Losing a Friend

This empty frame once held a picture of me and an old friend. She stopped talking to me after I came out to her.



“I’m disappointed that you haven’t talked to me since I came out to you. You really let me down.”

Those are the words I sent to a girl who used to be one of my best friends.

We met in high school and stayed in touch well after graduation. We would drive down to the beach and talk about our faith, boy problems, and hopes for the future.

A couple months ago, she texted me that her grandfather’s health was failing. I called her right away to comfort her. At the time, I happened to be coming out to people for the first time. I wanted to tell her there on the phone but knew it was not the right time or place yet.

About a month after her grandfather passed, I came home from college for the summer and could talk to her in person. Since she comes from pretty sheltered Catholic family, I knew she would probably think that being bisexual was sinful. But I wanted our friendship to be authentic and that couldn’t happen if I kept my orientation a secret. I hoped that even if she could not support my bisexuality, it would not change how she felt about me.

One day after going shopping together, I sat her down on a bench on Main St. in our hometown and I told her how I fell in love with a girl.

She thanked me for being honest with her and admitted that she thought homosexuality was a sin. She pleaded me not to give up on men. I tried to explain that gender is not a requirement for my love. We walked back to our cars and hugged goodbye. She promised we would still be friends.

The whole summer passed without a single word from her.

When I moved back in to my dorm for the fall semester, I stumbled upon a frame she gave me with a picture us at her graduation. I almost broke down crying. I thought I had gotten over her rejection but apparently I had just buried my hurt. So I decided to just be honest with her about how I felt and text her:

“I’m disappointed that you haven’t talked to me since I came out to you. You really let me down.”

And her response:

“Even though we haven’t hung out, I haven’t forgotten about our friendship. I’ve been praying for you that God will always give you guidance.”

Her reaction set off a volcano in me. She may as well have said that she was trying to 'pray the gay away.' Her use of the word ‘friendship’ also bothered me. I thought that if she really cared about me she would push me to do what she thought was best for me, even if I disagreed. Like the frame she gave me said, a “true friend reaches for your hand and touches your heart.” I felt she was avoiding my touch like I had a disease. I went on to say, “I can’t consider you a friend anymore.”

At church the next morning, I felt bad about what I said. I confided in a gay mentor of mine named Dick. He told me the story of his father’s journey towards acceptance. Dick’s father cut off ties with Dick for years after he came out. It was not until a family funeral that his father finally realized he wanted to repair their relationship. Dick told me not to give up on my friend. All I can do extend my hand to her. It cannot force her to accept it—to accept me.

Right after mass, I texted her to apologize for saying we were not friends anymore. I said, “I don’t want to give up on our friendship… seeing your picture yesterday reminded me that I still care about you.”

She never replied. I haven’t heard from her since. She defriended me on Facebook.

Some people tell me that a friend who doesn’t accept you for who you are is not a friend worth having. I should celebrate all the new and strengthened friendships that came from coming out. Yet every time I think about this one friend, my heart aches with hunger.

Although it hurts me, I don’t take her rejection too personally. I recognize that she did not want to question her faith. My news scared her to her core. She is avoiding me in part to avoid challenging her beliefs. But the way I see it, she will never grow spiritually without facing her spiritual fears.

I believe something good will come out of this situation, even if I never get to see the result. I don’t regret coming out to her. It opened her eyes to a subject she was uncomfortable with. Her stereotypes about LGBT people are cracked now that she has a personal connection to someone who is bisexual. Maybe the next time someone comes out to her, she will be ready to face her spiritual fears and develop a deeper understanding of what it means to be a Christian.