2.a person who causes shame or embarrassment because of deviation from the accepted standards of his or her group.
Me in a nutshell, pretty much. There are many, many ways that I'm a black sheep.
#1 - My family. My family doesn't accept homosexuality and my mother made this blatantly clear when I tried to tell her. The only thing my mother and I have in common is we're both potty-mouthed people, and back in her day she was a partier. My mom and I get a long really well because she doesn't harp on me for being myself, but she's also very hostile at times, and she all the time is saying, "Blake, don't do that. Gay people do that," which makes it pretty much impossible to say anything to her about it. My dad and I don't have much in common. He loves to sail, I'm slightly terrified of open water. He did fun stuff as a kid, I sat inside, and he works in granite countertops, something that is far from fascinating to me, but I appreciate him a lot more than he knows. My sister, Brooke, and I couldn't be any more different. We don't look alike; she's a twig and I'm the whole tree, she's short, I'm kind of tall. Brooke is extremely conservative, and I'm definitely not. I'm loud and outspoken and downright blunt sometimes, and she's really quiet. I haven't always been this outgoing, and I understand where she's coming from, but she's all the time telling me to stop doing things that will embarrass her.
#2 - The South. I'm nothing like these people, the ones with their trucks on rims taller than me, the ones with plaques of deer heads and anything else they could get taxidermied. I try my hardest not to blend in with the "typical southern good ole' boy". I try and keep my accent under wraps and I will never wear cowboy boots or a cowboy hat seriously. When my parents thought I was old enough to buy my own clothes (or rather go with my sister so she could pick out stuff because "I had no sense of style"), I tried to buy graphic t-shirts. I would bring them home and my mother would be like, "Blake what the hell is this? That's trashy." And I would have to take it back. The only thing that was acceptable for her were polos and plaid shorts. I loathe polos, but that's all I owned for the longest time. I had a few pairs of shorts and a plethora of polos and I just mix and matched and looked like everyone else on the street. Ew. I finally broke out of that this year when I began making my own money and buying my own clothing, I could fulfill my love for bright colors and weird patterns.
So, now that we've got that out of the way, let's get on with the life story, shall we? Fun times ahead.
It started when I was a baby, not like I remember it, but it did. As far back as I can remember, I always played with my sister and her friends because I never had any guy friends in my neighborhood. I was friends with Tyler and Caleb, but then Caleb moved, and one day Tyler asked if I wanted some Skoal, I didn't know what it was but it gross, and I told my mom what he offered me and then we never really played with each other anymore. When Jessica and Eric moved in next door, I remembered Jessica from outside the kindergarten building at Chickasaw Elementary and ran over to say "Hi!" Her brother was two years older than her, making him one year older than me, so the four of us, including Brooke, became good friends & did everything together. When Brittni moved in down the street, her little brother Preston and I became friends, but he was a lot younger than me so I got annoyed with him quite easily. I remember I was never really interested in playing things they wanted to play, but always wanted in on what Brooke and Jessica were planning.
Somewhere along the lines of my childhood, Brooke, me, and my mother were in Toys 'R' Us and Brooke was picking out a Barbie. I guess I said something like "I want one, too!" because my mom bought me the counterpart to Brooke's. I also seem to remember having a Tommy doll that I played with allllll the time. Anyway.
The four of us got into this weird Teletubby phase where we always played with them, that's pretty gay in itself, if I may say so. We took them everywhere. Once for Halloween, Brooke and I were ghosts, we dressed out Teletubbies as ghosts and carried them in a little purse under our sheet. Wow. I can't believe I'm revealing this type of information to the public. Once Eric left Clark when I was in 8th grade we never talked anymore. He was a high school student, too cool to talk to a middle schooler, and that's when I really started hanging around Brooke and her friends.
That's an overview, let's go deeper.
When I started Clark in fourth grade there was a boy named Parker. When I first met him I immediately started having thoughts like, "Wow, I want to be his friend.." and I didn't know why, and it scared the hell out of me. I never talked to him and had no reason to want to get to know him; I wasn't being friendly because it's not like we'd talked to have something in common to want to get to know more about him. It was my first little boy crush, and I can admit this now. How awkward is that? Being brought up always about love between a man and a woman and that's how it's supposed to be, only to have floaty moments with someone of the same sex. That's where my mask was created.
I'd only had this feeling one other time in my life, and it was the first day of kindergarten. I walked in and saw a girl sitting at a table with another girl, and immediately told my parents "I want to sit at that table!" and we became best friends immediately. This girl, who will remain anonymous by request, and I were practically inseparable. We often had the same class throughout elementary school and when we got to middle school I worked up the guts to send her a "Will you go out with me?" note through the other girl at the table. When I got it back I opened it with a gulp and saw: "☑ yes"
I kept that note until well into high school. We always wrote each other little "I love you" notes and talked on the phone about nothing for hours, but something was always beating in the back of my head. It never felt right. We never held hands, we kissed each other on the cheek once or twice, and something about the whole thing felt off. Eventually, she transferred to a different school in the middle of 7th grade and I never knew why, but we decided it'd be better off to just be friends.
After that, I knew something wasn't right. I was upset by her absence and by how we didn't talk much, even when we saw each other again in high school, but I didn't really miss our relationship. I mean, it was a sweet thing, but I felt like I was lying to her the whole time.
When I got to 9th grade, it really hit. I knew I didn't feel the same way towards girls when all of my friends would make exclamations at the size of someone's breasts and I would just kind of look at them like they were stupid, and especially when I started getting shy around my guy friends, ultimately getting to the point where I alienated myself from them due to the risk of them finding out.
I faked crushes on girls in my grade to satisfy my parents, I faked being crushed when they said they weren't interested, I embarrassed myself multiple times by asking people out all so I had a reason to try and see what my parents thought about it, though I dare not say anything.
I was pretty friendless my freshman year. It was beyond lonely, I wasn't interested in being a jock, a player, or the "cool kid." I think it was my sophomore year when I met up with Brandie and Sheridan in Biology. I knew Brandie in 4th grade, and Sheridan and I were good friends until she transferred in 8th grade. They were my core group of friends from then on. They started to hint at my gay tendencies sometimes, and Brandie had a crush on me at some point. I was okay faking liking someone I knew wouldn't like me back, but I didn't have the heart to play with someone else's emotions and act like I felt the same way they did. I was beyond honest when I told her, "I don't want it to mess up our friendship."
Junior year I met India through Brandie. India is pretty much one of the only things that I'm glad I went to Satsuma for, because had I not, I wouldn't have met the amazing girl.
It started off rocky, she recently told me she couldn't stand me when we first met, but somehow I grew on her. Junior and Senior year were pretty much one in the same. They kept hinting at it, and one day we were leaving India's house and someone made a "Blake, you're gay" comment, so I took a gulp of air and said, "Only half.."
Immediately, Brandie slammed on brakes and every set of eyes in the car turned to look at me with their mouths wide open. Wait, what? Did I just come out? It was mad awkward. I had repressed my feelings early on and never imagined myself with a guy or a girl, I had grown content with loneliness.
When I was confronted to talk about it, I wasn't sure what to say. Questions like "What's your type?" "Who do you like?" "Are you a top or a bottom?" came flying at me and I had no idea how to answer it. I didn't have a type, I didn't let myself like anyone, and hello, I'm still a virgin, so how would I know?
Senior year it somehow got around, and I guess I became the token fat, gay, emo kid of the school. This was during the "MySpace Era" as I call it, and everyone had one. I started getting anonymous messages calling me a faggot and how I should kill myself and other things. I'd never really been the biggest ball of sunshine, and I tended to try and carve things into my thighs with a diabetic needle from time to time, so messages like these were just the cherry on top of the sundae.
Graduation, at last. I can get the hell out of here and forget I ever met these people. I don't have to look at them again, and I can finally be around people who are more accepting in a college environment. That was the light and the end of a very long, dark tunnel.
My family started it's annual beach trip that year, we were at Caribe in Gulf Shores, my mother and I fought the whole time, no surprise there. I don't know what got into me, but when I got back I tried to tell my mom I thought I was gay.
[You can read the whole story of that here.] Needless to say, it didn't go over so well. I started medicine for depression after I sat in my room and hoped that something would spontaneously fly through my window and end my time on this shitty planet.
Brooke always tried to help. She'd always ask what was wrong, but I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell anyone. There are secrets, then there are secrets. Brooke can't keep secrets. Everything I told her in confidentiality eventually found its way back to my parents' ears. It took a year of convincing for my parents to believe it was a phase. I don't know what they think about it now, though, honestly, and I'm too terrified to find out.
First year and a half of college sucked pretty bad. I had one friend, Tara, whom I cherish dearly. We were nerds. Huge nerds. After all, we met because we were both computer majors. I spent most of my time hanging out with her. The summer before my sophomore year, I was at her house and she asked the question that I always dreaded hearing, but I was prepared to answer it.
"So.. Blake. What's.. your sexual orientation?"
I immediately blurted out gay. I assumed she'd figured it out, especially when she said "I'm pretty sure I know, but just to make sure.." before she asked. I was like, oh, okay, she knows.
Wrong.
"Oh.. Really? I thought it was the other, actually. Uhm.. well. That's awkward, because I kind of.. thought of you as more.. than just a friend.."
Damn it. Not again.
There's nothing I hate more than someone having feelings I can't return.
Our friendship kind of fell apart from there. We didn't talk as much and when we did it was pretty awkward.
January 2010 I went to Passion with Brooke's church group because she asked if I'd go. I believed in God, but I hated organized religion. I still do. There's too many rules and regulations and I feel people are being huge hypocrites when they boast and preach to "live by the spirit" yet set all kinds of high standards and rules for the community.
That's another story though.
Anyway, I had some major change of heart there and that's when life took its first positive turn in a long, long time; with it's costs.
Due to such a massive change, a lot of my previous friends stopped talking to me. This hurt, but I kept going.
Since then, I've dropped like ~50 lbs or something.
Due to the weight loss, I gained a little confidence in myself. When I moved on campus, I wasn't really planning to go buck wild and break out onto the scene because I was scared out of my wits to tell anyone anything.
Here's where Daniel enters the picture, and inadvertently drags me out of my shell and onto the active LGBT community stage. I reconnected with India, and felt happy again.
I'm at a point in my life where I feel I'm standing on a mountain of my past troubles and can see over the heads of all who looked down on me.
I am living proof, and I honestly and whole-heartedly say this to anyone who needs to hear it:
Things do get better.
It may not feel like it, but it takes time.
xoxo
B
