Respect our history, we are not Americans, the pseudo-intellectuals claim. “We don’t come out the way you do. In Greece we keep bringing our partners to family events until relatives finally ask: ‘Is George coming to Easter lunch? I need to know for the seating.’” There. Simple. Once underway, you acclimate. You are finally dating a Greek, in Greece, and you are in love. So you make pretexts. Why fight with pluralism?

OUT Magazine.

“What time are you leaving?” my Greek boyfriend asked me. “Because my sister is coming at 7 a.m. tomorrow.” I veiled my Seriously? face with a “6:55” jest. This was an exchange between two middle-aged men—a fact that makes the use of the word “boyfriend” problematic. Manfriend, maybe? Partner? But we didn’t have a partnership. That would require a commitment between two parties as witnessed by—or at least in relation to—other, third parties. We did not have that, or not exactly. Although I had been out for 20 years, my friend had been living his adult life in a glass closet. Everyone could see that he was gay, but neither he nor anyone else would publicly acknowledge his sexuality.

In places where gay rights are not on a par with human rights, glass closets are often justified as a necessary mezzanine. They are even portrayed as progress. Greece, the Baccarat of fine glass closets, with all its cultural centers and beach-cleaning charities, offers an extra clout of social respect to the officially not-out gay men from affluent suburbs. Our society is not ready for more, you hear in Athens. Being able to go to gay bars with friends is a huge step, locals argue. Respect our history, we are not Americans, the pseudo-intellectuals claim. “We don’t come out the way you do. In Greece we keep bringing our partners to family events until relatives finally ask: ‘Is George coming to Easter lunch? I need to know for the seating.’” There. Simple. Once underway, you acclimate. You are finally dating a Greek, in Greece, and you are in love. So you make pretexts. Why fight with pluralism?

There was a circle of friends around us. We went to parties where I was warned that some knew, and some did not. How can they not? “Well, they may speculate.” And I was told that certain co-workers’ birthday dinners were off-limits. I complied. I was a good boyfriend, manfriend, whatever. It was only a matter of time, I thought. At a weekend getaway at my family’s country house on the beach, his mother called. Why was he in Northern Greece again, she asked him. Did he have a girlfriend there? He never had a girlfriend, ever, nor pretended that he did. “This is her way of asking me if I have a boyfriend,” he told me fondly. Her way of telling him that she cared. What he was failing to see, or admit, was that his mother was fortifying her boundaries. By stating “girlfriend” versus “someone,” she was asserting that she would not stomach a non-hetero glossary in case something of substance was in the works.

Read full article: https://www.out.com/lifestyle/2017/10/02/seen-not-seen-glass-closets-rarely-just-open