What Do You Do When Your LGBTQ Friend is Transphobic/Homophobic?

I Was a Homophobe: How I Was a Bitch to My Boyfriend

I’m not proud of this. I have no good excuse. I understand how I was and why I was, but, still, I should have been better.

My freshman year in college, I met an engaging enigmatic young man. Curly hair, devilish eyes, and sharp wit, when he took an interest in me, he was irresistible. He saw something in me that I had never seen in myself. He didn’t quite see the truth, but he saw deeper than anyone else, and that was the ruin of our relationship in the end.

He was kind. He was steadfast. He was patient. He was a keeper.

I was young, inexperienced, naive, and, worst of all, homophobic. I didn’t think I was. But my experience in the LGBTQ world was limited to a few exposures in high school that were not positively supported, and too many ingrained media and redneck responses to all things gay. Adding to that, I was constantly accused or suspected of being gay, a faggot, or queer since 6th grade.

I had learned that being gay 🟰bad! I didn’t want to be bad.

Besides, while I had wondered if I found men attractive, their behaviors and ridiculous competitiveness and crassness turned me off. I concluded that I was not attracted to men, not realizing that there could be exceptions.

Rick and I quickly became best friends. We met for meals in the dining hall, hung out together, wandered campus during our free time, and made plans for adventures together during the holidays. I had no clue that he felt differently about me. That he wanted me to be more than just a buddy. I was naive and blind. When he gave me a back massage and I returned the favor, I thought nothing of it. At last I had my first close friend.

This continued until he took me to a GALA party on campus. I had no idea what GALA was or what the acronym meant. I had to have it explained to me after we were there. Gay and Lesbian Alliance (GALA). I was surprised, but rolled with it. But I insisted to Rick that I wasn’t gay because I liked girls. He told me I was lucky and we continued to grow closer.

The year was magical.

We gave each other thoughtful birthday presents (his were better as I was still a pretty insensitive prick, but I did try). We celebrated the Christmas holidays, and he drove me to my home before returning to his home. I was clueless that he had driven 8 hours of his way to be with me. We went to parties, we hugged. Together we endured being yelled at as a couple of faggots.

We didn’t have sex. I am pretty sure he wanted to, but he was patient and knew I wasn’t ready. Unfortunately, things blew up when I visited his home and his parents.

First, I had become a hopeless cigarette addict, and smoking was verboten in his house. I tried to cleverly smoke out the window, but I was quickly busted. Then, on an overnight sailing trip with his family, I had an erotic (not a wet) dream as we slept in bunks next to each other. We canoodled while I was asleep. He was delighted, and I was… confused.

That was the end, but not when it ended. I became a homophobic bitch. I really think I was one before, but now my lizard brain was in full protective control. I sabotaged our relationship in so many ways. I could describe each event in detail, they are emblazoned in my memory, but it’s all too embarrassingly painful. I don’t know how much he recalls, since he was blameless.

But I recall each time I chose to be a selfish prick and treat him like dirt. I wanted out, but I was too much of a coward, or at least not self-aware enough, to end it directly.

When finally I broke a promise and rushed a Fraternity that we hadn’t agreed on, that was the final straw for him. He never spoke to me as a friend again, let alone as a potential lover.

The thing is that I didn’t understand my core identity. I was bisexual in inclination, but heterosexual in training. But deeper than that, I was a transgender woman in denial. There was just too much to unpack, at least then. I couldn’t be what he wanted, what he needed. But I couldn’t tell him, because I still didn’t know what I was.

Rick did everything right. He was a gentlemen. He was a man of his word. He was kind, observant, and knew me better than I knew myself. He was patient and did not push me outside of my comfort zone. But still, I ended up freaking out and being a bitch.

I have told him I am sorry. I have reached out to him. He has nothing to say to me, and I don’t blame him. Decades have passed by. What we might have had then is at best a distant memory, perhaps a fiction.

I don’t think there will ever be another chance to repair the damage between us. Besides, I am a transgender woman and not the gay man he was seeking. But I do hope that he found someone. I pray that he is happy. He was one of the best influences in my college years and he deserves nothing but happiness.

He showed me how to deal with a transphobic or homophobic friend in the LGBTQ community. Unfortunately, I was the friend and it still didn’t work out. That’s the thing. You can do everything right, but it still might not work out. So you have to decide, if it is worth the possible pain of the end result being separation. If not, just go away. If it is, thank you! You may not succeed today, but your are planting seeds for future growth. It is not a wasted effort.

Thank you Rick! 💞

This story is a response to the Prism & Pen writing prompt, What Do You Do When Your LGBTQ Friend is Transphobic/Homophobic?