Late bloomers do still rise.

I am and I’ve been a late bloomer in almost every aspect of life. Career aspirations, first kiss, masturbation… I was always late. Or let’s say, I needed my time. Especially when it came to my sexual identity.

I grew up in a small village in eastern Germany. I was a cute boy who laughed a lot and who was quite popular. Back then, I was really fond of Michael Jackson. I loved his music and the way he danced. Somehow, I wanted to be like him. I remember one day, I moonwalked in front of my class and everybody was hooked, including the teacher. But as we grew older things changed.

Some of my classmates suddenly started bullying me for things I wasn’t aware of, like the way I walked or talked. They made me feel like there was something wrong with me. It didn’t really occur to me that I might be gay, because I had never consciously felt attracted to men or even fallen in love with a boy (well, except Michael, lol) But the worst part was that I couldn’t really confide in anyone, because I was too ashamed. It was a horrible and hurtful time, which turned me from a lively, open-minded boy to a shy and unconfident man.

From then on, I concentrated on my studies and distracted myself with other things, so that I didn’t have to deal with my sexuality. Funny enough, I watched gay porns sometimes when I was a bit older, but I couldn’t admit to myself that I was gay. Due to my experiences as a teenager, being gay always meant rejection and exclusion to me. And so, the years passed by…

I was twenty-eight when I came to Munich for my first job. Here a new world opened up to me: suddenly I had colleagues who were obviously gay and(!) popular and I met people with whom I could talk about (sexual) preferences quite naturally and without prejudice.

It still took some time before I came out, but the people that surrounded me and the big city life definitely had a beneficial effect on me. At some point it happened as it had to happen: I fell in love with a man and from that moment on I couldn’t fool myself anymore. It was a time of relief and liberation, which was followed by one of the happiest periods of my life. I could finally be who I really was and I was loved and accepted at the same time. Looking back, I often wonder why it took me so long? But that’s probably the fate of late bloomers.

Now I’m forty-three, single again, and I sometimes think that nowadays I’m living the life that I should have been living when I was twenty-three. I wander stumbling through the world, without a real plan. I go dancing at the clubs, if I feel like. I have dates, hookups, heartbreaks… I’m looking for love, but probably in all the wrong places. But it’s not that I have the feeling that I need to catch up on something, I have just a different timing than others. And that’s why I feel a bit lost sometimes, and lonely, because the companions of my age are usually in completely different phases of life than I am.

I mean, being a late bloomer is not a bad thing. It just means that you’re never really in-time with the things that are happening around you. It’s a life in the in-between. But nowadays I also see the positive aspect of it: when everything around is fading away, late bloomers do still rise.

This story was also posted in Elska, a bi-monthly magazine, dedicated to male photography and (gay) culture.

One of the main ideas which separates Elska from other gay photography related publications is that it does not feature perfect models, but instead focuses on real people with their imperfections, presenting real life people and stories, and providing a kaleidoscope glimpse at queer men and community around the globe. [wikipedia.org]