Truth behind the windshield...

Coming out can be no easy task for anyone; I am no exception. Difficult as the process is, my newfound freedom is liberating. I figure the process must take place slowly; telling only a few close friends identifies who my closest friends really are.

I've learned not to spread the news too far too fast. It is self-indulgent to dominate conversation with my own stuff. I told one old friend and asked him not to tell his wife, even if she threatened to break his fingers. He told her, though, because he knew if she discovered it in a roundabout way, she would break his knees too.

The first thing his wife did was run to the phone to tell folks I’d just as soon hadn’t heard the news like that. But that's part of the deal with coming out. It is easy to lose control of information. My friend explained that although coming out liberates me, it also places responsibility for the information on whomever I tell. I can only hope in the long run truth enhances his understanding.

I've found it's a lot easier to tell women than men because it pushes men's buttons and I never know which way they are going to jump. I told one woman, an old friend I knew was lesbian. I figured she would commiserate and could give me advice.

"Well, I guess you'll be coming down to the Front Range pretty often," she observed. "There aren't a whole lot of gay people up here in the mountains."


At first I thought I could meet men of similar persuasions without travelling, but that hasn't proven to be the case. It takes 8-10 hours round-trip to get to the city, depending on weather over the Continental Divide. A quick hookup doesn't seem appropriate, which among other things, argues for a longer-term, more lasting relationship...wherever.


Well, I guess it's time to go gas up the car.