American Eagle Outfitters sells a men’s shirt that has green and yellow stripes on a white background. When I saw it, I decided to get it for my brother. While waiting to check out, I saw a man I presumed to be gay wearing the shirt – so I mentally labeled it a “gay shirt” and put it back. Even though I don’t consider myself homophobic, I did not want my brother to wear a “gay shirt.” Instead, I picked a black T-shirt that I thought better represented heterosexuality.

I’m in a math class made up of students from all around Buffalo, New York. Every year many new students sign up and drop out, so most of the relationships formed are temporary. I was never close with my classmates.

Then Samuel sat next to me. Our class was three hours long, and within a week we became really bored – and so comfortable around each other that we would constantly tease one another. We relentlessly called the other stupid, ugly, fat, smelly, and gay. Our only intention was to pass those long hours of class and snag a couple of cheap laughs.

For instance, Samuel struggled with test grades. He sometimes said, “Why can’t I get good grades?” I would say, “It’s just because you’re stupid.” Whenever I sneezed, Samuel turned to me and screamed, “Shut up!” Occasionally Samuel would look at me and pretend to die from my ugliness. We both considered these insults playful, not offensive.

The teasing made our relationship weird, though. We were so sarcastic that being serious was uncomfortable and foreign. Sometimes Samuel and I would try to have a conversation without insulting each other. It never worked out very well, because once one person said something funny or insulting, it would snowball. I assumed that we just weren’t really good friends.

Two months into our friendship, Samuel wore the shirt I had seen at American Eagle. Because our friendship was based on mocking each other, I told Samuel that he was wearing a “gay shirt.” He laughed, and we began to call that shirt his “gay shirt.”

For these few months, our conversations consisted only of sarcasm and laughter. Then Samuel and I met for coffee one Saturday and he said, “I have to tell you something.” I thought he was going to tell me to shut up or call me ugly. Instead he said, “I’m gay.” When I looked up I was smiling because I thought he was kidding, but then I saw that he looked tense and a bit pink.

I realized that Samuel was scared of me. He had exposed a vulnerable side of himself and had given me a lot of power. He was afraid that I would abuse him with his secret. He had taken those gay jokes seriously, even though he had laughed. He was a good actor because he’d had a lot of practice. He had rated the girls in our math class along with the other boys. He had played truth or dare at parties, and he had lied a lot. He was scared because now he needed me to be a good actor and a good friend – and he wasn’t sure I would be.

There was a moment between when he told me and I began crying. During that pause, I fell in love with him, and I realized that the American Eagle shirt was his gay shirt. I cried because I was part of his problem. I had been hurting him for months and now I loved him.

There was a pause between when I started crying and when he started crying. That pause was for him to take a breath of sweet relief. I don’t know why he cried, but I think it was because he was so tired – tired of feeling alone.

I think I became a bit more than just a friend. I became his publicly sobbing, emotionally unstable best friend. I think that sometimes his secret was a wrecking ball. It was breaking him.

We cried in silence for about ten minutes. Then he said, “Wow, it’s really quiet.” I didn’t answer, because by not talking and not laughing for ten minutes, I had become closer to him than I had with most people in my life. Telling his secret had been like swinging the wrecking ball; it had broken down a wall between us.

When he left the coffee shop, he still said that I was ugly. And I still laughed.