LUCY GRINDON, HOST: Now, here's the first in our running commentary series. David Newtown shares his struggle with sexuality and with self-acceptance.
DAVID NEWTOWN: When I was 13, I realized I liked a boy. His name was Tristan. He had big hands and played football for our 8th grade team. I was tall and nerdy and didn’t really like sports. He was kind and liked to give hugs. I never told him I liked receiving them.
I didn’t want to be gay. I remember any time I saw a gay person on a screen, their gayness was a spectacle. At recess, people would throw around “gay” as an insult. Guys would gossip in the way eighth grade guys do, with snark and dripping disdain. I wanted to be liked, and I wanted to hide any part of myself that would jeopardize that.
I wasn’t afraid of being disowned by my parents; they were English professors and we listened to NPR every morning. But my mom would often daydream about the kids I’d have some day. I feared disappointing them, of not fulfilling the future they wanted for me. So I decided I could bottle up my feelings and be the son I thought they wanted.
When I was 16, I realized I liked a boy. His name was John. He was the concertmaster of our orchestra, the goalie for our soccer team. We went on a spring break trip to Italy, and our teacher asked me to room with him and his friends. I had an even-keeled personality, she said. I’d temper them out.
The second night of the trip, people snuck out to the roof of our hotel. The hours turned until just John and I remained. I watched him smoke his cigarettes and we shared the last of a bottle of wine under the stars. He told me the pressures he was under. He told me his fears, his hopes and every one of his dreams. I listened quietly.
A few weeks later, a girl asked me out the day before the big spring fair. Here was the answer to my problem. If I started dating Sara Beth, I didn’t need to worry about John.
The next day, I tried to avoid her, but she found me and slipped her hand in mine. When I could, I stole away and found John. “Do you remember when you told me your fears? When you told me your hopes and dreams?” He nodded.
“I think I like someone, a guy. That guy is you.”
He smiled. “Thank you for telling me. I’m straight, but I have some gay friends. You don’t have to worry; you’re still my friend.”
I went back to Sara Beth and slipped my hand in hers. We didn’t last.
I ran off to college in New York City and took advantage of the distance from everyone who knew me before. I still kept the fact I now dated men a secret from friends and family. I think I didn’t want to destroy whatever perception they had of me in their heads.
Then when I was 19, I met Khrys. We met online and agreed to meet for coffee. We took a walk in Riverside Park, and afternoon slid into evening. When we kissed, I suddenly had a feeling I had never had before. I could imagine being happy. And I realized my happiness was more important than what anyone thought of me.
Now it’s 6 years later, and we’re still together. My parents ask about Khrys whenever I call home.
David Newtown, Columbia Radio News