I was born into a pretty stable family. My father was just starting his new job as a detective for the local police department and my mother was being recognized as teacher of the year for the middle school she taught at. They seemed like the perfect middle class couple, and my addition made them into the perfect middle class family.

When I was three, my little sister Lisa was born. We looked like a Disney Channel family: a set of heterosexual parents, the older son, and the younger daughter. Society's definition of the word "family".

Growing up, my sister and I never had to worry about anything. My parents had a steady salary and we were lucky that none of us got sick or injured often. We've always had a roof over our heads and food on our plates. My parents made sure to fill our rooms with all the toys we could ever ask for. My childhood was perfect; that was until three years ago.

I was twelve and everyone was getting back from summer break. It felt like a normal day; I went to homeroom, I went to first period. I headed to second period: P.E.

As I entered the locker room, I looked for a hook to hang my stuff on. The sheer amount of bodies filling the space made it difficult to see the wall, but I managed to find one. I was in the middle of putting my gym shorts on when another boy put his gym bag on the hook next to mine.

He had light brown hair and hazel eyes. Freckles dotted his face and braces we're on his teeth. Butterflies were swirling in my stomach and it felt like the room had gotten ten times hotter.

I began to try to get closer to this boy, whose name I learned was Michael. I would partner up with him during P.E. and sit with him at lunch. At the end of the day, I would wait for him in the bus parking lot just so I could say bye as he was boarding the bus.

I didn't know why I was doing that. At least I didn't until one night I had a dream where the two of us were holding hands and he leaned over the peck a kiss on my lips. Michael was my first crush.

I was so confused. I had been told my whole life that I would have crushes on girls. On TV, the boy would get the girl not the boy. My parents had taught me the importance of respecting my future girlfriend or wife. Could I have a boyfriend?

I wasn't sure if that was possible. No guys I knew were dating other guys. So I decided to ask my parents.

We were at the dinner table and the smell of mom's smothered chicken filled the room. I was sat next to Lisa, who was going on about her class' Halloween party they had earlier in the day. My mom was spooning vegetables on to her plate and my dad was pretending to listen to the overly-excitable nine year old.

"And there were cookies with sprinkles and grape soda and cupcakes. It came with a spider ring!" Lisa thrust her hand into the middle of the table so everyone could see the plastic spider on her finger. "Isn't cool?"

"Oh yeah," dad said. "That's so cool."

"Lisa, sweetheart. Take a breath and eat some food," mom said.

It was quiet for a few seconds after that and I knew I had a very short time to say what I needed to say.

"Mom, can boys have boyfriends?"

My mom's fork fell onto her plate and made a loud plink when it hits. She looked at my dad whose hands were in fists on the table.

"No," dad said in a deep voice. "Boys cannot have boyfriends and I do not want to hear any of that nonsense in this house. Do you understand?"

I had never heard my dad use that tone of voice before. It made me jump out of my skin.

"Why not," I asked. As soon as the words left my lips, I knew I had said the wrong thing. My dad's face turned a bright red and my mom placed her hand on my dad's arm.

"Because it's a sin and it's disgusting," dad yelled. "I will not have my son asking about such disgusting things!"

Lisa started to cry and my mom was trying to calm my dad down. He stared at me with rage in his eyes. I didn't know what to do. I just sat there and started to push the vegetables around on my plate.

Dad got up from the table and slammed the chair as he pushed it in. Mom followed him upstairs and into their bedroom. Lisa was still crying and was twisting the spider around her finger. I grabbed her hand and took her to the living room where I put on her favorite show and hugged her, both for her sake and mine.

Since then, we haven't talked about the subject of homosexuality. But you can tell things have changed. My dad no longer asked about my day. Instead he asked me about the girls in my class or would tell me about his partner's daughter who was the same age as me. He wouldn't let me go to sleepovers and would only let me hang out with guys he approved of. I wasn't allowed to hang out with guys friends outside of school.

I stopped hanging out with Michael and he looked sad everytime I passed him in the hallway. He moved halfway through the year. I tried hard to have crushes on girls in my class, but it never worked. My last year of middle school was terrible.

It wasn't until high school that things started to get better. My freshman year, I joined my school's football team and became one of the popular people in my class. I was invited to every party and given many gifts on my birthday.

The only downside was that I was still unable to have a crush on a girl. I did ask one girl out: Anastasia Phillips.

She isn't the most popular of girls. She tends to jump from clique to clique making friends with anyone and everyone who will let her.

I had asked Anastasia to our school's homecoming dance our freshman year. We went and it was fun, but at the end of it we both agreed that it was awkward for two major reasons: me being a closeted gay and her being a quoiromantic asexual.

Since then me and Ana have stayed friends and she taught me how to be comfortable as a gay man and to not hate myself for something I can't change. She even helped me get my first boyfriend.