This is a fictional story based on the experiences of several clients over the years, with the hope of empowering those who have not yet come out.
Let’s start with this: I was 42, married, living in the suburbs, mowing my lawn every Saturday, and somehow still pretending I was into fantasy football when in reality, the only fantasy I had was about the guy who delivered our Amazon packages. In shorts. In July.
And that’s when I knew. Or rather, that’s when I finally stopped lying to myself.