When my boss asked me to tell my coming out story, I immediately said to myself, “Oh heavens to Betsy, why on Earth would anyone want to read that?”

I don’t mean to be rude. I am honored to submit this column, but you don’t need to hear about my trials and tribulations of coming out as an adolescent Portchop growing up in suburban New England. It’s dull, and there’s only so many times I can write clichés like, “I finally found me.”

I felt that when I came out, I felt that it gave people the agency to assume all these different things about me. Don’t get me wrong, I fall into my fair share of stereotyping from time to time, but some assumptions were like the red, scratchy onesie my Grandmother bought me when I was three: painful and unnecessary.

Here are some of my all-time favorite and baffling assumptions people have made when I came out of the closet: You must know your fashion and you must know your interior design: I’m sorry. I like to wear sweatpants that I bought over a decade ago. I still don’t know the difference between “farmhouse” and “craftsman.” I also don’t know how many of these couples on HGTV have $500,000+ budgets and have professions in Beekeeping and Teaching, but that is rant better saved for another article.

You must love Queer Eye, I watch it all the time: I’m sure it’s a wonderful show, but no, I have never watched a single episode of Queer Eye. I’d rather watch that new show on Netflix about hot, gay, male strippers that fight crime and solve murders (No joke, this is a thing. We can binge it together).

You must be a Bottom: I’m sorry, but unless you’re my partner, Michael Fassbender or Patrick Wilson, you do not need to know anything about my sexual preferences, but I appreciate your imagination.

You must really love Gaga or Britney, or Ariana, huh: Sure, sure, and sure, but you know who’s my absolute fav? Marilyn Manson. Mic. Dropped.

You remind me of Jack Black: This is not an assumption. This is actually kind of accurate. But like, a hot Jack Black.

The list goes on and on, but I didn’t write this article to complain or to say, “woe is me.” I am writing this piece that being gay doesn’t simply just makes sense when you come out. It’s not Cady Herring finally acknowledging, “The Limit does not exist.”

Coming out is a process. It’s a process that I am constantly learning about daily. I think about who I was ten years ago and who I am today, and there are just moments, where I’m like, holy shit, was that really my hair???

But, in all honesty, I had to grow. I had to have these awkward conversations. I experienced healthy and toxic relationships with men, friends, and family. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.

Instead of making assumptions, I encourage readers to ask these questions when someone is going through the process of coming out:
1. How are you today? Coming out of the closet is absolutely nerve-wracking. I wished I had more people asking me if I was alright.
2. How do I support you and your story? I felt on many occasions that many people were trying to come out of the closet for me, and I wish I was more empowered to come out on my own.
3. I still love you, no matter what. This should not be a question. This should be a fact.

The experiences are worth it. Trust me. So how did I answer my boss when she asked me would I write about my coming out story? I told her I would think about it.