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Love at Rock Bottom

I started to recognize my bisexuality during college.

It wasn’t a revelation that brought clarity; instead…it came with anxiety, fear, and a tangle of questions I wasn’t ready to face.

Playing college football—and later, joining the National Football League—meant stepping into spaces where the dominant perception was one of a masculinity narrowly defined.

My attraction to men didn’t seem to fit anywhere in that picture, and that fear—of being seen as less than or somehow other—kept me from living my truth.

Then, unexpectedly, love found its way into my life. I met Corey on a dating app at a time when love was the last thing I was looking for. I was in one of the darkest periods of my life, injured and unsure about my future. But Corey reached out with a warmth and humor that disarmed me.

We started chatting online, then shifted over to Instagram, exchanging glimpses of ourselves behind the scenes.

Eventually, we decided to meet in person for coffee, even though I’d never been much of a coffee drinker. When he smiled at me across the table, something clicked. Corey didn’t care about football or what I did for a living; he saw me, the person behind the pads and jersey. We connected deeply on so many levels, discovering common ground in the quiet moments between words.

With Corey by my side, I began to see the weight I’d been carrying and how much of my own identity I’d hidden away. His openness, his unyielding support, and the way he accepted me without question encouraged me to finally let go of the fear that had been holding me back.

In 2019, I took a step that once seemed unimaginable: I came out publicly. It was Corey’s presence that helped me believe in the strength of love over fear.

For Corey, watching me come out was a dream unfolding. He’d come out at a young age, finding acceptance in the dance world, and he hoped I would experience the same freedom. With Corey by my side, I found the courage to share my truth and, for the first time, love myself in a way I’d never known.

In the end, Corey was more than a partner; he was a mirror, reflecting back the parts of me I’d buried in order to survive. And in those quiet moments—when the cheers faded, the stadium lights dimmed, and the armor came off—he was the love that stayed, reminding me of who I was and, ultimately, who I wanted to become.

Love That Stays

You know me in ways the world cannot,
beneath the armor, behind the cheers,
through lights that dazzle, and nights that drown—
you are the one who waits when the world forgets.

They see strength cast in iron and fame writ bold,
but not the quiet unraveling, the slow ache beneath.
I walk off the field bearing more than they know,
and in silence, you hold what I can’t speak.

I find you there, steady through each fracture,
the hands that mend, the eyes that see—
not just the warrior the world exalts
but the man who breaks beneath.

Every tackle leaves its mark, every win its weight;
they cheer for the armor, but you hold the scars,
the pieces I leave on fields that no one can see,
and you, my refuge from the battles I carry home.

So when I search for you in the still of night,
I find the one who remembers who I am, whole—
the keeper of what the world leaves behind,
the love that stays, when all else fades.