My first counselor wore John Lennon glasses, jeans, and a thick sweater with a collar that cradled his inscrutable face. During the first three 90-minute sessions, he didn't say anything except to ask, quietly, "So how can I help you?"
He was the first person I told about the same-sex attraction in my life. "I think I'm a homosexual," I blurted at the beginning of the second session. There, I'd said it. Silence. I looked up at him and he didn't say anything. His face registered neither approval nor disgust.
"Well," he finally said, "go on."
My life's revolution started in that nondescript office. I had carried this huge, unbearable secret and denied it even to myself for many years .
Now, years later, this is one of the only things upon which advocates for same-sex activity and I agree: life is far better outside the closet than in it. The power the attraction holds over life drops sharply when we first admit its existence to ourselves and then to at least one other person whom we trust and know loves and supports us.
