We all remember the First Girl. The one who made us go “Wait a minute,” or pushed us right off our axis, or maybe even broke our hearts. Sometimes she’s a friend, sometimes she’s a stranger, sometimes she’s straight, but she’s always there — the leading lady in every coming out story. In this case, I mean that literally. My First Girl was one of the stars of our high school theater department.
Leanne and I met in choir, which meant long hours in each other’s company and ample opportunities for me to fall headfirst into infatuation. The process of coming out to her, then to the world, and finally professing my love spanned two years, multiple choral festivals, and one high school musical (the official unit of time for artsy kids). And to her credit, she could not have responded better — especially given how Republican our hometown was. (Blessedly, I hear the tides are changing there now.) My crush on her deflated the minute I admitted it, but over ten years later, she’s still one...
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