As I was growing up, I was among the youngest in a large family. I saw my older brothers and sisters date and then marry a woman or a man, then start a family. I saw all of my cousins — all 179 of them — do that too. Yeah, as I said, I have a LARGE family. We occupy a small country to the east of … well, there I go again, digressing on yet another tangent 🙂
I grew up expecting that I was straight. I never wanted to be anything other than straight. I had no reason to expect that I wasn’t straight. My admiration of boys my age were of respect of those who were much more athletically inclined (like my twin brother) or their boots. Honestly, that was it. I took a liking to boots on guys a long, long time ago. But I had no idea — no fathom of a thought — that I could or would like men in the way that straight guys like women.
But I finally figured it out, and have explained that process on this blog in many posts over years. But the hardest part after coming out to myself was coming out to my mother. See this post from a year ago about how my Mom learned to accept and continue to love me, regardless of my sexual orientation. This post is about how I “came out” to her.
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Here is a photo taken recently in a story about a kiddie pop star who took a spin on a sport bike in Beverly Hills, California. 
My fiance and I had a great weekend! Busy with chores around the house on Saturday, and also taking five of my senior pals to get groceries, we accomplished our chores by early afternoon. Then my fiance said, “it’s nice out, why don’t you go for a ride on your Harley? The weather won’t be suitable for riding soon, so ride when you can!”