Today is my coming out day

Or at least the anniversary of it.

It was 1987 and the summer between my junior and senior years at Stanford. I was living on campus with my girlfriend Jane; we had swapped roommates with another couple in order to make that work.

Jane and I had a wonderful summer. We had been dating for a little more than a year; I loved her. But when I was alone--late at night as she lay sleeping, or as I walked across campus--my mind wandered. And now that summer was coming to an end, Jane had headed back east to spend a few weeks with her family.

One of the things I remember most about Stanford was running. I ran around campus. I ran up in the foothills to the Stanford dish, the huge radiotelescope that was a major area landmark. I ran at the track. I ran alone and with friends. For a brief time I joined the Stanford Running Club. I ran during the daytime. I ran at night. I was young and lean and--while running--free.

This night, a Monday, I was running around campus. I think I must have been nearing the end of my run as I was on Serra Street, close to the apartment building where we lived. And I think my mind must have been spinning, struggling to figure out who I was. Or maybe it wasn't. The only thing I remember clearly is that I stopped running, not far from the Stanford Federal Credit Union, and said, outloud, "I'm gay."

I don't remember what I thought next. I don't remember what happened that night or the next day. But that following Thursday I made my way to the End Up in San Francisco. I worked at the library, and I'd occasionally sneak a copy of the B.A.R., a gay newspaper, into the reading lounge area, slip it inside another newspaper, and read it. The End Up's weekly wet jockey shorts contest had always caught my eye, and I had decided to check it out.

Easier said than done. It was easy to find the End Up. It wasn't so easy to go in. I sat in my car, just across the street from the front entrance, unable to get up the nerve to go in. Eventually a drag queen knocked on my window; when I rolled it down slightly, she asked if she could come in and have sex with me. Roll 'em up! I was out of there so fast and back on the road home.

But a week later I was back. I found the courage to get out of the car. I paid and went in. And there, on the dance floor in front of me, was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen: men dancing together.

I was home. :-)

Jane returned a week or so later. I couldn't yet explain the transformation I had experienced; instead I could only lamely say that "I needed to find myself." To make the situation more difficult, Jane's wait list request to move into my senior dorm had been approved. She'd be in the room directly below mine.

Once the fall quarter began, I discovered a gay and lesbian coming out group at The Bridge on campus. I began to form my first gay male friendships, and I had begun coming out to my close straight friends. But Jane was still in the dark.

Then the end of October approached, and I again found myself at the End Up on a Thursday, this time two days before Halloween. That night I met Tony who became my first boyfriend. He invited me back to the city for Halloween in the Castro. He was a tiger, complete with face paint. I, a bit more naive, was dressed as Mr. Bubble. We had dinner at the Patio Cafe on Castro Street before joining his straight friends at 1015 Folsom for dancing. The only thing I really remember from being there was hearing Book of Love's "Boy" as we sat at a table:

I want to be where the boys are
But I'm not allowed
I wait outside of the boy's bar
I wait for them to all come out

Eventually we made our way back to the Castro for more people-watching. We made out in the car for an hour (or two?) before walking down Market Street to get back to the festivities. It was the first time I had ever held hands with a man in public, and I was surprised by the number of smiles that people gave us as we passed. The reason became clear when I looked at Tony--his face paint was smeared... and my face was a mirror image, lol.

An hour later, standing in front of Castro Street storefront, we made out for what seemed like forever.

I cannot pass that place today without remembering what has always been the most romantic evening of my life.

Back in the dorm the next day, I saw Jane. She remarked that I was in a good mood. I said that I was. "You met someone," she guessed.

"I did."

"What's her name?"

"His name is Tony."

"He's a guy?"

"Yes."

"You're gay?"

"Yes."

Jane rose, walked to me, and held me. And in that moment all the pain and awkwardness that we'd felt was gone.

The End Up remains a San Francisco insitution. One of the bartenders, Debbie, has been working there since the mid-80s. And this past Labor Day weekend, I spent quite a few more hours there than I'm willing to admit in public, hee hee hee.

Next year will mark the 20th anniverary of my coming out, and I think I'll be making a late night trip to the Stanford campus... for a run.

And Jane, wherever you are, thank you. That hug, your love, and your friendship has made such a difference in my life.

(After 9/11, I wrote a short essay that also touched on my early experiences as a gay man. You can read it here.)