David Archuleta Is Finally Living In The Moment

For any other pop star in 2025, singing a flirty earworm about driving boys crazy while swanning around with dreamy backup dancers would be unremarkable. But for David Archuleta, comfort in his own skin — the kind on display in the sweetly sensual video for his song “Crème Brulée” — has been decidedly hard won. The singer, who rose to fame as a teenager on American Idol in 2008, grew up Mormon in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and spent years struggling with his sexuality — until he came out publicly as a member of the LGBTQ+ community in a 2021 Instagram post and announced the following year that he had left the church.

He’s been documenting the journey in his music ever since. Archuleta, now 34, wrote the sobering anthem “Hell Together” after his mother told him she was leaving the church as well because she didn’t want to be “somewhere where my children don’t feel welcomed, loved, and accepted.” But there’s so much more to the coming-out process than announcing your truth to the world — and, as Archuleta shares in his own words below, plenty of steps in between self-acceptance and self-love. “I had made myself smaller because I was so afraid that people were going to see me for who I was,” Archuleta says. “Now, I get to express myself freely and fully without reservations.”

I recently saw a meme that said gay people in their 30s live like they’re teenagers because for their whole lives, they were living as someone else. I laughed in recognition — I knew exactly what that meant. Your 30s are the first time you live for you, especially if you came out later in life like I did. I was so serious in my teenage years and early 20s. I’d always worked extra hard to be good, to be responsible, to be there for my family and live my faith fully. Living in the moment just wasn’t something I knew how to do. I put so much energy into distracting myself from the fact that I was queer that I ended up depriving myself of many pleasures in life. To loosen up and let my guard down meant my romantic inclination toward guys might slip out. So I just dimmed myself.

Now, I really do feel like a kid again. But learning how to not be afraid of yourself is a process. You really have to rewire your brain. I’m grateful for the friends who went down that path before me and are passing along not only information but also words of compassion. They’re teaching me a new way to talk to myself. I have two friends named Kevin who live on opposite sides of the country. Kevin out in California was one of the only gay friends I knew before I came out. And then there’s Kevin in Tennessee — one of my best friends introduced me to him because he also grew up gay and Mormon. Now I get to ask both of them: So what’s it like to date a guy? What’s it like to be intimate? How do you get over feeling guilty? And HIV/AIDS — aren’t you afraid of getting that? And how do you navigate being in a room with a bunch of men? Because it seems like a hornyfest! I felt intimidated because I didn’t know anything.

You have to understand, I grew up hearing all these religious stories: “God hates gay sex so much, that’s why he created the AIDS epidemic.” But I learned about precautions, about medication, about PrEP. I had been told gay people can’t have long-lasting relationships because they’re not based in love. But here I was meeting people who were in decades-long relationships — is that not love? My publicist has been with his husband for over 30 years. I didn’t even know that was possible!

“What I love about identifying as queer is that there’s no one exact mold you have to fit.”

Dating has never been super easy for me — before coming out, after coming out. But now, for the first time, I’m getting in touch with what I want. What do I find attractive? What causes chemistry? It’s fun to get to know people. It’s fun to kiss people and go on a hike or go for lunch. I didn’t know I could be as flirty as I am sometimes. Other times, I’m very shy. It’s like a different person depending on whom I’m with, which is why I like dating: After a lifetime of suppressing myself, getting to know a variety of people helps me get to know which version of myself I like the most.

Everyone has a slightly different idea of what they want out of human connection. Sometimes people don’t want anything too deep when I want a little more. And sometimes people want something more from me and are all in — that’s what I wrote “Crème Brulée” about. I don’t think I could have put that out even a few years ago — hell no! I was still in my conservative mindset: I need to be modest. I can’t show too much skin. I can’t be inappropriate by Mormon standards.

But I’ve learned that it’s OK to play, to feel yourself a little bit. I picked that up from dancing and from being around dancers. They have to be in touch with their body to move the way they do and tell a story through performance. I don’t move like they do, but by getting in touch with my body, I’ve become much more confident. It feels good to let out that energy, and I hope other people get to feel that and take some of it with them.

“There will be people who just may not understand your life, and that doesn’t mean your life can’t be a beautiful thing.”

I’ve really come to enjoy queer spaces like bars and clubs as well. I used to love church dances when I was younger, and now when I go out, I’m like, “Oh my gosh, this is basically the same thing as a church dance, just with alcohol and making out.” I love raves and music festivals, too. Any place, really, where you’re not worried about conforming to societal expectations. When you go out to a club, you dress cute. You dress to be seen — which is nice after spending so much of your life hiding. I would like to see more overall queer spaces rather than spaces that are just dominated by gay men. There are some really fun parties called Gorgeous Gorgeous in New York and in L.A. that are meant to be more inclusive of nonbinary and trans people. It’s easy for me to fit into the gay-guy scene, but I like to be in places where everybody can be celebrated for being queer — because what I love about identifying as queer is that there’s no one exact mold you have to fit.

Sometimes I wish I could show my younger self a snapshot of where I am, but I don’t think Young David could understand the concept of queer joy. He certainly could not handle the “Crème Brulée” video! I’m working on a book that basically answers the questions for him: Why did I come out? How did I find the strength when I was such a good Mormon boy who was willing to give my life for this religion? People have a hard time with stories that seem black and white — from in the closet to out of the closet — and I think I owe him a longer explanation.

I’ve also made peace with the fact that there will be people who just may not understand your life, and that doesn’t mean your life can’t be a beautiful thing. Before, I was waking up each day and dreading the fact that I was still who I was. What I love more than anything about today — what I love more than anything about myself — is that I’m not afraid to live anymore.

As told to Nolan Feeney.