social pressure to be straight... I was just simply never in an environment that the thought could develop into anything more sophisticated than shifts of consciousness or random stirrings of desire.That all changed when I moved to Orlando, probably the second most gay city, next to San Francisco.I came on the Disney College Program, fresh out of my military training program (ROTC) from which half of my class was cut before commissioning due to a sequester. I was looking for a change to offset the depression I was in over being honorably discharged because of budget cuts, and I couldn't think of anything more fitting than running away to a place farthest away, contiguously.Now, if you aren't aware, Walt Disney World employees are primarily post-high school/undergraduates looking for a quick buck and a decent company on their resume, so there's a lot of young people, men and women. The number one social rule for all men in the company was "gay until proven straight", so not only was it a very promiscuous atmosphere, it's safe to say half of the men were gay, and even a fair number of women were lesbians.Of my 5 roommates, two were gay, and the other 4 of us straight. From the very beginning, we're laughing among ourselves trying to figure out who was actually in the closet to satisfy the 1:2 gay/straight ratio permeating the company. Turns out it was this guy.My in-room mate was one of the gay dudes, and the other three straight dudes were actually very boring and didn't like to go out to bars, two of them didn't even drink... who the fuck knows how they survived their internship without a drink. I don't. That's for sure. The point is that the only ones I had to go out with, then, were the two gay dudes in the apartment. Since I was outnumbered, but also honestly didn't care as long as the drinks were cheap, we would always go to the gay clubs.We went a many times, I was hit on A LOT, always politely rebuffing the advances and explaining my situation best I could in the EDM din of the bar or dance flood. Then I felt a world-shifting event the moment this dude made eye contact, and my stomach dropped to my feet when he cracked a smile at me in the flashing lights. He wasn't the most attractive guy in the club, not the most fit, not the tallest, not one of the pampered eye-brow-plucked bronzer-skinned tight-shirt-wearing dudes I was used to denying. He was just a dude. With a dick. And he was smiling at me.It was feral, I was obsessed, all instilled social norms, layered on during my 20 years spent in Washington flowed off me like melting ice. The ice came back when I saw him start pushing guys aside, making his way to where I was sitting at the bar. He walked up, very unassuming and chill, politely asked for the seat next to me, sat himself, and leaned in. He asked if I were gay. My face was military composed. Ice. I told him no. He smiled again, sadly, and just said "well, shit." and walked away.I spent my entire life not realizing just how guarded I was about my sexuality, in actuality in full and complete denial despite what I've ever told anyone in the past who may have sensed it before even I did, and was bold enough to ask. I was so ice cold and so asexual because of the oppression of minorities in my home town and I completely dashed this man's hopes.Fast forward a few hours, we're leaving, and I feel a tug on my hand. I was used to this feeling, and I instinctively pulled away my hand, half-turned, fake smile and disingenuous apology on my face, and he rolled his eyes at me. That feeling again; his eyes were very pretty, I hadn't noticed them earlier. Green. The melting sensation was slower this time, less like warming water, more like humid air. My face was turning red in its usual betrayal of breaking composure and I can feel that my military bearing wasn't in place. He asked me again "are you gay?"I could only shrug. That moment lasted a long time until I finally just handed over my phone, which he dialed in his number, and pressed the call button so he could log mine as well.Fast forward again, we're dating, and my mother is picking up on what would be the very first serious relationship I was in, and also completely hiding across the distance. My best friend was an elderly Filipina lady who was my manager at Disney World, and I hung out with her often and posted pictures daily. My mother gets me on the phone and says "ok, either you're gay, or you're dating a cougar. Which is it." I asked her what she'd do if I was gay, and she laughed and said "ok, but Darnell (Filipina friend) is a nice lady. I'm sure there's a reason..." obviously instinctively denying the possibility of homosexuality as I had been for 21 years.After assuring her my kink wasn't old Asian women, but actually dudes, it took a few days for her to talk to me again. Once she recovered from her shock, thanks to my level headed sister who was with her the whole time and refreshingly apathetic about who I like to fuck in my spare time, I had no one left that I cared to hide this new-found trait from. I posted about it on facebook announcing my permanent relocation, and ended it with a very nonchalant reference to my boyfriend. Those who cared enough to read the entire post would see the message at the very bottom. Those who would scroll right past my wall-o-text were none the wiser.Many stories condense: I lost a lot of friends, gained a very small few (with whom I eventually lost because of distance and neglect of attention), and learned that even in fully coming out, I was still very modest about my sexuality, very private about my life, and preferred to let people make their assumptions based on our social interactions as opposed to me resolutely declaring "Hi, I'm Tony. I'm what you call a homosexual" to everyone I meet.