Born This Way (5 page)

Believe it or not, I remember the moment captured in my photo. It was when I saw
him
, a dreamy teenage friend of our family.
I didn't feel gay or different at this moment, just in love.
And I'm so glad I'm dressed quite handsomely in my tie, plaid vest, and penny loafers. I suppose it was around age five that I sensed I was different, as I heard my parents arguing about the clothes and toys my mother was buying me. Not to mention my constant desire to fly like Mary Poppins or the Flying Nun, which drove my father nuts.
The ability to fly away, if even just in my imagination, helped me get through it all.

I was a smart, eccentric kid who was prone to dramatic moments. The best thing my parents did for me was getting me involved in a local community theater program to channel my creative energy.
Growing up, I couldn't understand why I didn't like football, dating, or other things Texan
. It was not until I went off to college that my first “girlfriend” suspected what was going on, labeled me as gay, and got me on the path to self-discovery.

The earliest memory I have of understanding that I liked boys was staring at the
Meet The Beatles!
album cover with my sister and knowing I too thought Paul McCartney was the cute one.
My first boy crushes happened at summer camp,
over some of the older boys or a camp counselor or two. Then a few neighborhood friends and some cute jocks at school and fellow actors in the community theater and … oh, well, I guess I had a lot of crushes.

My only distinct memory of being bullied is when a male friend of my sister's wrote FAG on a piece of sheet music in my room. I remember
my father taped a similarly colored piece of paper on top to cover up the hateful word.
And I remember I felt worse for my father than I did for myself.

I was always out to everyone but my parents. I am embarrassed by how long I kept the additional “roommate decoy” bed in the living room for when my parents visited me. Much to my mother's credit, when I told her of another friend who'd died of AIDS, she asked me if Scott and I were
“more than roommates.”
I've been with my partner, Scott, for thirty-three years now. Although we do not have children, we share a song-writing career that has given birth to many proud accomplishments. I have never had a day in my life when I didn't feel it was a blessing being born gay.

I've seen home movies of me as a small boy, fearlessly singing and dancing for the family.
My parents thought I had enough charisma to be on television, so they took me to Hollywood
to get some headshots done. All I can remember is that I was breathless traveling to Tinseltown. I was sure that we would run into Ginger from
Gilligan's Island
. We didn't see Ginger, but I did meet Grandpa Munster (aka Al Lewis) at Universal Studios. I cried for hours because he was green and old and kissed me on the cheek. Putting that tragedy behind me,
I continued to perform and got my big break at an audition
for Ron Moody's production of
Oliver
. Walking into the Ahmanson Theater in downtown Los Angeles and seeing all the other little boys who loved to sing and dance, I thought I was in heaven.

I knew by no later than age four that I had a secret. By age ten, I had full knowledge that I was what everyone else seemed to hate. I tried to pass for straight until college, where I found others like myself. The stress created by years of hiding was replaced by a deep spiritual sigh of relief when I came out in 1981.
My family's reaction was akin to, “Yeah, we know. Now pass the butter and get your elbows off the table.”