I’m Ready To Finally Start Being My (Not-Straight) Self


I’ve been working on my comedy material for a while and I thought I’d share a few jokes I’ve been workshopping.

1. I’m 21 now. I’m at that weird age where I know I’m an adult, but I still feel like a kid. I tweet Spongebob memes, but Google bunion surgery… That I’ll probably have my mom call and schedule for me.

2. You can now buy Ann Coulter’s newest book on Amazon. You won’t, of course, but you could.

3. Up until I was in 10th grade, I thought I was straight. (That’s it. That’s the joke.)

Oh, wait. No, the joke is that I continued to date guys. I gushed over Chris Hemsworth like a real *pro*. I acted so straight that I even convinced myself for more than 16 years that I was. Honestly, I deserve an Emmy for my hard work and dedication to the role. Unfortunately, starring in “Kristina’s Closet” comes with no accolades. No recognition, and no support.

And after 21 seasons, I’m ready to move onto a new project: being myself. For a while I thought I could just stay in the closet my entire life. I mean, I knew I had already proven that my acting abilities to be on par with Meryl Streep’s ­ how much more difficult could 70 plus years be? But after a while, I remembered how much I stuff in there ­ literally and figuratively.

Staying buried deep under that mess felt like suffocating, and I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I finally came out to my mom ­ gasping and sobbing for air. Y’know, because I was hysterically crying the entire time. I’m still not even 100% sure my mom knows exactly what I said because I was nearly unintelligible and we never really talked about it after. Still counts, though. I felt a little better already. (And I know she supports me no matter what.)

The next person I told was my best friend. Full disclosure: I was mildly intoxicated at the time. Not “sleep with a man” drunk, but “struggled to order two large pizzas over the phone” drunk. With the help of some liquid courage, I picked up the phone and called her. I knew what I was doing, and the panic I felt in my chest sobered me up a little bit. I was a jumble of buzzed nervous energy, but my anxiety lifted once I heard my best friend laugh and say, “Honestly, do you think this changes anything?”

She was beyond cool with it, just like my mother was. I figured she would be, but it was a huge relief to know for sure. At that point, I was feeling pretty good. I was batting .500 and I felt like I could pull a ton of girls if I wanted to. Basically, I was the A­Rod of the coming out game. This feeling lasted about four months before I decided to try my hand at telling another one of my friends.

At first, I thought this friend was the kind of girl who couldn’t hurt a fly. Until I remembered that flies can’t hear backstabbing gossip and verbal abuse. This friend acted like she was cool with it, until I heard that she was spreading rumors and telling other people without my permission. Since then, I’ve heard every version of “You don’t look gay” in the book. I was hurt and embarrassed. I still felt like A­Rod, but the disgraced and embarrassed version. Eventually, I recovered from the heartbreak.

A few years down the line, I told my dad and a few other family members I was fairly certain wouldn’t make me feel uncomfortable or unsafe. I haven’t really come out to anyone since then ­ not until now. I’ve been inspired by so many strong members of the LGBT community who have shared their stories, and I feel like it’s my time.

Time to quit wasting my breath on Chris Hemsworth’s abs and focus on Kate McKinnon’s adorable dimples. (I mean, come on, have you SEEN those things?!) I’ve learned enough to joke and laugh at myself to be comfortable with who I am ­ regardless of who likes me or not. Even if that means striking out every once in a while. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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