Psssst!

Psssst!

I finally did it. Confessed. Part of coming out of the closet... one teeny weeny foot out. Told my straight and male flatmate, with whom I've lived with for the past eight months, and known for the past two-years-two months, that I'm... bated breath... gay.

I'm overjoyed at his response.

"And I don't care!"

In a split second.

With a smile.

I love the guy! ;-)

Actually, I have quite a crush on him. Have had one, for the past six months! I think it's because of the proximity. But then - now, it's gone to a completely higher level! I am simply HAPPY that he responded like that! I expected no less, true - but I was... fearful. Closet freaks always are.

There were hints, of course.

He once asked me if I were going to Pegs and Pints, when we were in Delhi - it's a gay bar. At the time, I pretended not to know what he meant.

He's read Allan Hollinghurst from me.

He's told me, he thinks my shades are much too gay.

He thinks the way I hitch my walkman onto my jeans screams out GAY a 1000 decibels loud.

But he doesn't care. For any of that. He's still cool with me. So, I'm happy.