A Day at the Beach

A while ago, I went to Seaside with my (now ex) boyfriend. It was a gorgeous day! If you are familiar with the Oregon coast, you will know this doesn’t happen often. The sand was dry and warm, and the water was warm enough to walk in! Most people will go to the ocean’s edge and force themselves to walk in it and wait for their feet to go numb, but it was a legitimately nice day (a whopping 70 degrees!).  So we take off our shoes and walk in the water and as I am looking out on the ocean I have the compulsion to grab his hand.

The simplest of simple gestures to convey to the other person: “Hey, I like you. I’m glad that I am here with you.” But I can’t do it. The thought flutters across my mind but leaves quickly and I don’t let this thought convert to an action in any way, shape, or form. I can’t.

Why? Is it nerves? No. I feel more comfortable with him than any other guy I have been with. Is it fear of rejection? No. I know he wants to as well. Then what is it?

Fear. I am literally petrified at the thought of grabbing another man’s hand in a public place. I look at the people who are running around with their children, kites, and sand castles. What would they think? Would they be okay with it? Would they yell at me? Would they hit me? What would happen to us?

I wish nothing more than to be able to say screw it and grab his hand and walk down the beach holding hands with someone I like and care about, just like any straight couple could do without any problem or even a turn of a head. If we did that, every head would turn our way and it’s true because even as a gay man, when I see a gay couple holding hands I stare a little bit too long. Society has made it clear that homosexuals are not normal and have forced us to live in fear unless we are safe behind closed doors.

It got me thinking…

When I grow up and have a husband, and a dog, and a couple of kids… Will I even want to go out with them? A picnic in the park? Going to the beach? Back to school shopping? A day at the Disneyland? Will I ever be able to go out with my future family and not be afraid of the harsh glares, rude comments, and aggression toward us?

I know that the day will come when we look back and ask ourselves why we treated the gays so badly and why it was such a huge deal to us, such as how we view slavery now. We will wonder why we oppressed them for so long and made their life harder than it needed to be. Why we killed them on the streets because of their sexual orientation. But will I see that day? I honestly don’t know. I can’t say that I am too optimistic, sadly.