Small Town Boy Moves to the Big City: The Revival of my Homosexual Friend

By: Dawn Farrell

Dale and I grew up in Eganville, Ontario. A small town located in the Ottawa Valley with a population of 1,200 people with nine churches, a very religious town.

We met when we were five because we had the same babysitter. Although, it wasn’t years later when we were in grade six that we actually started hanging out on a regular basis. We bonded and became best of friends.

I never thought it was strange that Dale rather hang out with me and my girlfriends, than play ball hockey with the boys at lunch hour. I just figured we were a lot more fun.

One day, Dale and I were at my house listening to one of our favourite songs, Lucky Love by Ace of Base. While we were dancing, my oldest brother came into the room. Dale turned around in shock and sat down on my bed. At the time, I couldn’t understand why he was so embarrassed.

As teenagers, Dale and I spent so much time together that his family assumed I was his girlfriend, and we never did anything to confirm or deny this.

We hung out a lot at my house because he lived fifteen minutes outside of town. It was more convenient to go to the park or store from my place. But, as much fun as we had, Dale never liked being around my brothers and their friends.

I couldn’t blame him. They would tease Dale and call him a fag. I would tell my mom on them for bullying Dale around, even though, he said that he wasn’t bothered by it.

At times, I felt it troubled me more because I liked Dale coming over and I didn’t what him feeling uncomfortable at my home.

At our grade 8 graduation, Dale told me that he was planning to move to Toronto to live with his Aunt. I wasn’t sad about him leaving that summer because I had plans to visit my cousins in Mississauga and I knew I would see him again soon.

After grad, Dale invited me to go to the ‘Gay Pride’ parade with him. He explained that his uncle owned a bar right in the middle of the entire celebration festivities.

While walking the streets, I saw random men checking Dale out and I would tell him. I was a little jealous because none of them found me attractive. Dale disregarded my comments.

Two years later, Dale came out.

To this day, I can’t believe how I could never tell, but, then again, Dale was my best friend and I trusted his word when he denied being homosexual, so I never thought twice about it.

"Does it bother you?" he asked anxiously, inspecting my face for signs of disapproval. It didn’t. I’d never really known anyone who was gay, but after attending the ‘Gay Pride’ parade and visiting the city often I felt I was open-minded about such things.

By the time Dale came home to visit his family and friends, the whole town knew that he was gay and everyone that found out wasn’t as tolerant as I was.

As if the pressure from a moralistic society wasn’t bad enough, Dale had to cope with a rigid and unaccepting community. No doubt, I’ve seen him struggle through more than his share of anxiety and trauma for simply being who he is.

He called me up, but he no longer wanted to come to my house. If I wanted to see him, I’d have to go to him. He didn’t want to see anyone that he thought would judge him.

Six years has past since Dale came out. I’m living in Toronto now too. We don’t see each other as much as I would like to because I’ve been so busy with school.

However, this past Christmas, we were both at home visiting the Valley and he called me to meet up with him for drinks at the bar his mother just bought.

He’s still the same Dale as he was growing up together, but now he has this glow to him. He no longer feels ashamed or embarrassed. He feels comfortable in his own skin.

If only the rest of the town could see, they would be so proud.

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