I used to dread October 11 because it is National Coming Out Day. There were years when I thought, "I'm just gonna tell everyone!" Then I wouldn't and I'd feel like a failure and a coward. Mostly, I'd feel like a liar. I had lied through high school, college and the first 10 years or so of my professional life. I did all the horrible things: having a girlfriend publicly and a boyfriend privately; going to gay bars wearing a baseball cap and looking over my shoulder, hiding any clues to my sexuality (pictures of guys, magazines etc) any time my family was coming over for a visit; and even hung up the cover of the "Sports Illustrated" swimsuit issue to REALLY throw 'em off the scent.
Oh, brother.

But the truth is, I now have an incredible amount of compassion for the closeted person that I was. It was A LOT of pressure and I'd be lying if I didn't admit to almost cracking many times. It was often a nightmare in my teens and early 20s. I was trying to make my mark in the world and didn't want that pesky gay thing getting in the way of my dreams. I was kind of a laser-beamed focused maniac in high achiever mode: student government leader, yearbook editor, tennis team in high school, then newspaper and magazine editor in college. I wanted to be liked and accepted by everybody and pretty much was. I remember one day in SDSU's Zura Hall, where I lived, one of the guys on our floor looked at me and said, 'You are the most normal guy in this dorm.' He meant it as a compliment and I took it as one. But it was a big lie.

Then, two years out of college, I found myself somehow at the Los Angeles Times and stayed for 11 years, most of them in the closet. But, unlike the Jim McGreeveys of the world, I stopped the whole straight charade in my mid-20s when I, once and for all, came out to myself, and admitted that the girlfriend thing wasn't really my bag and that the boyfriend thing absolutely was.

Still, I built a nice, big wall around myself to keep folks from sniffing around my private life which was having its share of turbulence on the guy front. I was all business in the newsroom and out in the field and matters of the heart were not to be discussed. I gave off the vibe of "I'm here to work and my personal life is none of your beeswax!"

I started to come out to my college friends, one by one. First to know was my first SDSU roomie who I told during a drunken phone call in which I slurred something like, "I like someone and it's a GUY!" Smooth. Anyway, I proceeded to tell a core group of straight male friends since I had no gay friends at the time! At first, I assumed they would react badly and each time, I had to down several beers (burp!) before I could manage to share the news. And boy, do I have good friends. They had questions, good ones. One of them, a cute blonde said, "Well. have you ever been attracted to ME?" I answered honestly: "Not really." He frowned and said, "Why not!?!" Told an ex-girlfriend which was really tough and emotional but she forgave me and we got to be really good friends with no secrets. When I told one of my roomates from my early years at The Times, I did it when we were sailing in Newport Harbor. He was so stunned that he basically lost control of the boat and we were soon headed for the Pacific Ocean. Another friend, a female, was pregnant when I popped the news and she said, "Are you trying to induce my labor!" All of them seemed to be so concerned about this burden I had been carrying and let me know that it was definitely OK. It gave me confidence to go on and I will always love those first friends I confided in for their sweetness and support.

Then it started to get fun. I started telling more casual friends and acquaintances just for kicks and as a warm-up if I had a major coming out scheduled in the days ahead. It was fascinating and exhilarating. To study reactions, to know who REALLY was OK with it, to know who you'd probably never see again...nor would you WANT to.
It was all going well until I ran out of people to tell. Well, there were plenty of people I hadn't told, like my co-workers (at least the ones I hadn't secretly dated or slept with) as well as my entire, huge, Hispanic family. I started telling other reporters in time. When I decided to leave The Times in 2000 to take a film reporting job at the Hollywood Reporter, I was pretty out to my new co-workers, even put a picture on my desk of the guy I loved at the time, and started covering movies. With that job a GRIND, I left after a year and hooked up with the Daily News. I think I am the gayest person a lot of my co-workers have ever met and now here I am doing this blog for the paper. Life. Is. Good.

But I had put off the family "outing" year after year after year. I read books on how to do it and even attended a Coming Out group at the Long Beach Gay and Lesbian Center every Friday night for a year in the mid-90s. It was/is complicated and difficult for reasons I can't go into here (I'll save those for the book!) but culture and religion have been two of the big divides. It wasn't until I was well into my 30s that I flat-out told my family who I really was. There was the shock to deal with (I thought for sure they knew!) and just that entire adult life you have led that they know nothing about. How do you fill them in? How do you stop compartmentalizing and start being the same integrated person with your family that you are with your friends and co-workers? I'm still figuring that one out but I have nothing but optimism that the truth will continue to set me free.

After all those years in the closet (and in therapy!), I think the biggest gift I've given to myself is gradually carving out a life that is honest and authentic and putting my energies, both personally and professionally, only into what or who I believe in and love. Everything else just feels like a waste of time.

Thanks for reading...
- greg