I’m Pregnant with my Husband’s Boyfriend’s Baby

I grew up during the times of Pound Puppies, Micro Machines, Breakfast Clubs, Blockbuster, John Waters, Queen Latifah, Maury Povich, Ricki Lake, and a viral pandemic I was too young to understand.

My sister really liked trashy day time talk shows. I would tell her that I hated them, but I didn’t care what we watched. I got to hang out with my sister.

I don’t remember which talk show or what the exact topic was. I remember hearing a lot of “you are not the father” around that time, but I do remember that the host of the show was talking with a woman who wanted to confront her boyfriend whom she suspected of cheating. The show had hired a private investigator and they were ready to reveal the truth in front of a live studio audience.

The woman had been correct, her boyfriend was cheating. What she didn’t expect was that it was with a man.

“He’s gay,” the audience would gasp.

The woman would be in tears, collapsed to her knees on the set, pulling at her dripping eye shadow, and screaming, “WHY?!”

“I’m gay,” he hung his head with tears in his eyes.

“Boo,” the audience cried at the villain.

“Let’s bring out the boyfriend!”

“Ugh, that’s absolutely disgusting,” my mother said as she passed through the room and stopped to see what we were watching.

“What is?” I had asked.

“Being gay,” my mom replied.

“What’s gay?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, you aren’t,” she said.

Some lessons are hard. Some lessons hurt.

This memory stuck with me. What was a gay? My mom knows I’m not one, but how do I know if I’m not? How do you become one? What if I become one? I don’t want my mom to think I’m disgusting. Is it something like boogers?

Fast forward to my pre-teens and I started to notice the dads of the neighborhood’s chest hair poking out the top of their button up shirts as they adjusted their ties. I liked looking at men who had very veiny hands. I loved the musky smell of the men’s locker room at the local swimming pool.

(Mom, if you read this, go ahead and skip the next sentence.)

I started daydreaming about cock.

But thank goodness I wasn’t gay. My mom told me I wasn’t.

You should’ve seen my face when I came to some sharp and colliding realities. I was at a weeklong scouting trip when I realized I was gay.

“Am I disgusting?” I asked myself.

I told myself if I tried harder, if I followed a faith, fake it, meet it halfway, and no matter what I told myself I just kept being unhappy.

It was so much pressure on myself.

At that time there weren’t a lot of positive role models available and, if there were, they were not available to me.

That’s what I want to relay: not all representations available will be positive. My first memory of a gay person on TV was someone deeply villainized and it would be years later before Ellen DeGeneres came out and Will & Grace became popular.

It caused me to have some struggle and it delayed my coming out to the most important person I needed to come out to: I had to come out to myself.

I wanted to be happy. I knew what made me happy. It was a matter of letting myself be happy. If I could do this then I knew that I would be okay.

I look at the role models available out there now: Neil Patrick Harris, David Archuleta, Kim Petras, Cecil Baldwin, Ryan La Sala, and the list goes on. Encouraging people to life the live they are capable of.

I spent time listening to other people’s stories, I made mistakes, and I learned new lessons. You’ll hear a lot of stories about being your true self, you’ll get a lot of advice about always being open and honest, you’ll hear stories that will shock and appall you.

Listen to the stories.

Respect the stories.

Create your own life.

I wouldn’t change that moment from my past. It was rough, but it was part of my journey in self-discovery.

My mom didn’t hold back her thoughts at the time and that’s okay; she and I worked out a healthy and loving relationship. It’s bizarre to look back and think how much history has changed since that time.

The unsaid advice I wish I could go back and tell myself,

“You don’t have to come out.

At least, not on anyone else’s timeline. Let yourself figure it out at your own pace. Bring someone you are interested in to a family event or a work party. You don’t owe anyone else your thoughts or feelings. You get to have more than one family and you can make as many friends as you’d like. Find your place. Make your own rules. Don’t let anyone pressure you. Especially yourself! There is a place for you, don’t give up, you can find it if you are honest with yourself first.”

It’s your turn to make your own stories.