I’m From London, England.

by michael

I miss one thing.

I grew up in a classic 70’s burb. No gays. All whites. Little life. Worse: nylon clothes. Worst: no deli.

At 13 I forged a heart-bond with a mate at school. We listened to Brahms and Gershwin together. Even Bartok. We went through puberty together. By 16, he was climbing through my bedroom window at three in the morning to talk about the world. Heck, we shared a girlfriend. Or two. We talked constantly about authenticity, faithfulness, character.

I wasn’t gay then and neither was he. But our friendship was deep. Confusingly deep.

As we grew up together, we faced and denied the complexities of our sexualities. But we never kissed. Our shared girlfriends were our proxies.

As we hit our 20’s I had that damascene moment and came out. It doesn’t matter whether he was gay or not. Perhaps the crisis was/is all mine. I still don’t know if I had fallen in love with him, or he with me.

But he has never spoken to me since then.

And that’s the thing I miss.


  1. A wonderfully written story! I think all of us who’ve lost a friend by coming out can relate.

  2. That is a real sad story. How you shared a childhood with a really good friend. Then into adulthood and it all changed. I think your friend will always miss as you as a great friend. Perhaps some day he will come to reflect on what has happened in his past. Then like a thunder bolt of lighting across a very dark blue sky. He will come to the conclusion. Why did i leave my best friend.

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