5. Wanting so desperately to be a teenager, and feeling so cool on your thirteenth birthday.

6. Kissing someone for the first time and how amazing it felt, even if it was, in fact, terrible. Trembling hands, thrashing tongues, bumping noses. The awkwardness was all worth it to know that you were wanted, that you had been chosen, that you had experienced a milestone other people hadn’t.

7. Feeling like there is no way you could possibly ever die.

8. Sleepovers with your friends in middle school and talking about “deep” things as the sun rose.

9. Every day seemed to last forever, which was annoying at the time, but now you miss it. Now you want it all to just slow down a little bit.

Dear Dirk,*

The thought of you has filled me with hate almost every day since we first met — but for different reasons altogether than you might expect.

I still remember the terror I felt every time I approached the soccer field. It was in junior high, a difficult time for almost everyone, but especially for me.

You see, I’d always known I was gay. Even in kindergarten, just looking at Jeff Hayward’s smile would make me happy, and I knew intrinsically that it was all right to feel this way — to love other boys — as everything about it felt completely natural and unforced.

In junior high, however, I was placed on the same soccer team as you, and everything changed

You’re missing something. You’re watching everything pass you by and it’s making you anxious but you’re not quite sure how to catch up. A small part of you doesn’t even want to catch up. You’ve become comfortable in your complacency, comfortable in your own mistakes. Your slip ups have become some kind of solace. They’re yours to keep. Flaws have become some sick substitute for a relationship and you take them to bed with you.

One time I was called by the parent of a high school student to intervene on his behalf because he was facing expulsion from school. During a math class, Jamal, an effeminate male student, was asked to come to the front of the class to work an algebraic equation. Not wanting to go in front, he answered his teacher back in a somewhat disrespectful tone. The teacher’s retort was to wink, sashay over to Jamal, and imitate Jamal’s response in a fluttery, exaggerated way. When the class broke out in laughter, Jamal couldn’t control himself and asked his teacher to go [“pleasure”] himself by inserting a broken bottle into one of his orifices. In no way do I condone Jamal’s behavior, but what about the teacher’s demeaning retort? Aren’t we as the adults supposed to take the high road?

I don’t see how a father, or any parent, can look at their son, the one they’ve loved since before the child was even born, and upon hearing him say, “Dad, I’m gay,” turn their back on him. The comments from men much older than me telling stories just like that break my heart. My wife always wants to adopt the teenage kids who write to her; I want to adopt the 60-year-old men who cry when they read that I tell my son how awesome he is. I don’t care if they are as old as my father; they deserve love just as much as anyone else.

My son was in another room talking to the big kids. They were fourth graders, 9- and 10-year-olds who are very cool, hip, and mature (according to my kid, anyway). They were a mix of girls and boys, and most of the girls were talking about which boys they thought were cute, and who was whose boyfriend or girlfriend. The boys were frequently providing commentary.

My son piped up, “Blaine is my boyfriend.” (Blaine is a gay male character on Glee.)

“You’re supposed to have a girlfriend,” one of girls snapped back, all snotty.

My kid shook his head. “No, I’m gay,” he said. “I have boyfriends.” Giggles came from all the girls, and one of the boys looked at him quizzically.

I’m 25 years old which means I’m an old youth and a baby adult. I’m out of the coveted 18-24 age bracket, I no longer sit at the kids table on Thanksgiving, but the adults still think I’m a crazy young person who they can’t take seriously. I feel like I’m finding out more and more each day what kind of a person I am, what habits will stick with me till the day I die, and it’s an awesome feeling. It’s nice to feel like I can….trust myself. Does that make sense? In college I wasn’t sure what my limits were with anything. I felt like I had the ability to constantly surprise myself with the decisions that I made but now I have a better understanding of what works for me. Simply put, I’m beginning to really know myself and live a healthy life.

Considering that my son has a longstanding crush onGlee’s Blaine and regularly refers to him as “my boyfriend,” I thought there was a fair chance that he would someday say, “I’m gay.” But my kid is only 7 years old. I figured I had a few years before we crossed that threshold (if we ever did), probably when he was 14 or 15. I never thought it would happen this soon.

Honestly, a must read!