WARNING: A slur against gay people appears below in my writing. I was recently in a conversation with another gay male when he used the slur multiple times. No offense is meant by me and I've attempted to use the slur in my prompt response in the same manner it was used by the person who offended me with it.

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“Is that honestly what you think of me?”

“What would make you say that?” Ryan replied.

“You made fun of them to your friends and called them faggots,” I answered in an angry tone.

“So? You’re not as much of a flamer as they are. Don’t get your panties in a bunch over it.”

Ryan’s demeanor made it obvious he was annoyed I was making his insult at the party an issue. We pretended to be best friends in public and he regularly chastised me if I seemed in the slightest bit gay in front of his friends.

“I promise I don’t think of you that way. Can we just forget I said it and move on?”

“A gay couple kissing at a party shouldn’t be any different than a straight couple. Fuck, you’re gay, and you don’t accept them because you still want to live in the closet. They don’t seem manly enough to you, so they deserve to be called faggots?”

My stomach began to burn, and I felt my body shake as I stood there staring at the man I’d been dating far too long.

“This is hard for me Jack. I’m not ready to come out,” Ryan said quietly, opening the door and walking out of my apartment.

I ran to the door, tears filling my eyes and yelled after him, “Fine, walk out of my life, you fucking coward. You’re thirty-four years old damn it! Start acting like it!”