Party of One (8 page)

In 1991, I was back at Holy Cross, grateful for the second chance it had given me, yet also suffering from a debilitating cocktail of sexual frustration and loneliness that I can only call
hornliness.
The campus's situation on the side of a massive hill in central Massachusetts forced everyone walking class-to-class and party-to-party to tackle inclines and stairs, which meant that there were alarmingly shapely thighs and calves as far as the eye could see, but none for me to touch. There was literally not one openly gay student or faculty member. It was like being starving and penniless outside a Krispy Kreme that's just lit its
HOT DOUGHNUTS NOW
sign. Excruciating.

Luckily for me, there was some rock-solid yearning music in 1991. The bands coming out of Boston sounded the way a sweater feels. They were autumn in aural form. I had The Lemonheads, The Blake Babies, Juliana Hatfield, and Buffalo Tom on a constant loop in my head and my Volkswagen Jetta.

On the other hand, there was also an entire Suzanne Vega album called
99.9F°
that was largely a concept album about AIDS, and I had a scorching case of HIV-infection paranoia. I'd occasionally been brave enough to drive myself down to Boston and explore the gay bars, where I met a handful of guys from other, more diverse schools. I hooked up with a couple of them over the course of a few months—just innocent, over-the-jeans kind of stuff—but I was so skittish and so poorly informed that I became convinced I was HIV-positive, and the fear drowned out the thrill. There was nowhere on campus to get tested because Holy Cross was a Catholic school, and I couldn't even conceive of the level of panic I'd face waiting to get a result at the free clinic, and then what if someone drove past while I walked in? Then they'd know, then
everyone
would know. Staying terrified at all times and pretending everything was great felt like the wiser option. My full AIDS action plan was to steer clear of that Suzanne Vega album.

I wanted to be out of the closet for one reason and one reason only: to find a boyfriend. I wanted to send up a flare, a signal that said “I'm here and I'm gay and everything's fine,” and if anyone saw it and came to find me, the fact that everything was not at all fine wouldn't even matter anymore, because we'd have each other.

I was too afraid to do it. But I had to do something.

The only thing I could think of was to write an anonymous letter to the school newspaper,
The Crusader.
I could tell my story. I could reveal that I was here, an actual homosexual, walking among the rest of the student body. And I could withhold my actual name. And then I could listen closely for everyone's reactions. I could force a conversation.

So I wrote the letter.

I agonized over the wording. I was determined not to sound sad or terrified, although I was. I avoided anything that might make it sound like I had anything approaching sexual feelings, as though I were not an anthropomorphic cartoon boner at every minute of every day. I was very careful not to sound like a human being with needs; it was too risky. I dropped the letter into the campus mailbox and I waited.

And they published it, word for word. It was right there when the paper came out Friday morning, dead center in the op-ed section. I have typed it out and included it here in full, and it is all I can do not to type in little interjections from the present day. Things like “I KNOW,” and “SOMEONE PLEASE HELP THIS BOY,” and “SOMEONE PLEASE SLAP THIS BOY.”

To the editor:

This may very well be the first letter this publication has ever received which has been inspired by a correction. Recently, a correction ran which stated that the recent forum on Gay and Lesbian rights was not the first time homosexuality was addressed on campus, that indeed two years ago a forum on sexuality was held, and that homosexuality was discussed there. The more I thought about that fact, the more absurd it seemed. Homosexuality has been discussed openly twice in 148 years at this school. There's something wrong with that. I love Holy Cross, normally I would be the last to criticize it. However, speaking as a homosexual man, I feel that something needs to be done about this.

As I stated, I am a homosexual. And despite what some of you might think, I'm not alone here. Statistically speaking, ten to fifteen percent of the United States population is gay. That means there are anywhere between 260–390 gays and lesbians on this campus. We're everywhere, and we don't fit the stereotype. Speaking of myself, I don't lisp, can't decorate a room to save my life, and have never, ever vogued.

I have even been on a sports team and dated women. Like most of the gays and lesbians on campus, I'm your typical Holy Cross student. Look around you next time you go to Stoney's or Joe De's. Chances are at least one of the people you came in with is gay. We're your friends, your roommates, your teammates. And, be assured, we're not going to hurt you. Nothing could be further from my mind than being anything other than friends with the men I hang around with, and I know that the rest of us on campus feel the same way. Please don't feel threatened.

The reason why this is all so important to me right now is that I'm currently in the process of “coming out of the closet” and I have a few words of advice for anyone who's reading this. First for all you straight people out there: as I said before, you have a gay friend. And chances are you don't know it yet. The reason why you don't is because your friend is scared to death to tell you. You may be the most understanding person in the world, but the fact is that we live in a homophobic society. Gays are discriminated against on a regular basis, and are almost always referred to as something less than respectable.

It's downright terrifying for someone to tell his/her friends that he/she is part of this socially unacceptable part of the populace.

However, I do have faith in the students here. I think we're all enlightened enough to overcome our preconceived ideas and accept things which are foreign to us. And if any of you out there aren't, then you have the problem. You can change your mind, we can't change our sexuality. Homosexuality isn't a sin, a crime, a disease or even (in the broader scheme of things) a problem. Homophobia is. But it's easily overcome. You owe it to your friends and to yourself to take the steps toward broadening your mind. And should your gay friend ever “come out” to you, please remember a few things. First: he/she is the same person he/she was before you knew about it. He/she is not suddenly your enemy. Second, it takes a lot of courage for someone to “come out,” even more when one is “coming out” to a close friend, since they risk losing that friendship which they treasure. Recognize that. You may be completely repulsed by the idea of homosexuality, but that doesn't mean you need to be repulsed by your friend.

For those of you out there who are gay, I ask only this: don't be afraid to tell your friends. I know what it's like in the closet, since for all intents and purposes I'm still there. It's no fun. Yes, it's difficult to tell people, but it's worth it. You owe it to your friends and ultimately to yourself to be honest. I'm still not ready to let the world know, but after having told a few of my close friends here, I can honestly say I don't regret it. I remember vividly the first time I told someone here. I hemmed and hawed and talked circles around it for hours, then finally just came right out and said that I'm gay. I was scared to death to look my friend in the eye, I was prepared for him to get up and leave. But he didn't. He nodded and said “Okay,” and smiled, and that was that. We talked about it, we even laughed about it, and at the end of the night, he thanked me for being honest with him. I can definitely say it was the best feeling I'd ever had. And the next day, we could still talk about it. We still do. No, he's not gay, and no, I had no ulterior motives in telling him. The only thing that's changed between the two of us is that our friendship has grown that much stronger. I'm not saying it's always going to be that easy for you, but it will always be that gratifying.

You'd be surprised how open-minded your friends can be, and you won't believe how great it feels to have that weight off your shoulders. This may be hard to accept, but you'll never be “straight.” You can, however, be straight with your friends about your sexuality, and that's about the most admirable thing I can think of.

I didn't set out to change the world with this letter but I hope I've changed some people's outlook on things a little bit. Homosexuality will always be an issue. Just because Holy Cross is so conservative doesn't mean it should be swept under the rug here. I hope I've created something that will be debated among friends, something that can be talked about honestly and unapologetically. I sincerely hope that in the future, when the subject of homosexuality is discussed, all people here can take the steps either to come out of the closet, or to make it easier for others to do so. Maybe then, we can all talk about it the way we talk about other issues. Let's hope it's more than twice in the next 148 years.

Gay at the Cross

Please know that I am now, having typed that out in 2016, in a full-body cringe. But in 1991, I read it proudly, as though some smarter person had written it. I went over it again and again. I had done it. I was ready to see how the rest of the world would respond.

People responded in one of two ways:

But category two was a fraction of the size of category one, and I began to tell a few friends, and then they told a few friends, because that's the way a small college works, and then suddenly I was out. People knew. It was a
thing.
Someone would come up to me in a bar and say: “Dave, I think my little brother is gay; what should I do to make him feel comfortable enough to tell me?” And I would answer: “What is your name?”

Being out ended up being a nonissue. We were learning to be good little Catholics at Holy Cross, acknowledging but never really talking about the hard stuff.

The letter got the Chaplain's Office talking. Holy Cross is run by the Jesuits, a progressive order of priests (as orders of priests go), and it turned out they were waiting for someone to bring the issue to their doorstep. What they decided to do was issue a poll, through students' PO boxes, about sexual issues. Are you sexually active? Do you use contraception? How would you describe your sexuality: homosexual, heterosexual, or bisexual? The poll was a little intrusive and clumsy, but what are you going to do with celibates? I filled mine out, folded it up, sent it back through the mail, and began actively counting the minutes until the results would be published.

I went to a meeting of the Campus Activities Board, and someone pulled that poll out from their backpack, and my friend Ana took a close look at it, and said, “Oh, no.”

“What?” I said.

“I made a mistake on this,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“See here where it says, ‘How would you describe your sexuality?' ‘Homosexual' is listed first, and I checked that one off. I didn't even read it. I just went for what was first.”

I thought it was funny, until the results were published in
The Crusader
a couple of weeks later. Of the respondents, two said they were homosexual. One of them was me, and one of them was Ana, who wasn't.