So, yesterday was national coming out day -a day I didn’t know existed. My coming out story is probably no different than others. I was at work. My mom, who -through paranoia- was blessed with a sense of knowing when something bothered me, would ransack my room searching for any sign that I was up to no good. Whilst at work, she located my stash of created porn. I would take any image of a guy and create fanciful porn. Once found, she called me. The tone in her voice told me she knew. She was angry. When I got home, my stepfather was at the dining room table and she was by his side -along with his drunken friend. On the table, sprawled out for the world to see, was my treasured stash. They knew. I stood there to hear her lecture. My stepfather, drunk, just made slur after homophobic slur. I wanted to just disappear. The next morning, after I got ready for school, I went into the living room. My stepfather had a pack of Newport 100s on the table- my favorite brand of smokes at the time. He told me to sit down, grab my smokes, and talk. I was ready for the worst. To my surprise, he asked if I was honest with myself. I replied yes. He then said he already knew and -shock- that he was proud of me for being honest. While the past 20 years had seen us grow apart, I’ve not forgotten that day. I guess that’s reality.