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There was a day in class when the dude sitting beside me began to whisper in my ears and before I knew what was happening, I already had an erection.
It was my first ever erection and I felt embarrassed about it.
I told my parents about it and the next day, I found myself in the office of a psychologist, a man probably in his late forties or early fifties.
To my surprise, my dad flared up and began to rant. All she asked of me is that I should be a good boy that she will be proud of.
Each time I think of that moment, I wish it was possible to reverse time to when I was conceived so that I will prevent him from ever being my dad. Growing up in a different neighborhood, I met another kind of stereotype that was viler than the first.
Little did I know that I will leave the neighborhood much earlier.
To my greatest amazement, this hate for gay grew to a terrifying level. They knew all the gay guys in the area so finding them was not a problem.
It began by mere trading of words, insults and so on if they ever get to know that you are gay.