I'm 36, I'm gay, and I've never had a formal relationship with another man.
Two years ago, a coworker joined the company and completely captivated me. It wasn’t his looks that drew me in—it was his presence, the way he listened, shared, and just was. We became close friends very quickly. Every week, we’d go out to an Italian restaurant together, and those moments filled me with immense joy. At a time when I was struggling emotionally and battling suicidal thoughts, his companionship brought me light and kept me going.
As time went on, people at work started noticing our bond. Many assumed we were a couple. He was often perceived as effeminate, which added fuel to the rumors. Some friends confronted me about it directly. That moment pushed me to finally open up—for the first time in 17 years, I told those close friends the truth: I was gay and I was in love with him. They accepted me wholeheartedly and became a pillar of support.
He always said he was straight, and I’ve always respected that. Still, deep down, I felt like there was something between us—something unspoken. Eventually, he started dating a female intern, and it broke me. Despite that, I chose to stay in his life as a friend. I poured all my feelings into being the best friend I could be.
We kept going out to eat occasionally, and one day I encouraged him to study abroad in Europe—even knowing this might mean losing him forever. I went all in: collecting documents, filing papers with both our government and Spain’s, and helping him secure a scholarship. He’s now living in Europe, and in every photo he sends, he looks happy—and that happiness brings me peace and joy.
It’s been eight months since he left, and my feelings haven’t faded. In fact, I think I love him more than ever. He recently came back home to visit his family, and we spent three wonderful days together. These past months have been hard—I was transferred to a new office with much older colleagues, and I’ve felt deeply alone. But his visit was like a beam of light. Hearing his voice, seeing his smile, being near him—it made me feel alive again.
Then, for the first time in my life, I did something I never thought I could: I told him I loved him. I told him I would have come out for him, that I would’ve given up everything—my job, my family, my stability—if there had been a real chance for something between us. Because to me, he was worth it.
I also told him I understood that he didn’t feel the same way, and that regardless of that, he would always have my unconditional friendship. I promised to keep helping him however I could, and that when he eventually found someone, I’d be truly happy for him.
He listened with kindness. He said it was the first time anyone had ever confessed something like that to him. He thanked me. He called me a great friend.
A few hours ago, I dropped him off at the airport. I gave him a big hug and said, “I love you so much.” I held back tears in front of him, but once I got in the car, I broke down crying—repeating his name, saying I love you, I love you, I love you.
Today, I feel like I did something important for myself. That no matter what, I took a huge step in accepting who I am. But I also feel incredibly vulnerable, scared, with a knot in my stomach.
I’m proud of myself. But I don’t know what to do with all these emotions now.
If anyone has advice on how to process this or how to move forward, I’d really appreciate it.
Two years ago, a coworker joined the company and completely captivated me. It wasn’t his looks that drew me in—it was his presence, the way he listened, shared, and just was. We became close friends very quickly. Every week, we’d go out to an Italian restaurant together, and those moments filled me with immense joy. At a time when I was struggling emotionally and battling suicidal thoughts, his companionship brought me light and kept me going.
As time went on, people at work started noticing our bond. Many assumed we were a couple. He was often perceived as effeminate, which added fuel to the rumors. Some friends confronted me about it directly. That moment pushed me to finally open up—for the first time in 17 years, I told those close friends the truth: I was gay and I was in love with him. They accepted me wholeheartedly and became a pillar of support.
He always said he was straight, and I’ve always respected that. Still, deep down, I felt like there was something between us—something unspoken. Eventually, he started dating a female intern, and it broke me. Despite that, I chose to stay in his life as a friend. I poured all my feelings into being the best friend I could be.
We kept going out to eat occasionally, and one day I encouraged him to study abroad in Europe—even knowing this might mean losing him forever. I went all in: collecting documents, filing papers with both our government and Spain’s, and helping him secure a scholarship. He’s now living in Europe, and in every photo he sends, he looks happy—and that happiness brings me peace and joy.
It’s been eight months since he left, and my feelings haven’t faded. In fact, I think I love him more than ever. He recently came back home to visit his family, and we spent three wonderful days together. These past months have been hard—I was transferred to a new office with much older colleagues, and I’ve felt deeply alone. But his visit was like a beam of light. Hearing his voice, seeing his smile, being near him—it made me feel alive again.
Then, for the first time in my life, I did something I never thought I could: I told him I loved him. I told him I would have come out for him, that I would’ve given up everything—my job, my family, my stability—if there had been a real chance for something between us. Because to me, he was worth it.
I also told him I understood that he didn’t feel the same way, and that regardless of that, he would always have my unconditional friendship. I promised to keep helping him however I could, and that when he eventually found someone, I’d be truly happy for him.
He listened with kindness. He said it was the first time anyone had ever confessed something like that to him. He thanked me. He called me a great friend.
A few hours ago, I dropped him off at the airport. I gave him a big hug and said, “I love you so much.” I held back tears in front of him, but once I got in the car, I broke down crying—repeating his name, saying I love you, I love you, I love you.
Today, I feel like I did something important for myself. That no matter what, I took a huge step in accepting who I am. But I also feel incredibly vulnerable, scared, with a knot in my stomach.
I’m proud of myself. But I don’t know what to do with all these emotions now.
If anyone has advice on how to process this or how to move forward, I’d really appreciate it.
