Michael From the time I was twelve until I was twenty-one, I hid from myself and everyone I knew the feelings that kept me up at night. My attraction to men scared me, but I knew that I didn’t belong with women romantically. Finally, one day at the beginning of my junior year of college, I began talking to a friend of mine who identified as bisexual. I asked him about his coming out process. He told me that he knew another guy in my situation at school, a guy who grew up in a similar Jewish household as I did who was also questioning his sexuality. My friend set Hank and I up, and we began dating in secret. We would hook up at our mutual friend’s place so no one we lived with would know that we were seeing each other. It was so nice to finally feel comfortable, not just with someone else but with myself. One day about a month into our relationship, after doing poorly on a paper that I had spent so much time on, I let myself get into a horribly bad mood. Instead of being supportive to me and taking care of me the way a boyfriend should, Hank yelled at me about being too preoccupied. He said that I was spending too much time being depressed and that he didn’t want to bother himself with someone who couldn’t be loved. He hit me, saying that I was spending more time on my school work than with him. I told him that he was being a jerk, and he told me that I should watch what I said to him or else he would tell everyone at our school that I was gay. I was so scared at how people at school might react. I didn’t know what to do, so I stayed with him. Hank would call me all the time on my cell phone, where he was programmed in as “Mother” so no one would know about us. He would constantly want to know where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing. It made sense when people asked who was on the phone, since Jewish mothers can often be perceived as being overbearing. However, Hank’s surveillance over me became ridiculous when I had eighty-seven missed calls from him while I was in an hour-and-a-half lecture. I told him to stop calling me so frequently, and he said to me, “I just can’t have you cheating on me. Although I don’t know who would ever want to be with you. You’re lucky you found me.” I was afraid that I would be rejected socially from the community that I had been in for so long, but I also knew that I deserved to be treated better than Hank was treating me. I decided that it was better for my emotional well-being to leave Hank, and I finally allowed myself to come out to my friends, making sure Hank didn’t get to them first. The feeling of empowerment that I got when coming out to my friends enabled me to have the confidence it took to break up with Hank. It feels good to finally know who I am.