Break the Illusion Blog by Davey Wavey

On this overcast Thursday morning, I have a tale to tell. Gather around, my friends, to hear the story of Seven Month Sally.

Even despite the stringent dress code at my all-male Catholic high school, it was pretty easy to identify me as gay. My button down shirt was fitted, my light-brown hair was artificially highlighted with blonde hues and my eyes would always wander in the locker room.

Oftentimes, my schoolmates would question my sexuality, but out of fear, I would dismiss their inquiries. As a 15 year old, I wasn’t quite ready to come out and I feared the repercussions of a homophobic high school. What better way to deflect such speculation than by having a girlfriend?

Enter Sally.

It was the summer before I entered my sophomore year of high school. I was a lifeguard at a pool club near my house. One of the patrons was a girl named Sally. Sally was a year younger than me. She was on the swim team. She went to an all female catholic school and had good, old-fashioned values. Our friendship was sincere – but the romantic relationship we forged was not.

Sally and I became boyfriend and girlfriend; and in doing so, Sally unwittingly became my beard. Looking back, I wonder how sally didn’t know that I liked boys. We took swing dance lessons together. We planted a garden in her backyard. We shopped together and gossiped every night on the phone.

My relationship with Sally was more than a means of deflecting inquiries about me being gay; it was my attempt to defy my sexual orientation. I thought I could “overcome” my gayness and will myself to create a life with a female partner. For seven months, Sally and I dated. But alas, the gayness won. The power of the penis is just too strong to deny. I knew that I couldn’t continue the lie.

When I broke up with Sally, I broke her heart. I know I did. And I’m truly sorry for the pain I caused her. She was a victim in my path of self discovery. But time has a great way of healing wounds, and Sally and I moved forward.

As I became increasingly comfortable with myself, I made the decision to come out. At the age of 16, I started coming out to friends. Sally was among those friends. When I told her, I saw a sense of relief wash over her face. Her reply was, “I thought you didn’t kiss me because I was too fat.” On the contrary, it was because she had a vagina.

And that, my friends, is the story of Seven Month Sally.

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