Allison - RISK!: true stories people never thought theyd dare to share

You have a story youve never dared to share.

Maybe its about that bewildering night you lost your virginity. Or the fistfight you hate to admit that you started. Or the week your dad died and you learned a creepy secret.

Maybe you have told a version of this story beforeto your therapist or your spouse. But you cleaned it up a bit. You left one stone unturned. It could be you were tempted to spill the whole messy truth to your closest friend one night over drinks, but that scolding voice in your head said, Hey now. Some things are better left unsaid.

But what if I told you theres an extraordinary place where youd be celebrated for biting the bullet and sharing the whole damn truththe good, the bad, and especially the ugly of itwith the world?

Hello kids, this is RISK! Thats exactly what were about.

If youre one of the millions of people who have heard the RISK! podcast or attended one of our live shows, you already know the motto weve lived by for more than eight years and 350 episodes. RISK! is the show where people tell true stories they never thought theyd dare to share. We say that on RISK!, nothing is inappropriate until something justis. But then we talk about it anyway! Because unlike other storytelling shows, RISK! doesnt censor our contributors stories to suit the standards of family-friendly radio. Nothing is too emotional, too graphic, too strange.

I have collected in this book some of my favorite stories of unforgettable life experiences courageously shared on the podcast, as well as extraordinary new stories that have never been told anywhere. What ties them together is how surprising, gripping, and nakedly honest they all are. I tell people that RISK! is soul food, served spicy. Prepare for stories that will make you laugh and cryand that may keep you up at night.

Our live show happens once a month in New York and LA, but I also take the show on the road. After each event, people line up to give the storytellers and me a hug and share something. A college kid in St. Louis had tears streaming down his face when he told me the podcast saved his life. A man once emailed to say getting his stepson to listen to a RISK! story helped the two of them to finally relate to each another and moved the boy to get help for his drug problem. A college student emailed to say the show helped her come to terms with her rape. After listening to RISK!, she knew how to get help. At a show in Austin, an older married couple told me theyd been on the verge of divorce, but then came out to each other as kinky after hearing an X-rated story on RISK!, and it saved their marriage.

These amazing shifts that happen to peoplethese transformationsare just as powerful on the page as on the podcast. Theyre what happens when we see true courage in action and are inspired to take a risk ourselves. All the brave storytellers in this collection bare not only their souls but also some of their darkest secrets.

I can attest to how unfiltered honesty saves lives. It saved mine.

Picture this. At five years old, I began to be terrified of myself.

I was a bucktoothed redhead, usually bouncing off the walls, as my mom said. It was the messy mid-seventies, and we were as Catholic as they come in an oh-so-Republican part of Ohio. At that age, Id never heard of having a crush on someone. But I realized that I felt something for Sammy Buchanan. He was born the same day I was, lived a few houses down, and we were the best of friends. Sammy had sandy hair, a sunny smile, and an amazing toy collection. One rainy afternoon, listening to the cartoon mice chirping on the Disney Cinderella LP, I blurted out, Sammy! Wouldnt it be funny if we took off all our clothes?!

I was rightit was hilarious! We ripped off our clothes and laughed up a storm. Romping around, some part of my little brain knew exactly why Id made the suggestionthat for me this was more than just humorous. Suddenly, Sammys eyes were wide as quarters and he said, Whats that?!

He was pointing at my penis. I looked down and my jaw dropped. It was doing something both of us found bewilderingit had turned stiff and was pointing toward the ceiling. I instinctively knew this was an outward sign that I found this boy-and-boy nakedness exciting.

Sammy laughed it off, but I couldnt. I remembered something his older brother, Rick, had told the two of us just days earlier. When people say gay or fag, hed said, they mean a boy who likes other boys the way that a boy is supposed to like girls. Thats why it also means disgusting and lame. I felt hot and cold with fear. In one year, I have to go to kindergarten, I thought. Im going to meet so many kids. What if one of them finds out Im a gay fag?

Most gay kids arent self-aware so soon, but I was a precocious (and horny) little guy. Because I forced myself not to be honest with anyone around me, a black cloud of anxiety hung over my head everywhere I went throughout my childhood. I was obsessed with keeping my sexuality hidden.

But by my teens, I got gutsy, fascinated by the idea of coming out. A little over a decade after the Sammy Buchanan incident, I finally mustered the courage to share about my sexuality with friends and family members, one by one. I felt a gush of relief and affirmation each time. Those relationships only deepened from my sharing the truth. Ive spent my whole life learning the essential lesson that each of the writers in this collection live out.

But it wasnt just my sexuality that was different. Family members told me I was too expressive. Friends told me my sense of humor was too strange. Teachers told me my voice was too big. I felt like a freak most of the time. For a few years after college, I was lucky enough to be in a sketch comedy group called The State with a series on MTV, where it was okay to be too much this or too much that. But when I changed my focus to doing solo character monologues after The State broke up in 96, I was drowning in self-consciousness about what Hollywood casting directors might think of me. I did all I could to avoid seeming too loud and gay, too Midwestern and polite, too goofy and surreal, or too serious and spiritual. In an effort to not be too much of anything, I had let myself become nothing. No one would hire me. I was a wreck, and I was starving.