I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I started at Bennigan’s and quickly proved myself to be good at the job. The staff seemed to like me and I got along with most everyone.

As I got to know more people, I became aware that all but two of the male front house employees, were gay.

Two very butch, very masculine bartenders, who didn’t seem to mind that they were surrounded by gay men.

I mixed right in, but at this point in my life, I’d only ever told one person that I was gay. A woman I worked with at Wendy’s named Tammy. We sat on the curb at three in the morning, talking about life, and I confessed my deepest, darkest secret.

So here I am in the middle of a bunch of gay men, still pretending to be straight.

And for the most part everyone bought it.

Or so I thought.

Turns out that all the gay men thought I was gay.

All of the women thought I was straight.

Rumor had it there were bets floating around.

I played the straight game as best I could. Keeping my head low, and trying to not be obvious.

Fast forward to the first week of December. One of the servers is having her first annual Jewish/Christmas party.

What is that you ask?

It’s a party thrown by your co-worker, Stacy, who is Jewish, and her roommate who is not.

Fun fact, when I met Stacy she was the first Jewish person I’d ever met. Georgetown, KY was not known for its plethora of synagogues, and kosher delis.

I am invited to said party, as is most of the rest of the staff.

I get there and am hanging out with everyone, and flirting with Stacy more than I should.

To be honest, I’d flirted with her for a couple of weeks. It truly was not being malicious. I was just protecting my secret.

If you grew up in a small town in Kentucky, where you were called a f*g on the bus every day of the school year, you’d know why the secret was so dark and scary.

If you went to a conservative Baptist college you’d understand why the secret was so dark and scary.

Although, it turns out there was a LOT of gay people at my college, but most of us wouldn’t reveal this secret, till much, much later.

It was also the late 80’s, and people were starting to die, from what we had just discovered was an illness called AIDS. It was not a great time to be coming of age.

Back to the story.

As the night went on, I ended up making out with her. And if I remember correctly, may have even given her a hickey.

In her kitchen, next to the stove. I can still see the room in my head.

The night progressed, and I became a little tipsier, and a little less cautious.

And the next thing I knew, I was on my way to Duane’s apartment, where we made out in a hot tub, in the cold.

The next day I did the walk of shame showing up for my lunch shift, in the same clothes I’d worn to the party.

The cat was definitely out of the bag.

Everyone knew.

Bets were won and lost.

And Stacy didn’t speak to me for a very long 6 months.

If not longer.

Eventually she stopped hating me and we became the best of friends, and for the last year I spent in Atlanta, she was my bestie.

We are still in touch. I visited her in October on my road trip.

I’m sure she’ll tune in today for the next episode in this saga.

She may not know this, but her acceptance of me, paved the way for my acceptance of myself.

I’ll be forever grateful.