The First Betrayal

If this blog were a piece of fiction, this would be an example of a perfect literary style: The main character would have finally built up the courage to take action against his fear. He would even succeed. The pages would describe his celebration and breaking free from all that held him back. Then, just as everything seemed to be perfect, the author would throw a a figurative wrench into his engine and destroy all that was built. All that was created would come undone.

The great part about this and the previous entry, is that they need not be made up. It was an ironic, literary-life come true through me.

Fat-Fucking-Bitch is the appropriate name I have given to the person who decided to out me to every other person I had met in CEGEP. As coincidences work in this world of ours, I had become good friends with Fiona at the same time as Fat-Fucking-Bitch (FFB). FFB and I knew each other. I considered her to be a pretty cool person. A bit of a drama queen, but really friendly and fun. She was actually one of the key players that would create "the greater group" of friends that we both came to be part of.

Encouraged by Fiona, I came out to FFB one week after I had told Fiona I was gay. I was riding a bit of a high. I began to think everything was going my way, so why would this go differently? Her reaction was that she had known I was gay all along and that there was nothing wrong with that. We had a quick little chat about myself and I explained to her that she had to keep this secret because I wasn't comfortable with myself just yet and that I didn't want other people to find out, especially our group of mutual friends. She understood and said she wouldn't talk about it with anyone other than Fiona. Everything seemed good.

At home that day, I felt great about myself. I was sure how to describe it but it was as if a long burden was slightly lightened. In my eyes, FFB was becoming a close friend and I was understanding that my friends could appreciate me for myself.

Come one week later, every person I had become friends with knew I was gay.
Did I play any part in telling them? Not at all.
How did I feel about that? I was absolutely terrified.
I didn't want everyone to know I was gay. I didn't want them thinking differently of me or acting as if I wasn't the same person. I wanted to be Thomas and not just the Gay Guy. With them knowing my most private secret, I felt exposed and vulnerable to them. What happens if some of them wanted to act out against me? I was freaked out and my mind wouldn't stop racing through realistic or outlandishly terrible scenarios.

How did they react when I walked into our usual hangout, at CEGEP? Well, I wasn't the Gay Guy but I wasn't Thomas either. I was something else. Eyes looked to the sides. Conversations stopped as I came into view.Nothing was the same and it wouldn't be for the next few months. I wouldn't see them as much. I would became miserable. My depression got a lot worse during that time. When I did hang out with anyone from the group, no one would mention I was gay, including myself. The talks I had with Fiona would be exceptions to this rule.

How did I find out FFB outed me to everyone? Fiona would run up to me in a panic to tell me that FFB had told them all. Later, I would also go up to FFB and she would freely admit it, as if nothing was wrong.

I have few positive memories of FFB. As I would slowly become comfortable with my greater group of friends (although my comfort with being gay would still lag behind), we would all acknowledge FFB as more of a whinny, attention-seeking bitch. People would push her away. Into the second year of CEGEP, she would start cutting herself and would twice need an ambulance to save her life from alcohol poisoning.

Would I feel bad for her? Never. She would try to become friends with me again, but at my best I would tolerate her and use her for what she would offer for free.

Do I seem angry and bitter about this? Well ya.
Am I still angry at her today? Nope, I don't really care about her at all.

Like I said at the beginning of this post, the recounting of The First Person I Told and My First Betrayal is like a classic book genre. Fiona was a perfect complement to my personality and FFB was the perfect antithesis to Fiona and my character; Fat-Fucking-Bitch was exactly what my closeted, protective self was scared of. That is something I just don't forget or forgive.

Here's another tip, for you all, about the perfect story: the novels that win all the awards and are praised by the highest critics in the literary field just don't end happily.