This is going to sound as though somehow I'm trying to rain on your parade, and I'm not, but I can't seem to find a way of putting it that doesn't feel... well, I'm running on two hours' sleep and way too much pain relief, so perhaps I'm not thinking totally coherently.
I've run out of things to come out about. I've run out of people to whom I can be bothered to come out. It's no longer fun. If there's a reaction I haven't experienced to coming out - well, I suppose I haven't been killed for it, but that's about it.
Coming out is about dispelling the power of the Secret, and I don't have any Secrets any more. Anyone can ask anything about me, and they'll get either the plain unvarnished or "That's none of your business" - which would also be the plain unvarnished. I keep other people's Secrets, if they ask me to, but I've lost any inclination, and can't waste the energy, to give a rat's arse if person x knows y about me. I think. At least if I do have any Secrets, I'm not able to bring them to mind.
Perhaps I'm just jaded. I have been there, seen or done it, and got the T-shirt. Sure, there are things I should like to do, people I should like to meet, places I should like to visit, but I could die content without having done so. My purity score leveled out years ago - yes, there are some things I choose to not do. I've been out for so fucking long that a Coming Out Day is like Yet Another Birthday, or Yet Another Christmas: another tick of the clock, nothing more.
Happy Coming Out Day, everyone. Truly. Enjoy it, and many more to you.