Coming Out to Harold

Paul : Shit. Is that Harold?
My ISO : Sounds like him. Can't he just get lost for five minutes?
Paul : Just get your buttons done properly.
My ISO : And comb your hair.

That was roughly about fifteen years ago. And that was our old friend Honest Harold coming to knock on the door of my then-boyfriend and I.

With a name like Honest Harold, you can imagine how my ISO and I tried our best to keep our budding relationship hidden from his view. Back then, butter wouldn't even melt in Harold's sweet mouth. However secrets would spill easily so we tried our best to remain closeted when he was around. Granted a bit hard to do in our randy hormone-fueled youth where every shadowy corridor and darkened doorway seemed like the perfect opportunity for a quick furtive grope.

Not that I ever harboured a crush on him - God forbid - but Harold had shades of a little something that I later recognized in Charming Calvin. Quiet, reserved demeanour with a deeply conservative streak a mile long. So yeah, I never would have come out to him way back then.


Love-making or rough-housing?
Of course things are vastly different now.

Ever since he unexpectedly popped up on my computer screen two nights ago ( after a decade of disappearance! ). Our first conversation after fifteen years apart went something like this.

Harold : Moved over to the island with my wife and kids. Running a little farm now. How about you? Married?
Paul : Don't know if I've told you but I'm gay.
Harold : No shit. Really?
Paul : Really.
Harold : Are you pulling a prank on me again?
Paul : Gay as a three dollar bill. Fuck men, feather boa and all that.
Harold : Guess you won't be a fan of the feathered ducks on my farm then.
Paul : Not unless they come with cocks.
Harold : Huh.

Guess that's one way of coming out.