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Life Goes On
A Coming Out Story
By Johnny Trlica, 10/21/2011
October 11 is National Coming Out Day. As editor of a an LGBT on line newspaper I feel obligated to share my personal coming out story. It was originally printed in another paper so if it sounds familiar, it very well may be.
Coming out to one's family is not easy for most gay men and women or boys and girls. It should be a calculated time for consideration of the possible ramifications, thoroughly processed before the decision is made. While Pride Month or National Coming Out Day may inspire one to act, each individual needs to determine and set their own time line.
My mother made it easy for me. Helen Rosenbaum Trlica, aka Mama, understood that I was gay, long before I did; a fact I discovered when I decided to come out to her when I was 19. I lived in a Rosenberg apartment with a female roommate, mistakenly thinking I was fooling people. I had always been uneasy and scared about people finding out my "terrible and shameful secret," not being comfortable with my sexual orientation at this point in my life.
A few months before I had "the talk" with my mother I had my first sexual experience. I was still living with my parents, working at the Sonic Drive In in town and had developed a crush on a co-worker. One cold night in December we decided to get together after our shift ended. We both got into my 1963 Pontiac Bonneville and drove to and parked under the Brazos River bridge where I was to lose my virginity. Without getting into the details, let's just say I got home with visible evidence about what had happened. I had a hickey!
I arrived home quite late and luckily everyone was asleep. I was horrified when I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw the passion mark. Feeling panicked about what the family, and especially my mother, might say, I knew I had to do something. After deliberating for several minutes I went into the kitchen to get a spoon, then walked back into the bathroom and held the metal utensil over the open flame of the gas space heater.
After getting the spoon sufficiently hot, I again looked into the mirror and held the scorching metal to the area of my neck where my boyfriend had branded me. I would tell everyone that I had burned myself at work. "It was a guaranteed plan that could not fail," I thought to myself.
Needless to say I was wrong. I remember the look on my mother's face when I explained to her how grease from the deep fat fryer had splashed and landed right on my neck. I knew immediately she did not believe me but she did not confront me on it. To this day I can see the look of disbelief in her eyes.
Mama was especially protective of me. She knew how I preferred the company of my sisters when I was a child. I liked to play house, dolls, and have tea parties with them. I loved helping her rearrange furniture and growing flowers in the front yard. I didn't like doing the boy things that my brother did, like playing baseball. I was afraid of being laughed because I ran funny (like a girl) down the first base line.
Bullying is not particular to this day and time. I was often laughed at and derided by neighbor kids and even some cousins for my effeminate ways and manners.While playing hide and seek with my siblings and cousins one night when I was 10 or 11, one of my older male cousins took umbrage with the way I talked and began referring to me as "Ooooh woooooman." To this day it angers and hurts me when I think of how berated I felt that night. No one chooses to talk like a sissy.
That was the first time I felt embarrassed about how I sound. My fear of being mocked was rooted at this moment and remains with me to this day. It's a feeling I relate to with my mother, who was born with a cleft palate and frequently had her kids speak on the telephone for her, fearing the other party could not understand her due to her speech impediment. To this day I am conscious of how I sound when answering the phone, often mistaken for a female.
As an adolescent I developed feelings of being "less than" others and grew more introverted. I chose to stay home and take refuge in TV rather than socialize with my siblings and peers and subject myself to further ridicule because of how I walked or talked. Beginning in junior high and continuing throughout high school I was constantly trying to walk "more like a man" to prevent the other boys from mocking my swish as they did others of my sort. Few straight people can understand the pain one endures being called "faggot" while walking through high school hallways.
In an effort to fit in I would shun other effeminate boys and even tried dating girls. Needless to say, that didn't work out so well. Suicide became a viable option.
I'm not really sure why I decided I was ready to come out to Mom. Perhaps it's because I knew deep in my heart that she would not reject me. She always used the phrase "unconditional love" when referring to any of her children and now was the time to test her on that. I had heard horrendous stories about other gays who were totally rejected by their families when they came out. I never fathomed that happening with Mama. I also thought that maybe she already knew and was just waiting on me.
So, finally one day I decided the time had come. I would tell Mama my secret. It was on a hot summer afternoon that we sat at the dining room table and after initial small talk I said, "Mama, I have something I need to talk to you about."
Her response both surprised and relieved me when she replied, "I think I know what it is." And at that, I was out! What liberation. I could tell she was happy I had finally trusted her enough to be completely honest with her about my truest self. She said she'd known since I was a kid that I was different, and assured meit didn't matter to her. She wanted for me the same as all of her kids-that we be happy.
Over the years, Mama and I would have many more discussions about being gay; in fact we never stopped talking about it. She was very interested in it and wanted to understand. She initially felt that someone was to blame for turning me gay, so she blamed Daddy. He was a raging, abusive alcoholic. He would frequently yell at Mamastriking her on occasion. Mama figured this may have triggered something that turned me gay.
In later years we had several discussions about homosexuality being genetically linked. She agreed with me although she battled with this concept due to her religious beliefs. Mama told me she knew sinceI was four or five when she walked in on me just as I was about to cut my penis off with her sewing scissors. She stopped me in the nick of time. Even then I apparently knew I was different and seemingly wanted to be more like the girls.
Hopefully, today's young gay men and women don't suffer the torment and anguish about being themselves and coming out the way their predecessors did. That's a cross we bear. Not all mothers and fathers of today will be as liberal or tolerant of their gay children as my mother was.
There are still teenage GLBT kids walking and living on the streets of Montrose because they made the decision to come out. Whether that was the right decision for them only that person can answer. That's just one reason why even though so much has improved since my coming out era of the mid 1970's, it's still important for each individual to access their own situation.
Besides coming out to family, one must weigh the risks of coming out to friends, employers, church members and a whole host of people we greet and relate to every day.
Recently a campaign titled "It gets better" has been launched. I can attest to that. It will continue to get better generation after generation. In the meantime, gay kids will continue to be called names in school hallways, laughed at because of their speech or the way they walk, and go through what I and many others endured. But, no one should ever feel that they are "less than" others. Hang in there. It really does get better.
My mother passed away a little more than five years ago. For the last few months of her life we lived together. Mama and I enjoyed talking to each other about all kinds of stuff those last few days of her life, especially politics. She continued to love me unconditionally until she took her final breath as I held her hand. One of the last things she ever told me is that she was proud of me and was "so lucky to have had a gay son."
And life goes on.
Pictured below are myself and my mother at two various stages of our lives together.
Flirty at Thirty
By Mark Anthony, 11/3/2011
The One That Got Away…and kept on going
My friend Leo says, "…but love has found you. You're just too caught up in life to see it." Please make note he said, "…caught up in your life…" not myself.
Last weekend I went to a coffee shop and sat statuette with a book reading for a couple of hours. I catch a guy looking at me. We both notice the emblem on my cap matches his t-shirt. We remain silent. He then extends his phone in front of him as if taking a picture. I cover my face. (Was he sending it to someone to get an opinion?) You'd think us having matching emblems was enough to strike a conversation. I should have said something.
My friend Javier was grocery shopping and noticed people circling him…with empty carts. I laugh and say, "They're shopping for love." (Man, why did I stay home to watch my show?) I don't cruise people when I shop. It's simply hard to do when one is out of cat food… and toilet paper. Once, while in the bottled water aisle this guy behind me is looking for an item. I glance to see (why do people do that?) what is in his right hand and notice Chinese eggrolls. He finds what he needs and walks away. Seconds later he peeks around the aisle to get one last look at me. I should have said something.
I will never forget the paramedic who treated me in an ambulance while being transported from my work to the hospital. To keep my mind off the pain he asked about my life.
When we reach the hospital we are assigned a "room" with a curtain. He closes the curtain and asks me questions for his report. After 20 minutes a nurse tells him to hurry. He says he's almost finished, closes the curtain, turns to me and opens up about his life. The details he disclosed took me by surprise. The nurse soon returns and makes him leave. In his absence a friend arrives. Shortly thereafter the paramedic walks toward me and upon seeing my friend, abruptly stops and says in a monotone, "Good luck to ya." He stomps off before I can respond. I guess he thought my friend was my significant other. I should have said something.
I still think about him…
Flirty at Thirty
By Mark Anthony, 11/21/2011
Reincarnation of Love
Reincarnation is the belief that the soul or spirit, when we die returns as a human, an animal or (*gasp) a plant. Some cultures believe if one lives a good life, upon returning will be human again. If they are vile etc., they are destined to return as a lower form of life. (e.g. When I was younger I would to tell my brother he would come back as a roach, sure to be stepped on or poisoned.) In short the life you lived would be mirrored in the next--in one form or another. As much as I like the idea of reincarnation I don't know enough to voice a formal opinion. But I still couldn't help noticing the similarities between reincarnation and its relevance to love. Would our past loves be mirrored in the next? When it comes to love; are we destined to relive the prior one and therefore never evolve?
Last night I dreamed my ex was knocking at my door at 2:30 a.m. intoxicated, not just by alcohol but love as well. "I'm sorry for everything…I'm different now…blah blah blah." I allow him to enter and after repeatedly trying to kiss me I became annoyed and made him leave. I woke up trying to remember the number of times we broke up and got back together in the course of 7 years. I quit counting the times I let myself relive the same incidences, lies and manipulations this person chose to dish out.
So where would reincarnation take me from here? If I continue to allow myself to relive the same co-dependent, psychotic and unnerving relationships time and time again, what form of love would I live in the next life? Would I ever advance to a "higher form of life?"
I think that if we do not resolve the issues of our past loves we will inadvertently carry them to the next one. I know of people who bounce from the same type of relationship to the next. Then there are those of us that stay with the same type of person. Someone once asked me "What is your type?" Well, they seem to be alcoholics, pathological liars and even a couple of drug addicts. Then there was the one that possessed all three. (I know.)
Maybe it is possible to keep love from being reincarnated from one lower form to another. If we change the type of people we choose to date, and resolve our reoccurring issues it is my belief in doing so we will most certainly evolve.
A Christmas Flirty at Thirty
By Mark Anthony, 12/18/2011
CHRISTMAS WITH JUDY AND FRIENDS
Lifetime Cable Network has a wide array of movies to remind us how important it is to be in a relationship during this time of year. The titles range from "A Christmas Proposal," "A Christmas Kiss," "A Christmas Wedding," "His and Hers Christmas" The list goes on. What intrigues me are the networks that seem to find a new (and improved?) way to retell the SAME exact Christmas love story year after year. I choose not to view these. I don't need these Holiday themed show to remind me of that which I lack.
Not all Christmas shows are about the search for or even absence of love. My friend Johnny has been hosting a "Judy Garland Christmas" for as long as I can remember. The only exposure I had to Judy G. until his "First Annual Judy Garland Christmas" was from watching "The Wizard of Oz." I knew nothing of her personally. The show aired centuries ago and I wasn't even alive when it aired. But after viewing the show at the party I was actually surprised at myself for enjoying it as much as I did. Now I take the viewing another direction. I HAVE to admit I usually make fun of the Liza's gay "boyfriend," the stage set, the costumes, the "cracked out" Santa dancers, the (omg) pancake make-up used on the actors and let me not leave out her son's (I forget his name) solo from Broadway's "Oliver!" *We've learned to mute his solo over the years. Ha-ha.
Years ago I was informed Johnny had decided to forgo the celebration and upon my coaxing decided to have it. "You're the only reason he's having the party…" his friend Stephanie tearfully informed me. Thing is, I literally begged him to have it. I'm not a Judy (or Marilyn or Cher or Madonna or GaGa--just to name a few) fan. But I am a fan of Johnny's and my Holiday would NOT be complete without this celebration. Come to think of it I never asked him why he's such a big fan. Sure he can admire her struggles and triumphs but one would swear he KNEW her. Speaking of struggles, I remember the year Johnny imitated Judy herself and took a nasty spill down the stairs and took the pictures on the wall with him. The celebration was complete with blood gushing from his head, Paramedics, an ambulance ride and a shiny red siren. I remind him if this EVERY YEAR.
Last year at the celebration I gazed around and realized the dynamics of the party had changed. The guest list stays somewhat the same but I see some new faces-younger faces. Hmmmm. I'm not sure if they will enjoy the show as much as I, but I'll at least make sure laughter is present. (No matter how annoyed Johnny gets.) I don't know if they'll "get it" when it comes to Judy G. and her clan (as Johnny proudly recites her biography) because last year I got into a talent/sales/marketing debate about Ga-Ga and Beyonce' missing a key dance combination from Liza. But I can assure you that it is the HIGH point of my Holiday season. I've missed ONE of his Judy G.'s Christmas celebrations.
So whether you're single and looking or single-dating-married and miserable be comforted in the thought that you don't necessarily HAVE to be attached to enjoy Christmas. There are other more important things-like your friends and oh yeah; "A Judy G. Christmas Celebration."
Here are a few pictures from this year's "Judy Garland Christmas Party."
Flirty at Thirty
By Mark Anthony 1/11/2012
New Year's Resolution of the Heart
New Year, new beginnings and a resolution to self make the future promising. The most popular ones range from losing weight, paying bills on time, finding (and keeping) a relationship, reaching out to family, saving money and obtaining a new job. But how many of us actually follow through with them? The most common resolution is weight loss. A friend of mine working for a health club disclosed memberships rise substantially during the latter weeks of December (to obtain a great deal no doubt) and the first two weeks of January. She also concluded by mid to late April the number of people utilizing the gym decrease.
Maybe it would be easier to make a resolution to my heart? I would harden my heart. We can harden our muscles why not our hearts? Is not the heart a muscle too? Charlene (being in the medical professional) says although mere 8-12 ounces in size, the heart is one of the most delicate muscles in the body. It shouldn't be hard should it? If I can bulk up my 140 lb. (okay, OKAY my 142) frame and 30 inch waistline, I can SURE as hell bulk up 8-12 oz. of muscle!
I think the secret is to "pull back" and regroup, refocus and allow myself to "see the big picture" as to where my love life is going…or not going. Maybe I've already hardened my heart. Maybe this single life of mine has taken on a life of its' own. (YIKES!) Has the dormancy of my heart shielded me from recognizing someone's interest? Is THAT what propelled me to author "The One That Got Away…"?
I'm so used to being single I don't KNOW anything else. Perhaps that is why I get nervous when people try to "talk to me." Maybe it's the same for people who are in relationships. We all know people who just…CANNOT BE SINGLE. They jump from person to person, bed to bed and resident to resident (with each relationship). I don't judge though. (THIS coming from a person whose book collection includes "Co-dependent No More." Um, I have yet to read it. Promise.)
My "pretty boy" friend Freddie says, "Just play around…have fun!" Sure, it's easy for HIM to say. I'm not like that. I have not had sex of any kind for over a year and prior to THAT; six months. It was then when Charlene suggested I adhere to STD testing-all of them. So I did. I'm clean. Anyone can phone, email, IM or text for rendezvous. I choose not to.
Besides, I'm WAY too busy regrouping, refocusing and "pulling back" to think of anything else. Not to mention following through with the resolution I've made to my heart.
Life Goes On
By Johnny Trlica, 2/11/2012
My Life with Jack
I lost my partner of 25 years on January 27. No, he wasn't my partner in the sense you may be thinking. He was something more than that--a best friend-the kind that only comes once in a lifetime. The kind that is family. I always called him Jack but others knew him as Jackson or Junior.
Jack and I met back in the day when Heaven (currently South Beach) had 10 cent drink night on Wednesdays. He was standing in the corner between the center bar and the restroom doors. Looking very approachable, even though he was the cutest guy in the room, I walked up to him and said "Hi." The rest, so to speak is history.
We became so close that for the next 25 years people often mistook us for partners and were quite often surprised when we told them we weren't. I talked about him so much that my mother thought we were together and wanted to meet him. She did eventually. Bonnie Raitt's song "Let's Give 'em Something to Talk About" became our anthem for a while. Corny as it may sound, we really could complete each other's sentences.
Shortly after meeting Jack he helped me move from Rosenberg into the big city where he took delight in showing me the sights and sounds of his hometown. He introduced me to the Westheimer Art Festival (later Street Festival), the Freedom Fest, and cemeteries. He loved wondering around the old cemeteries in town.
Jack was not a fan of country music, and Tanya Tucker in particular but he went with me to see her do a free show at Miller Outdoor Theatre in the early '90's. He even brought his camera and took pictures for me. He walked away a fan. I manage to persuade Jack to go with me to see Cher's Farewell Tour at the Compaq Center. Which Farewell Tour it was I cannot recall. Of course Jack enjoyed the opening act, Cyndi Lauper, better. He said she didn't need all of the special effects to entertain the audience. As much as he hated football, he even went to a rice football game with me. And as much as he resisted, he laid down in that field of bluebonnets near Brenham and had let me take his picture.
Going out on Sunday nights became a ritual for us. After watching "Life Goes On" he'd begin getting ready. It would take Jack hours and hours to prepare for a night out. I always wondered what took him so long in the shower and he never left the house without pressed blue jeans. I think I saw him in shorts only once and it wasn't at the beach-he wore jeans there too. Jack didn't get out on the dance floor often but one could almost always find him there when "It's My Life" by Talk Talk would play. It was not uncommon for club goers in the 90's to see him, Jackie and myself all out there together.
He was there to support me when my younger sister was diagnosed with cancer and died at the age of 34 in 1993. Once while my sister was at UTMB in Galveston, Jack rode with me to see her along with the rest of the family. While waiting in the hallway of the hospital my father approached Jack to inspect all of his keys he had dangling from his belt. Jack affectionately refers to this as the time my father grabbed his crotch. He was there as I dealt with my father's passing in 2003.
Jack and I were living together in 2005, as we did for about 20 of the 25 years we knew each other, when my mother became very ill. I decided to move back to Rosenberg to take care of her and he completely understood, even though it meant he'd have to find a new roommate. He simply said you have to do what you have to do. I could not have survived without his support when my mother passed away in 2006.
My leaving eventually led to Jack taking in his own parent at his life's end. We often joked that I got the better end of the deal as I only had to do it for about four months and his situation ended up being a five year ordeal. But, he wouldn't have had it any other way. Jack was one of the kindest and most giving people one could wish for.
Now don't get me wrong. Jack was no angel. He had a mean streak in him but it usually played out in a mischievous form. Once when we were living together at the house on Avondale, I brought a guest home. (Alright, he was a trick). Unbeknownst to me, Jack had placed two raw eggs under the covers on my bed. I didn't notice them until my friend got up to use the restroom. As he left I felt something strange under the sheets. I reached down and found the eggs and remember thinking, "What kinda' freak did I bring home?" Jack never said a word until one day a week or so later when we were having lunch and I mentioned it to him. He almost choked on his enchiladas trying to stifle a laugh.
Jack never liked any of my boyfriends, not that I've had that many. For a while I figured it was because he was jealous but as time progressed and we grew older I realized he was just looking out for me. When I needed a new lock put on my door to keep out a psycho ex, he dropped what he was doing and rushed over to keep me safe.
Jack became distanced from me over the last year. We'd still go out to eat once in awhile. He always loved obscure places like Triple AAA on Airline, Lankford's and Andy's in the heights. And of course we'd still meet for drinks, or as he called them "dranks." I knew he was going through some stuff and allowed him his space.
I've been lost since Jack left us and cannot figure out why. He was a larger part of my life than anyone including my own family. In trying to figure out why I feel such a sense of loss, I came to realize that Jack and I were family. When we met, neither of us was particularly close to our respective families. While processing with my sisters, it seems we were all living our own lives, starting families of our own. While my siblings were getting married and raising children, my family became my friends, with Jack being the cornerstone of an extended family that I and millions of LGBT people develop. To coin a phrase, "We are Family."
Jack was always there for me no matter what he had going in his own tumultuous life. I'm sure one day when I think of him and the fun times we shared I'll smile or even chuckle instead of tear up as I do now. Every time I go bike riding down Buffalo Bayou and downtown I'll remember Jack. The next time I take a trip to San Antonio I'll remember how much fun we had at the Bonham Exchange, Fiesta Texas, and El Mercado. The next time I spend a weekend in Galveston or a flea bag motel I'll think about the weekend excursions Jack and I had there. I told Jack we should have made reservations but he said, "Oh, let's be adventurous and take a chance."
I'm going to miss my friend, my family.
And life goes on.
Pictured: Jack and Johnny at various stages of life over the past 25 or so years...
Flirty at Thirty
By Mark Anthony, 2/22/2012
Baggage Claim(s)
Jerry Springer's not so new gig is a game show where contestants share emotional "baggage." The baggage they carry is enclosed in three suitcases of different sizes. The bigger the baggage the bigger the suitcase it encases. The things disclosed range from fetishes, situations, relationship preferences and weird hobbies. I got hooked faster than you could press your speed dial button for a therapist. When it comes to love, how much "baggage" should we share with a potential mate?
I was at a party and after some shots and way too many beers to count; people congregated in the living room and appeared to hold a relationship forum. (It's surprising what we share with others when intoxicated.) I sat and listened with keen concentration. The "sharing" made its way around each participant. Tears were shed; hugs extended…blah, blah, blah. Then it was my turn. I froze. I could feel sweat form on my temples and I pretend to choke on my cranberry/soda and excused myself. When I got to the bathroom I placed my hands on the sink, lowered my head and wondered how I was going to get myself out of THIS one. (My friend Bess says, "There are some things about you that people just don't need to know.") The two people I knew had left and I was not about to "spill my guts" to a bunch of wannabe therapist. This was my cue to leave.
I really felt for some of these people. Here they were in room full of strangers reaching out for compassion, friendship, love…and another drink. As I walked to my car I thought, "How can people sit and share things about themselves that well, should only be told to a Priest, therapist…or one's best friend." It's amazing how one's inner most secrets can bring people together. But it can and does, in some cases, repel a love interest. I once heard it said, "When you meet someone you need to make it seem that your life could not get any better…" I'm not quite sure to what depth I believe this. Is it possible conversations one holds on a date needs practice? Patty S. (of Millionaire Matchmaker) put it best, "Keep the conversation on neutral subject; no religion, politics or anything about ex(s)." What, not talk of the ex(s)?!
With the advice I've received on this subject I can only conclude-regardless of what we choose to disclose our "real" selves will eventually surface. Everyone has "baggage" it is how you handle it that makes you the person you are and (even more important) the person you are not.
contact Mark at houstonrainbowherald@yahoo.com
