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.
The Closet Was Roomy—But It Didn’t Have Wi-Fi
I spent most of my life pretending to be the man I thought I should be. Married to a woman. Two kids. Gas grill. Dad jokes. Sunday Target runs. I looked like I had it all together—but on the inside, I was suffocating in beige polos and unspoken truths.
The thing is, I wasn’t miserable—I was just numb. Comfortable enough to survive, but never alive.
Until I woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and said, “Bro… you’re gay. And that’s not going away.”
So... I Came Out at 42
Not with a parade or Beyoncé soundtrack (although that came later). It started with one terrifying sentence to my wife:
“I think I’m gay.”
She blinked, exhaled, and said, “I know.”
Cue the emotional tornado. There were tears, hugs, therapy, and an entire bottle of wine (each). But through it all, something amazing happened—we honored the love we had while making space for the truth I’d buried for decades.
She didn’t throw plates. She helped me pick out my first going-out shirt. And that, my friends, is what you call a real one.
Coming Out in Your 40s: Like Puberty… But With a Mortgage and Lower Back Pain
Let me tell you what it’s like to come out in your 40s:
You’re too old for the drama, but just young enough to flirt on apps without it being weird.
You know what you want… mostly.
And you still don’t know what half the gay slang means. (I thought “poppers” were jalapeño snacks. They are NOT.)
Suddenly, you’re in a whole new world—one filled with brunches, gay volleyball leagues, tight jeans, and men who moisturize.
I joined the gym (again), downloaded Grindr (immediately deleted it), and realized I had absolutely no idea how to flirt with men. Do I buy him a drink? Compliment his watch? Offer to spot him while doing squats?
I settled for: “Hi, I’m new. Please don’t hurt me.”
Things I’ve Learned Since Coming Out:
You can be masculine and gay. Being into dudes doesn’t cancel out your love of steak, bourbon, or yelling at the TV during playoff season.
Gay men are way more emotionally available than my straight guy friends ever were. We cry, we hug, we process—and then we go do pushups.
Everyone—and I mean everyone—has a crush on Pedro Pascal. It’s just a fact.
The Freedom Is Real… And So Is the Fear
Coming out wasn’t easy. There were awkward conversations, some friendships that didn’t survive, and a lot of uncomfortable vulnerability. But damn—it felt good to stop editing who I was for everyone else’s comfort.
I finally got to be the guy I used to only let out in my head.
And for the first time in my life, I felt proud of myself, not for what I was pretending to be, but for who I actually am.
So If You’re Reading This…
And you’re in your 30s, 40s, or even 50s, wondering if it’s too late to come out, to live authentically, to start over—I’m here to tell you:
It’s not.
You’re not too old. You’re not broken. You’re not behind. You’re just arriving.
And trust me, this version of you—the unfiltered, unashamed, fully alive you? He’s worth the wait.
Just be ready for your first Pride to feel like gay Disneyland… but with less clothing and more glitter.
Coming out in your 40s isn’t the end of something—it’s the beginning of everything.
And if anyone asks why I suddenly started caring about my skincare and doing yoga, I just tell them the truth:
“Because I’m finally living, babe. And I want to look hot while I do it.”
