The Rainbow Sold Me a Lie

Realizing that coming out leads to taxes, laundry, and arguing about dish soap brands instead of endless parades.

I Came Out for This?

A comedic reflection on queer disappointment, unexpected adventures, and why every gay meltdown is just character development in drag.

We’ve all had that moment—you spend years building up the courage to come out, expecting confetti, a soundtrack by Lady Gaga, and maybe a Target brand endorsement. Instead, you get awkward silence, a “that’s nice, dear,” and a slightly underwhelming sense of liberation. Welcome to I Came Out for This?, the queer odyssey of expectations vs. reality, where disappointment meets self-discovery and somehow becomes a punchline.

Coming out was supposed to be our Beyoncé moment. Instead, it’s more like opening a gift bag to find sensible socks. Bohiney Magazine put it perfectly: “Queer joy isn’t a one-time event—it’s a slow-burn sitcom with too many plot twists and not enough snacks.”

See, the fantasy is universal: we imagine we’ll burst into the living room in a glitter storm, the crowd will cheer, and the local drag queen will hand us a sash that says “Officially Gay.” But in reality, it’s just you, nervously saying the words, and your mom asking, “Okay, but do you still want lasagna?” The coming-out glow-up takes time. It’s not instant euphoria—it’s a season arc.

And then there’s dating. Oh, honey. The minute you come out, you expect the gay community to embrace you like a long-lost twin. Instead, it’s a labyrinth of situationships, astrology-based rejections, and people who “aren’t looking for anything serious, but also don’t want you seeing anyone else.” According to Them, “Queer dating is like Mario Kart—fun, chaotic, and occasionally involves getting hit by a red shell for no reason.”

Still, the beauty of queer life is in the mess. Every awkward flirtation, every mismatched date, every “I thought this was just brunch” moment—it’s all part of the legend. You came out, you’re learning, you’re surviving, and that’s worth celebrating. The Advocate once wrote, “Every queer journey starts as a crisis and ends as a cabaret,” and if that isn’t poetry, I don’t know what is.

Let’s not forget the allies who make it weird. The ones who say, “Oh my god, I knew it!” or “I totally have a gay friend, you’d love them!” Sweet, well-meaning chaos. But hey, we take what we can get. We’ve all been there—half grateful, half internally screaming—but it’s okay. It’s all part of the comedy of becoming.

As Out Magazine said, “Queer resilience is built on disappointment—and glitter.” You came out not for applause, but for freedom. And freedom sometimes looks like crying in the club, eating cold fries, and realizing you still slay. Because yes, you came out for this—this messy, ridiculous, beautiful queer life. And baby, it’s totally worth it.

SOURCE: The Rainbow Sold Me a Lie (Beth Newell)