I Didn’t Just Come Out as Gay

I Came Out as Needy

No one tells you this part.

That coming out isn’t just about admitting who you’re attracted to. It’s about admitting—maybe for the first time—that you want something.

Not just sex. Not just romance.vBut softness. Witnessing. Comfort. Chosen family.
A place to fall the fuck apart without earning the right to be there.

I didn’t just come out as gay.

I came out as needy.
And it wrecked me.

The Safety of Not Needing Anything

Before I came out, I was the one people leaned on.vThe rock. The helper. The capable one. The “I’m fine” girl.

I didn’t ask for much. I didn’t let myself need much.vBecause to need is to be vulnerable. And to be vulnerable when you’re hiding a secret that big?

Too dangerous.

So I learned to self-soothe. To perform being okay.vTo be emotionally low-maintenance, while quietly starving for affection I didn’t know how to name.

I wore strength like armor. And people loved me for it.

Coming Out Tore the Armor Off

Then I came out. And everything changed.

Because with the lie gone, the hunger showed up.

I didn’t just want women—I wanted intimacy. I wanted to be seen. I wanted someone to choose me, desire me, know me beyond what I could do for them.

And let me tell you: that kind of wanting?
Felt excruciating.

Because I wasn’t used to needing. I was used to proving. Providing. Fixing. Now I was sitting in a mess of longing, with zero tools and even less chill.

Neediness as a New Language

When you come out late, you don’t just start over sexually—you start over relationally.

You don’t know how to ask for what you want.
You don’t know how to trust that someone will stay if you stop performing.
You don’t even know what your needs are, because you’ve spent your whole damn life being the one who didn’t have any.

This isn’t about desperation. It’s about unfreezing.

It’s your heart, your body, your nervous system—all thawing out after decades of lockdown. Of course it feels intense. Of course it’s messy.

Of course it scares the shit out of you.

The Lie That You're “Too Much”

Let’s go here.

There’s this voice that creeps in when you start asking for more than crumbs.
It says:

“You’re too much now.”
“You were easier to love before.”
“Don’t ruin this by wanting too much.”

That voice is old. That voice is survival. That voice is the leftover conditioning of someone who learned that her needs were inconvenient, unsafe, or outright invisible.

But here’s the truth:

You are allowed to want to be held.
You are allowed to want to be chosen.
You are allowed to need softness, validation, reassurance, depth.
You are allowed to want a love that doesn’t ask you to shrink.

You are not too much.
You are just no longer performing being fine.

Real Talk from the Other Side

I still struggle with it.

Even with my wife. Even with all the work I’ve done.
There are still moments I feel the old reflex—Don’t ask for that. Don’t need too much. Don’t be a burden.

But every time I speak up, every time I let myself be held or seen or reassured?

A tiny part of me heals.

Because I didn’t come out just to be free.
I came out to feel.
To receive.
To belong—without having to earn it.

Let’s Talk:

What’s one thing you secretly want, but struggle to say out loud?

Let it out. Say it in the comments. Whisper it in the dark.
You don’t have to hide your hunger anymore.