PRIDE MONTH

The Hardest Part Of Being Gay

Maybe one day the world will be just, dreams will be real, love will be pure, and these stories need not be written anymore

Person With Body Painting photo by on

Kris, my boyfriend, just hung up after another awkward call with his mom. She was trying to set him up with yet another girlfriend. I’ve lost track of how many times this has happened. Each time, the phone call ends unpleasantly, no matter how pleasant it starts.

I want to come out, he says. But I’m scared I would lose my family. I’m listening to his voice shake, eyes avoiding mine. I don’t know how to comfort him. The weight of his words hangs in the air, pressing on my chest.

I’m remembering our first date, the excitement and nerves. We shared secrets in a quiet restaurant corner and stole glances. It was a time when we were far away from overwhelming jobs, relationships, and societal expectations.

I’m remembering the first time he introduced me to his closest friend as his boyfriend. The nervous smiles, the acceptance that followed. We laughed, knowing this was a milestone.

I’m remembering our first trip together, just the two of us. Exploring new places, discovering shared joys, and overcoming the occasional hiccups.