Sequel: A New Kind of Denial ›
Undeniably In Denial
Camron
This is bad. Not good. At all. I can’t believe myself. I’m actually a bit angry with my mind right now. It’s being very unfair to me. There’s no way for it to happen! He’s not gay! He’s not even bi! How do I like him so much? I don’t want myself to like him. This is so not cool, brain. I don’t like you right now. You’re an evil little brain. I wonder if I’ll stop liking him if I tell myself I don’t.
I don’t like him. I can’t like him! There’s no way that I can like him. No, I do not like Reese. He is just a friend. Only a friend. Nothing more. He does not provoke any feelings from me other than that of friendship. I don’t like him as more than a friend. Not at all.
Oh who am I kidding? I do like him.
A lot.
Oh! Why? Why must I like someone I can’t have? Well screw me sideways.
He’s just so…I don’t know how to explain him.
Those super tight skinny jeans, that eyebrow ring that just peeks out every once and a while from under his bangs, the occasional eyeliner, the creativity that comes with (what I've seen of) his writing, his cute name, his cuter face. Oh, it’s just so hard not to like him.
“Gena, I, uh, I need some advise,” I said nervously to my little sister, peeking around the corner of her bedroom door hesitantly. I dreaded doing this and I only ever go to these extremes when I’m desperate for answers. “Do you have any time to help your loving big brother?”
“Hmm…well…”
“I got you those shoes a while ago, and you still haven’t paid me back. If you help me out, I might just forget about that. Please? You know I’m desperate.”
“And you’re also a huge kiss-ass, Camron. But I’ll help you. What’cha need?”
“I’m, uh, having some boy issues you could say,”
“And…?” she prodded.
“Well, you know my friend Reese?”
“Yea. The checkout guy at that store, right?”
“Uh-huh. Well, I think I like him as more than a friend,”
“And why’s that a problem for you? You never have issues asking guys out,”
“I’m aware of that, Gena. That’s not the problem. The problem is that he’s straight,”
“Oh,” she chuckled. “That would be a bit of an issue.”
“You think?” I asked sarcastically.
“No need to get snippy,” she said, getting a bit of a smirk on her face.
“What’s up with the evil smirk? What are you thinking?”
“Oh…nothing,” she said, attempting to sound innocent, but coming off as more scheming.
“Yea. Right,” I scoffed. “ What’s going on?”
“Okay, here’s the plan,” she started, smirking. “You don’t know if he’s for sure straight, do you?
“No, but when I mentioned I was gay, he never said he was,”
“Well, what did he do?”
“Asked if I was a cross dresser,” I said slowly, remembering what happened.
“What?” my sister squealed, giggling with me.
“I was buying the shoes for you and he asked if they were for a girlfriend, so I told him that would be impossible because I’m gay and then he asked if I was a cross dresser. So I told him no and that they were for you.”
“Okay, what’d he do next?”
“Told me a story about how his aunt once dated some macho dude that turned out to be a secret-cross-dresser,”
“Okay, well, he made a joke about it, which is good. That shows that he’s not a homophobe…or afraid of cross dressers,” she laughed.
“Well isn’t that reassuring?”
“Would you stop being so sarcastic? Or is that just too hard for you?”
“Oh, it’s much too hard,” I smirked right back at her. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”
“Okay, whatever. Anyways, he didn’t try to change the subject quickly after you said that, and he obviously doesn’t try to avoid you or cancel your guys’ plans. So it seems like he’s fine with you being gay and you being friends. But you told me he seemed kind of shy for the first half of the night when you guys went to that concert the other day. That, with everything else you’ve told me, hints that he might be in denial.”
“You really think so?”
“He’s only 16, right?”
“Yea, that’s what he told me,”
“He might only think it’s a phase. Or he’s just not out yet, so that’s why he didn’t tell you,”
“That would make sense. I thought it was a phase at first,”
“You were also 8 years old,” she added.
“Well, yea. That’s true,” I laughed, thinking about the day I told my parents I didn’t like girls.
“Mom? Dad? Can I talk to you guys for a little bit?” I asked my parents nervously one night after they put little Gena to bed. I wanted to wait until she was in bed, because I knew she probably wouldn’t understand what I was going to tell them about.
“Yea, honey, what’s the matter?” my mom asked, moving over a little so that I could sit down in between them.
”You can tell us anything, Cam,” Dad told me, squeezing my shoulders reassuringly.
“I think I’m gay,”
“What?”
“I think I’m gay,” I repeated.
“Well, what makes you think that?” my dad chuckled, obviously not believing me all that much.
“Girls are nasty,” I said, scrunching up my nose.
“Honey, you’re nine years old. Most little boys think girls are nasty,”
“I know that!” I giggled. “But they just say that. All my friends like girls. And I don’t; I like boys.”
“You’re sure about this, Camron?”
“Absotively, possolutely,”
“How do you know?”
“Steven McCarthy,”
“Who’s that?”
“The boy I like. He’s great,” I giggled some more. What can I say? I giggled a lot as a kid. “His eyes are so pretty and he’s really funny too.”
“You like someone already?”
“Mom,” I said in a sort of scolding told. “I’ve been gay for a while now. I just thought it was a phase at first. But I know I am now.”
“Well, son, if that’s the case, than I suppose there’s really nothing we can do about it besides support you,” my dad told me, squeezing my shoulders again. I was surprised that he was taking this news so well; usually the fathers are the ones that have the problems with their sons being gay. But my dad was fine with it. My mom was too. That’s what I love about my parents.
“Hey, yo, anybody in there?” my sister asked, knocking on my head lightly, bringing me back to reality.
“Uh, yea, sorry,” I chuckled.
“So, back to plan time,” she smirked, getting that evil look in her eyes again. “Do you have any gay friends that are kind of whorish? Or girl-friends that are kind of whorish, maybe?”
“That’s easy. You’ve met Sasha and Vince; they’re both whores,”
“They wouldn’t mind a lot of flirting with someone they don’t know?”
“Not at all. They’d probably enjoy that a lot. So, what have you got planned? And which one should I give a call?”
“How about both?” Gena smiled, raising her eyebrow up in question.
I don’t like him. I can’t like him! There’s no way that I can like him. No, I do not like Reese. He is just a friend. Only a friend. Nothing more. He does not provoke any feelings from me other than that of friendship. I don’t like him as more than a friend. Not at all.
Oh who am I kidding? I do like him.
A lot.
Oh! Why? Why must I like someone I can’t have? Well screw me sideways.
He’s just so…I don’t know how to explain him.
Those super tight skinny jeans, that eyebrow ring that just peeks out every once and a while from under his bangs, the occasional eyeliner, the creativity that comes with (what I've seen of) his writing, his cute name, his cuter face. Oh, it’s just so hard not to like him.
“Gena, I, uh, I need some advise,” I said nervously to my little sister, peeking around the corner of her bedroom door hesitantly. I dreaded doing this and I only ever go to these extremes when I’m desperate for answers. “Do you have any time to help your loving big brother?”
“Hmm…well…”
“I got you those shoes a while ago, and you still haven’t paid me back. If you help me out, I might just forget about that. Please? You know I’m desperate.”
“And you’re also a huge kiss-ass, Camron. But I’ll help you. What’cha need?”
“I’m, uh, having some boy issues you could say,”
“And…?” she prodded.
“Well, you know my friend Reese?”
“Yea. The checkout guy at that store, right?”
“Uh-huh. Well, I think I like him as more than a friend,”
“And why’s that a problem for you? You never have issues asking guys out,”
“I’m aware of that, Gena. That’s not the problem. The problem is that he’s straight,”
“Oh,” she chuckled. “That would be a bit of an issue.”
“You think?” I asked sarcastically.
“No need to get snippy,” she said, getting a bit of a smirk on her face.
“What’s up with the evil smirk? What are you thinking?”
“Oh…nothing,” she said, attempting to sound innocent, but coming off as more scheming.
“Yea. Right,” I scoffed. “ What’s going on?”
“Okay, here’s the plan,” she started, smirking. “You don’t know if he’s for sure straight, do you?
“No, but when I mentioned I was gay, he never said he was,”
“Well, what did he do?”
“Asked if I was a cross dresser,” I said slowly, remembering what happened.
“What?” my sister squealed, giggling with me.
“I was buying the shoes for you and he asked if they were for a girlfriend, so I told him that would be impossible because I’m gay and then he asked if I was a cross dresser. So I told him no and that they were for you.”
“Okay, what’d he do next?”
“Told me a story about how his aunt once dated some macho dude that turned out to be a secret-cross-dresser,”
“Okay, well, he made a joke about it, which is good. That shows that he’s not a homophobe…or afraid of cross dressers,” she laughed.
“Well isn’t that reassuring?”
“Would you stop being so sarcastic? Or is that just too hard for you?”
“Oh, it’s much too hard,” I smirked right back at her. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”
“Okay, whatever. Anyways, he didn’t try to change the subject quickly after you said that, and he obviously doesn’t try to avoid you or cancel your guys’ plans. So it seems like he’s fine with you being gay and you being friends. But you told me he seemed kind of shy for the first half of the night when you guys went to that concert the other day. That, with everything else you’ve told me, hints that he might be in denial.”
“You really think so?”
“He’s only 16, right?”
“Yea, that’s what he told me,”
“He might only think it’s a phase. Or he’s just not out yet, so that’s why he didn’t tell you,”
“That would make sense. I thought it was a phase at first,”
“You were also 8 years old,” she added.
“Well, yea. That’s true,” I laughed, thinking about the day I told my parents I didn’t like girls.
“Mom? Dad? Can I talk to you guys for a little bit?” I asked my parents nervously one night after they put little Gena to bed. I wanted to wait until she was in bed, because I knew she probably wouldn’t understand what I was going to tell them about.
“Yea, honey, what’s the matter?” my mom asked, moving over a little so that I could sit down in between them.
”You can tell us anything, Cam,” Dad told me, squeezing my shoulders reassuringly.
“I think I’m gay,”
“What?”
“I think I’m gay,” I repeated.
“Well, what makes you think that?” my dad chuckled, obviously not believing me all that much.
“Girls are nasty,” I said, scrunching up my nose.
“Honey, you’re nine years old. Most little boys think girls are nasty,”
“I know that!” I giggled. “But they just say that. All my friends like girls. And I don’t; I like boys.”
“You’re sure about this, Camron?”
“Absotively, possolutely,”
“How do you know?”
“Steven McCarthy,”
“Who’s that?”
“The boy I like. He’s great,” I giggled some more. What can I say? I giggled a lot as a kid. “His eyes are so pretty and he’s really funny too.”
“You like someone already?”
“Mom,” I said in a sort of scolding told. “I’ve been gay for a while now. I just thought it was a phase at first. But I know I am now.”
“Well, son, if that’s the case, than I suppose there’s really nothing we can do about it besides support you,” my dad told me, squeezing my shoulders again. I was surprised that he was taking this news so well; usually the fathers are the ones that have the problems with their sons being gay. But my dad was fine with it. My mom was too. That’s what I love about my parents.
“Hey, yo, anybody in there?” my sister asked, knocking on my head lightly, bringing me back to reality.
“Uh, yea, sorry,” I chuckled.
“So, back to plan time,” she smirked, getting that evil look in her eyes again. “Do you have any gay friends that are kind of whorish? Or girl-friends that are kind of whorish, maybe?”
“That’s easy. You’ve met Sasha and Vince; they’re both whores,”
“They wouldn’t mind a lot of flirting with someone they don’t know?”
“Not at all. They’d probably enjoy that a lot. So, what have you got planned? And which one should I give a call?”
“How about both?” Gena smiled, raising her eyebrow up in question.