There exists a troubling narrative about LGBT individuals. According to various stories (novels, film, television etc.), a gay individual will find liberation and power through a single act: “coming out of the closet.” Indeed, it seems that announcing your “sexual orientation” is the last step to social acceptance and personal identity. From my experience, this is all a myth.

A little background: I identify as cis-gendered, gay male. And I’ve grown sick of explaining this. I’ve been publically out for almost two years. Before I made the announcement, I was expecting this to be a big deal — that my life would suddenly change, that I’d be welcomed into a new and exciting “community” (Bleh, I resent that word now). When I did post the news, my heart was warmed by countless heartfelt comments; my friends and family supported me wholeheartedly. That is the most important part of the process, no doubt. Yet something still felt missing. Though I boldly announced my gayness on social media (and even to a few friends in-person), my day-to-day activities remained unchanged, static. Television, film, and literature had told me that this announcement would be groundbreaking. Will and Grace (from “Will and Grace”) only became best of friends after Will came out. Surely I was entitled to the benefits other out-gays enjoyed. Alas, not much changed when I left that familiar “closet.”

Remember that “community” I mentioned earlier? I still haven’t found that either. In its place, I found a toxic online dating community that only worsened my self-esteem. After coming out, I felt like the underdog in the world of underdogs—still isolated. Although I hate generalizing, my experiences in the “gay community” have been cold, and disheartening. Once—outside of dating sphere, in an average conversation—my “looks” (or sexual appeal) were rated by another man: 5/10. Another man on Tinder said he “super-liked” me just because he “liked chubbies.” In place of a warm and welcoming new set of friends, I’ve been greeted with objectification. And people wonder why I don’t go “clubbing.”

Like I mentioned earlier, I’m actually a little tired of “coming out” (or at least applying labels to myself in daily conversation). While choosing to live an “out-life” might be a one-time decision, I am faced with explaining my sexual orientation (at some point) whenever I make a new friend. It will inevitably come up: “Have you ever had a girlfriend?” “No, actually, I’m gay.” “Oh, sorry.” These dialogues have little variation, and each comes with its own awkward silence. Though LGBT folks have their one “Susan, I’m gay!” moment, it most likely won’t be the only one.

There’s one identity myth, in particular, that grinds my gears: when men come out, their whole personality flips. Fashion, body language, it all changes — or does it? My clothes, voice, and character have remained static to my “outness.” Of course, I acknowledge that many mask certain aspects of their personality if they’re not out. However, this is not the case for everyone — and not for me. I may still be bitter from when someone accused me of “pandering to straight people.”

I know that I have ranted for the past few paragraphs, and though I have my own ideas about what being “gay” means in the 21st century, I know that others may feel differently. And these feelings are more than valid and valued. I can only express “my truth.”