Dear Roe,
I am a 28-year-old man who is coming to terms with the fact that I am gay. I realised I was attracted to men years ago and had a series of short-lived relationships with women. However, I ended these as they didn’t feel right. I had a relatively conservative upbringing where these issues would never really come up with family, but I get the sense that this is something that would be tolerated, not celebrated. I now find myself wanting to explore and date guys my age, and am sad that college and my formative years were in a sense wasted as I tried to repress that part of myself. I am in a high-powered job and have a circle of close friends that are all in the dark about me. Superficially, life is very good and I dread that this will damage my career and relationships with my friends if I come out as it’s gone on so long - they still try and set me up with female colleagues. But I’d really like to at least try to find someone to share my life with. I don’t think it’s fair to date men when I’m sitting on this fence I’ve created in my head. How can I approach my new life after I’ve missed the exit?
You have not missed the exit. There is never an expiration date on being yourself, and you do not have to be perfect or have figured everything out to begin to live more authentically. By coming out, you will begin a process of exploring, stumbling and entering a new phase of your life that you do not yet have experience in – and that’s okay. That’s the point. You’ll be learning to exist in a more honest, fulfilling, joyful, open way. There will be insecurity and Bambi-legs along the way, because every journey of self-exploration comes with uncertainty. There may also be growing pains, awkwardness, and some heartbreak. But it’s going to be so incredibly beautiful.
Right now, you’re already experiencing insecurity and anxiety and pain – but you’re experiencing them through hiding. You’re living a life where you have to lie and hide even from those closest to you; you’re missing out on full-hearted connection, on the joy (and struggle) of dating people you want to, and on the possibility of transformative love.
I ended my situationship six months ago but I’m still not over him. How do I move on?
Where can my wife and I access porn that is both legal and erotic?
I think I’m in love with my ‘situationship’ but he doesn’t feel the same
‘My brother-in-law wants to move in with us but I don’t think my marriage will survive it’
I know you’re scared. In our culture, we talk a lot about how scary it is to come out as a young person, and rightly so – but we also need to talk about the unique complexity of coming out when you’re a bit older. Because the truth is, as we get older, we get more entrenched in our identity, in our social life and in our roles within our social worlds. To disrupt that, to not only shift other people’s perception and understanding of us in a big way, but also to begin a process of self-exploration and dating and trying out relationship with no life experience and fewer roadmaps than straight people have, can feel very daunting and destabilising. You’re used to being seen a certain way – high-achieving, accomplished, put-together and, yes, straight. Now, you’re considering stepping into something vulnerable and messy and new. Of course it’s scary.
There is never an expiration date on living more authentically. Queer people have long pushed back against rigid timelines and milestones. We make our own maps
But that messiness? That vulnerability? That’s living. That’s the stuff love, desire and transformation are made of. And there is never an expiration date on starting that journey. Queer people have long pushed back against rigid timelines and milestones. We make our own maps. The theory of queer time, as developed by trans scholar Jack Halberstam, challenges the traditional, linear timeline of life – milestones such as marriage, buying a home and having children by a certain age. Queer time proposes an alternative way of thinking about temporality, one that values unpredictability, non-reproduction, community, and the freedom to live outside rigid societal schedules. It acknowledges that queer people, often forced to navigate exclusion or repression, may experience life events later or “out of sync” with dominant timelines – and that this is not a failure but a powerful reimagining of what a meaningful, full life can look like. Queer time embraces delay, disruption, reinvention, and the possibility of starting over – at any age, in any way. You are not the first person who hasn’t come out until adulthood. You are not the first person who has been scared to start over. But in doing so, you join a rich and exquisite history of queer people who have decided they deserve to live authentically – and who have been brave enough to take the first step towards the life and love they deserve, at all ages.
You write that you feel like you can’t date men until you’ve come out and figured everything out and can do it perfectly – but that’s not a fence. That’s fear talking. No one dates perfectly. No one has everything figured out. You won’t feel certain until you start. If you get to Carnegie Hall by practicing, you get to love by having awkward flirtations, weird conversations, and some bad dates first. Most of the men you meet will have been through their own process. Even beyond dating, you’ll find a community that understands your timeline and knows perfection doesn’t exist.
You don’t have to come out to everyone all at once. Start with one person. Go to some LGBTQ+ events and tell people you’re just beginning to come out. You’ll find kindness that will bolster your courage. Let the truth emerge in small, safe ways if that feels better than an overhaul. Begin to build your queer life one brick at a time. Some people may be surprised. Some may fumble. But many will meet you with love and relief that you’re letting them see you clearly. And those who don’t? They were only ever loving the version of you that made them comfortable. You deserve more.
You’re worried about time. But know this: time will pass either way. At 38, you could either have ten years of authentic love and connection under your belt – or be exactly where you are now, still wondering “What if?” and still telling yourself, “It’s too late now. I missed the exit.”
There’s no expiration date on living authentically. There’s also no way to avoid the fear of beginning. But you can choose to move through that fear – towards joy.
In The Painted Drum, Louise Erdrich writes, “Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and being alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You have to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes too near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could.”
You don’t need the full map, just the next step. Tell a friend. Go to a gay bar. Make a dating profile. Say aloud, “I get to love. I get to feel. It is the reason I am here on earth.”
You’re not too late. You’re just ready now. I’m so excited for the rest of your life.
