He looked straight into my eyes with a penetrating, all-knowing look and asserted convincingly, “I can tell if someone is gay.”

It was October 1983. I was 18–years old and in my second week of college. My new friends, Dave and Vince, invited me to have pizza with them just thirty minutes earlier. I jumped at the chance to get to know these two guys – both of whom I had met a week before when I was asked to perform in another friend’s senior music recital of opera scenes. Dave was the conductor, Vince was the lead tenor, and I played the baritone role in a scene from Mozart’s opera Cosi fan tutte (which, ironically, is a romantic comedy that explores deception and betrayal).

We had just finished our second rehearsal when the three of us headed for pizza around 7 pm. During the 20–minute drive to the best pizza place in the area, Vince and Dave started talking about the Wizard of Oz. I love the Wizard of Oz, but I had trouble comprehending their conversation. For example, I remember Dave asking Vince, “Are you a friend of Dorothy?” and Vince replying, “Of course.”

What’s a friend of Dorothy? I silently pondered. Not wanting to appear stupid or not “with it,” I set aside my curiosity and discomfort, and joined in their laughter.

When we arrived at the pizza place and got settled into a booth, Dave asked, “Paul, do you know what we were talking about in the car?”

With that question, it was clear that my attempt to be “one of the boys” didn’t work. Yep. I had been caught, so I admitted, “Well, to be honest, I knew you were talking about the Wizard of Oz and stuff, but I didn’t really understand what you guys were really talking about.”

The waitress interrupted our conversation to take our order. I welcomed the distraction because I was unsure where this conversation was heading.

As soon as the waitress walked away, Dave continued with a brief, but shocking explanation, “Vince and I are gay.” I was mystified. How did we go from The Wizard of Oz to gay?

“The conversation we had in the car,” Dave continued, “was our way of coming out to each other. Saying ‘I’m a friend of Dorothy’ is a way of saying ‘I’m gay.’”

Vince chimed in, “We didn’t mean to leave you out of anything, but on the drive over here Dave and I realized that each of us is gay. We got caught up in coming out to each other.”

There I sat, for the first time in my life, in front of two gay men, gaining a new perspective on the Wizard of Oz. My emotions were like the twister that transported Dorothy from Kansas to Munchkinland. There was a surprising calmness in the center of my emotional storm that was punctuated by the emotional debris swirling around me, cluttered with years of repression, secrecy, and hiding.

I was honored that they trusted me with this information and, more importantly, I had this sudden sense of belonging, which literally scared the hell out of me. This was actually a big moment in my life. The truth was that I was terrified to sit there, but I stayed anyways. God, I thought, what if they think I’m gay?

Vince thanked me for not getting up and scurrying to another table. I acknowledged his appreciation by saying, “I wouldn’t run away like that. I’m pretty open-minded.”

Then came the turning point in the conversation. Dave leaned into the table, looked me squarely in the eyes, and said definitively, “I can tell if someone is gay.”

“Aahhhhh!” I screamed silently. Now I really wanted to run away. But instead, without any hesitation, I muscled my way into the land of courage and blurted out a resounding, “Oh.” That’s it. That’s all I said. Just “Oh.” I did not care to know what he thought of me and I ensured that we did not go down that path.

I looked back into Dave’s eyes, doing my best not to reveal any secrets. Dave continued to stare at me, knowingly, for what felt like an eternity. Neither of us said anything while Vince sat on the sideline observing the whole thing.

Thankfully, the pizza arrived. Dave sat back in his chair, relaxing his intense focus on me. In between pizza bites, I asked my two new “friends of Dorothy” about their lives and what it’s like to be gay. We talked for a while longer and then drove back to campus where we parted company until our next rehearsal.

Reflecting on that night, I stood at the threshold of something huge, scary, and inevitable. For the first time, I realized that I would need to face my own betrayal and deception. That night marked the beginning of a new life for me. It was time for me to come out. [To be continued…]

You don’t have to be gay to relate to “coming out” or feeling threatened by others who might suspect your secret. Consider posting in the Comments here or in your private journal, your answers to the following questions:

· When was a time that you betrayed your own integrity by engaging in deception? What happened? What would you do differently now?

· How do you betray your integrity now? What does it get you? What does it cost you?

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