When I was two years old, my parents first took my brother and I to what soon became our favorite vacation spot—a family resort in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania simply known as Daniels. As kids, we spent a week there at the end of every August, just in time for one last hoorah before having to go back to school. I made a lot of good friends there, many of whom I still have today. Our families all knew each other and we all looked forward to our annual vacations together.
Change was inevitable. As time went on, many of us went to college and got jobs, so there were years when we couldn’t all be together. Everyone always did their best, however, to adjust their real-life schedules to allow time to join the rest of us for at least part of the get-away. Another noticeable change as we got older was that many of my friends started bringing their boyfriends or girlfriends on vacation with them. It almost felt like some sort of status gimmick. I was a New York City kid, eager to leave behind the reality of crowded city streets and congestion to escape to the rural grounds of the Pocono Mountains. I loved the fact that there were only two payphones on-site and I was out-of-touch with everything I had left back home for that one week. It was a release, a sort of liberation, from everyone and everything I hadn’t brought with me. I couldn’t understand why my friends wanted to bring their significant others with them. Weren’t the rest of us enough fun for them? Couldn’t they sacrifice just one week of cooing over this person to spend time with their “vacation friends” instead?
Looking back now, I realize I was just jealous. I had never really felt secure in my dating life simply because I knew I was hiding the truth from everyone, including myself. I had a steady boyfriend for years, and I ended up asking him to join my family for a few days on vacation one August. I guess I just wanted to fit in and I wanted everyone to see that I, too, had a boyfriend back at home and was just as popular, just as heterosexual, and just as comfortable in my own skin as everyone else. The only thing was, I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin. I knew I was going through the motions in the heterosexual dating world, but deep down, I also knew I would much rather have been dating girls than guys. The real reason I didn’t want to bring anyone on vacation with me was because I was hiding this secret from everyone, even burying it from myself. I was envious of my friends who had someone they really cared about and who cared about them so much that they wanted to spend all their free time together. I wanted to have those feelings so badly. I, too, wanted to find that special person to escape reality with—that person that I just couldn’t get enough of either.
After many August vacations in the Poconos, my coming out story finally began back at home. Eventually, I did meet someone I really liked and we started a relationship. When I was making my vacation plans for August, I was so excited to ask her to join me. Most people in my life didn’t know she was my girlfriend, so when I told her about the trip, I said that I was just going to tell everyone she was my best friend. I realized that this was a very typical thing for a closeted gay person to do, but I justified it because she really was my best friend at the time, not just my girlfriend. She reluctantly understood because that was the way it was most of the time anyway, especially when we were around my family and friends.
When we got to the resort, everything was great. Nobody knew she was my girlfriend, and she fit-in perfectly with all of my friends. I was so happy to be with her and I was so proud that she had wanted to spend that week on vacation with me.
One afternoon, she and I decided to go for a bike ride around the resort property. As I passed a few of my friends near the shuffleboard and bocce courts, I slowed down to say hello. Close by was this girl who was a few years older than me, a friend of some of my friends, but more of just an acquaintance to me. I’ll never forget the look on her face—a condescending smirk to match the sarcastic know-it-all question that she tauntingly spit out, “Is that your girlfriend?” Her inquiry was accompanied by a giggle as she gestured toward my friend. I immediately felt my face turn red, my heart beat faster, and my hands get shaky. I looked her straight in the eyes, raised the left side of my upper lip in disgust at her, and said, “No...she’s my friend.” Nobody else said a word, but the girl retorted, “Oh, I just assumed she was your girlfriend,” in her patronizing and disrespectful tone. I stared her down and sped off on my bike.
In a matter of seconds, I experienced one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I was horrified and ashamed. Of course my friend was, in fact, also my girlfriend, but I had never told anyone at the resort my secret and I had never indicated to anyone that I was a lesbian. I kept replaying the scene over and over in my head, wondering why that girl asked me that question. We weren’t even friends and hardly ever spoke to one another, so I couldn’t imagine why she would finally strike up a conversation with me and lead with that question unless it was to mock me. And even if it was my girlfriend, what would make this person think she would have been the one person at the resort that I would have shared that secret with?
I knew she had done it on purpose. She obviously had the idea in the back of her head about me being a lesbian and wanted to try to “out” me in front of a bunch of my friends. I guess she thought making me look bad would make her look good, as if she was the great solver of some complicated puzzle or as if she had answered the most difficult question of all time. If her goal was to show off and humiliate me, she accomplished it. Good for her. She made me second guess everything about myself—the way I looked, talked, dressed, acted—everything. I wondered about my body language or if there had been any signals I had given off or interactions with my girlfriend during the week that people could have misinterpreted or judged as being “gay.” I wondered what I had said or done to make anyone question my sexuality because I had worked so hard to hide it. I was devastated when she threw that question in my face—one stupid question asked to me by a person that really didn’t mean anything to me—ruined my day and made me worry for the rest of my vacation. I assumed that if she was questioning my sexuality and wasn’t afraid to ask me about it, she was probably also talking about me behind my back and probably causing others to wonder as well.
After all these years, I still remember how awful she made me feel. I didn’t know what path my life was going to take and I was definitely uncomfortable, scared, and embarrassed. I didn’t know any better at the time, and didn’t realize that I was just as normal as every one of my heterosexual friends. If I could go back in time, I’d look that girl straight in the eyes and proudly say, “Yes, she is.”
I learned an important lesson that day. The best advice I never received about embarrassing moments is to never put someone in an uncomfortable or embarrassing position like that girl did to me. I assured myself that I would never make a comment or ask a question to someone that could ultimately upset them or make them feel awkward, uneasy, or self-conscious—especially in front of other people. I promised to never intentionally try to make myself look or feel good by making someone else look or feel bad.
My favorite vacation destination, that little family resort nestled in the heart of the Pocono Mountains, closed its doors forever in 2014, but not before I got to share that important part of my life with the true love of my life. By that time, I had come out to most of my family and friends and for the two summers prior to the resort closing, I got to bring my now-wife there with me on my annual vacation. I finally understood why it was such a big deal for my friends to do that all those years ago. I had finally found that special person to escape reality with—that person that I just couldn’t get enough of and wanted to spend all of my free time with—and I didn’t care who knew.
After all these years, I’m glad I learned that valuable lesson from a mere acquaintance and I’m glad I didn’t make the same mistakes that she did. Being a person who puts others down to make herself feel better has only resulted in failed marriages, lost friendships, and meaningless relationships with guys who have treated her just as poorly as she’s treated them. I, on the other hand, am proud and honored to be in a wonderful marriage with a beautiful and intelligent person. The foundation of our marriage consists of mutual love and respect, building each other up rather than putting each other down.