None of this fits the narrative I have been told, the one I have told myself.
Like me, Jeremy did not grow up bullied by his peers or rejected by his family. He was raised in a West Coast suburb by a lesbian mom. “And told me two sentences later that she knew I was gay. In our lifetime, the gay community has made more progress on legal and social acceptance than any other demographic group in history.
And there was Christian, the second guy I ever kissed, who killed himself at 32, two weeks after his boyfriend broke up with him.
Christian went to a party store, rented a helium tank, started inhaling it, then texted his ex and told him to come over, to make sure he’d find the body.
Public support for gay marriage has climbed from 27 percent in 1996 to 61 percent in 2016.
In pop culture, we’ve gone from “Cruising” to “Queer Eye” to “Moonlight.” Gay characters these days are so commonplace they’re even allowed to have flaws.
In a survey of care-providers at HIV clinics, one respondent told researchers: “It’s not a question of them not knowing how to save their lives.
It’s a question of them knowing if their lives are worth saving.” I’m not going to pretend to be objective about any of this.
I’m a perpetually single gay guy who was raised in a bright blue city by PFLAG parents.
I’ve never known anyone who died of AIDS, I’ve never experienced direct discrimination and I came out of the closet into a world where marriage, a picket fence and a golden retriever were not just feasible, but expected.
Until a few weeks ago, I had no idea he used anything heavier than martinis.