I came out to my mother on New Years Eve, 2004, when I was 17 years old. I came out in a slightly unusual way; a teacher that lived on my street was tutoring me in French, and she was very liberal and she felt like someone I could confide in. I went around to hers with a bottle of brandy to say thanks for tutoring, and whilst I was there I asked her if she could read a letter I wanted to give to my mother. It was a coming out letter.

She read it, she sighed, she said nothing but gave me a packet of cigarettes from the pile she always kept next to the wine rack, and said "Congratulations on coming out". She poured me a wine, sat down, and said "Do you want me to give this to your mother?". I hadn't thought of it happening that way; I had intended to go back home and give it to her myself. I nodded, reluctantly. She left the house, making sure I had an ashtray, lighter, and access to the open bottle of wine, and went to my mother's house across the street.

They came back together, around fifteen minutes later. The teacher waited in the kitchen and left me and my mum alone in the living room. My mum sat next to me and started crying; she asked me whether I was sure, whether I thought this could be a phase, etc etc. I reiterated verbally what I said in the letter, that I knew I was gay and I had known since I was a little boy (I used to call myself a "tomgirl" when I was little due to lack of suitable vocabulary). She hugged me and told me she still loved me. She asked me, and the teacher, to come back across the road to continue the New Years' Eve celebrations, and never said a word about it again that night.

The next day she reiterated again that she still loved me. This went on for around a week, the daily "I still love you no matter what" message. Then she seemed to become used to the idea, and stopped. Now, over the past twelve years or so, she has developed her vocabulary on the topic from asking how my "special friend" was, to flat out asking how my boyfriend is (and, once, to my horror, "is he a stud?"). It's really not an issue now at all, and hasn't been for years. I'm glad she was fine with it eventually. My mother's best friend was a gay man who died of AIDS complications in the late 90s, and her brother-in-law also died of AIDS in the early 90s (They were close, and she and my grandmother were devastated that the nurses wouldn't let them see his body because it was in an airtight body bag incase "the AIDS gets out" - this was in a hospital in 1992), so I feel her being close to gay men in the past may have helped her.