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It’s confusing, right? You’re constantly having gay thoughts, and whenever you try to fight it and force yourself to like girls, you feel even gayer. What’s happening? Why are all paths leading to the same place?

You're not alone. This is exactly what it feels like to be gay and raised in a toxic conservative environment. It’s your body telling you it’s tired of hiding and your gay awakening is going to happen one way or another.

"Haven't you ever pondered why you have no luck with women?" my best friend asked me as she curled up on the couch, tucked her nylon covered legs under her.

"I...I don't know," I said, "women just seem to prefer, I don't know..."

"Masculine guys?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I supposed."

"Have you ever thought there was more to it?"

"More?"

"More. Like it isn't just a preference thing for women, I mean, don't get me wrong, of course women prefer masculine men, but have you ever thought it has to do with your preferences?"

"My preferences?"

"Like maybe they realize you aren't as attracted to women as you profess to be."

"Profess to be?" I said. "What does that mean? I'm attracted to women."

"What's the saying? The little boy doth protest too much..."

"Ashley, what are you talking about?"

"You're my bestie, do you want me to be honest?"

"Of course."

"I think one of the reasons you don't have any luck women is you're self-sabotaging."

"Self-sabotaging, why would I do that?"

"So you don't succeed."

"Why wouldn't I want to succeed with women?"

"Because I think you think you're attracted to women, but I wonder if you're really attracted to men."

"Ashley!"

"Remember that cute girl we ran into at the bar last week?"

"Not particularly," I said.

"She was with that cute guy..."

"The lawyer?"

She laughed. "See?"

"See what?"

"I ask you to remember a cute girl and you can't; I ask you to remember a cute guy and you know exactly who I'm talking about."

"Ash..."

"All I'm saying is I think you're more attracted to guys than girls."

"I..." I didn't know what to say.

"Sweetie, I'm your bestie, right? I'm not saying it to be mean, I'm saying it to help you get what you really want."

"And what's that?"

"Well," Hanna, my best friend, asked me showing off her dress.

I looked at her, appraised her, up and down. "I'd go with black pumps," I said, "the dress is classic; the shoes have too much going on."

Hanna looked at me, a dumbfounded look on her face.

"What?" I asked.

"A hot girl in a tight dress asks you how she looks and you're reaction is to tell her to change shoes?"

"They don't go," I said.

"I wish you'd just admit it," she said.

"Admit what?"

"That you're femme...that you like guys."

"Hanna!"