Well, there ya go.....it was out. At that very moment I felt both liberated and scared at the same time. I braced myself for the impending onslaught of screaming and god-knows-what-else, but it did not come, which rattled me just a little. At that moment I felt a mix of shame and pride; shame at admitting that I was something I had always been conditioned to believe was wrong and pride at being able to admit the very same thing.
The next day was Sunday and we did not go to church. We had talked until 5:00 in the morning and were exhausted, as you might imagine.
The next week was probably the worst week of my life. To add to what had just happened the past weekend, which I was not sure at that time was a good thing or not, we got a phone call Monday morning that my mother-in-law had been diagnosed with malignant breast cancer. I knew something was terribly wrong when my ex-wife was talking to someone on the phone, but I had no idea how bad it was until she hung up and basically collapsed. In spite of the fact that my then ex-wife and I were in the middle of what was the end of our marriage I still loved my mother-in-law and was sick at hearing the news.
The following week consisted of a series of conversations consisting of her questions and my vague answers; where did you meet, how long have you known him, what does he mean to you and so on. I, of course, was not going to go into detail. What purpose would it serve to give her any details? Why should I give her answers to questions that would only hurt her? Further more, with the added stress of the news of her mother's cancer, I did not want to give her any more reason to be upset beyond what I already had.
JUST when I thought things could NOT get any worse, they did. The company I was working for as on the verge of closing because of a shift in the financial markets and I had been laid off. The separation was amicable and civilized enough, however the fact remains it still happened. I was given a more than fair severance, thanked for my hard work and shown the door. How nice. At the time I though "My god! Even Job eventually got a break! What the hell is going on here??” and thought surely I was heading for a disaster of major proportions, if I was not already there. I was on the verge of suicide a few short months earlier and was afraid that I was approaching that place in my mind again.
The next thirty days turned out to probably be the most significant of my life. During the month of May in 2002 my ex-wife and I talked about a number of things, as I mentioned earlier. All of the discussions got very heated and were painful for both of us, but each for different reasons. It was during this time I began to detach myself from her in my mind as a person to whom I had been married for almost twenty years and see her simply as a person I knew who happened to be the mother of my children. My dad had had once described himself as a "reformed smoker", that is, a person who was once an unapologetic smoker who did not care on whose toes he stepped when he wanted to smoke. He went from being that person to being a someone who could not imagine smoking and was disgusted by it. I was now that person, to some extent, when it came to my life as a straight man in a relationship with a woman. The thought of being with a woman sexually was immediately repulsive to me and I had begun blocking out any memory of having sex with her. If a memory pops up now it seems like a clip from a movie....a scene played out by two unknown actors. I do not see myself doing that. Even the implication by my partner that I must harbour some desire to have sex with a woman simply because I was married for so long makes me angry. I truly do not give a damn what anyone thinks about my sexual orientation simply because I was once married. I know what I want and what I don't. The bottom line is I never liked saving sex with a woman and was able to do it only if I could think of men when I did. This revaluation probably makes me seem like a person who was using my ex-wife as a cover, but the truth is that was never the case. I'm not trying to convince anyone that I loved her the way a straight man should love his wife. I would never try to convince myself of that. I am saying I was doing what I thought I was supposed to do; what "normal" guys did. That is marry and have kids. I always knew I wanted children so I couldn't be gay...right? There had never been any doubt in my mind that I was attracted to men sexually, however I thought it was a flaw in my makeup and I simply needed to press forward and "fix" myself so I would be normal.
Even before I knew what sex was I knew I looked at men and wanted to be near them; to find an excuse to touch them; to be close enough to smell them and to want them to want to be near me, too. This disire was in me from the time I was around six or seven years old. My mom's partner (yes, she's a lesbian and we'll get to that later on) had a cousin named Steve who was drop-dead gorgeous and had a most perfect body. He was built on the thinner side, had a hairy chest, a cute face and that perfect "70s" hair all thick and feathered back. I had a crush on him from the first time I met him and I was no older than eight years old. When I was around ten or eleven he came to live with us for a while (My mom divorced my dad and we moved in with her partner who also divorced her husband for my mom) when he came out to his parents. This was in was the early '70s and newly out gays were often rejected by their families and even thrown out of the house. I realize it still happens, however it was worse back then. In any case, he lived with us for a few months and I followed him around like a puppy dog. One night he had taken a shower before bed and came into the kitchen wearing just some underwear that was basically just a very loosely knit mesh bikini with a patch in the front to cover the genitals. The sides and back were totally mesh (imagine a very lose crochet). When I saw him walk into the kitchen my heart raced and I looked at his hairy chest, followed the trail down his stomach and disappear into his underwear which had a thick patch of hair coming out of the top and sides. Not knowing what I was doing or why I continued to stare I could feel lightening shoot from my chest down to my crotch. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to reach out and rub my fingers thought his hairy chest down to his underwear where I would stick my hands in and play with his balls and cock. This feeling came naturally to me, however I would have never admitted it to anyone if they had asked. I saw him one other time when he was getting dressed and he did not have any underwear on. I couldn't do anything but stare at his cock and balls and I wanted nothing more than to walk over and touch it. Again, that familiar feeling came over me and I felt like lightening had shot from my chest down into my crotch. I had heard guys talk about how their balls felt when they saw a pictures of naked women and this feeling was exactly like that, so I knew something was severely wrong with me and I was scared. I did not want to go to hell and was convinced that I was heading there because of the way I was feeling. This was the beginning of an underlying stress that I would carry with me for the next thirty years.
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Sunday, June 10, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
And here we go
After I had run to the kitchen and cleared the caller I.D. I stood in a small entry hall between the den and the master bedroom wondering what to do, as if there was something to be done. I just stood there, dumb-founded, ice running through my veins and adrenaline pumping into my stomach. I looked across the room to see her coming out of the hall that lead to the side of the house where the kids' rooms were. She silently sat down in a rocker-recliner where we had, only a few short years ago, rocked my daughter and son to sleep when they were babies. She looked up at me as she crossed her arms and leaned back into the chair calmly asking “Are you in love with him?” I think my heart literally stopped for a split second and I could not breath. The first thing that went through my mind was “Why am I scared? This is what I want. Why am I afraid to answer?”.
I can tell you why I was afraid to answer. The fact that she asked the question let me know she had suspected for quite a while something was going on between him and me and that shocked me into a momentary silence. It could be said that I should have had some balls and just blurt out the truth, however I was certain at the time that if I were to honestly answer her right then and there her very next breath would be taken 120 miles away at her parents' house and, of course, my son and daughter would be with her. In the three or four seconds it took for me to reply I envisioned a life separated from my son and daughter and not being able to see them very often, the wrath of my father-in-law (although, that was not, in and of itself a deterrent, but just just "one more thing" to deal with), the possibility of doing irreparable damage to my relationship with my dad and step-mother; the incredible pain it would cause my children being torn away from me (and me from them) with their immediate move back to our hometown and just the general fear of being "labeled" something that has always been portrayed as negative. In spite of being sexually active with other men since the age of 14 I was afraid of being labeled "gay" (Ridiculous, I know, and proof I had so much to learn about myself and life in general). I was not, after all, a screaming queen; I was not effeminate in any way; I had spent five successful years in the Army and always had girls flirting with me. All that being said, I knew the time had arrived to finally speak the words out loud.
After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably only three to four seconds, I just looked at her and said "I don't know". The truth of the matter was I did know. I was in love with a man and this was the coming to a head of 30 years of denying who I was. It was the moment when I was being reborn as the person I truly was meant to be. I am quite sure we experience pain and sensory overload as we come into this world. Nature, I also believe, has seen to it that we don't remember any of it in order to protect us. I would not, however, have that protection during this birth and would fully experience and remember all the pain and sensory overload that was coming my way; and god knows it was now well on the way. She was now faced for the first time in her life, as far as I knew, with the possible loss of control of those around her and her ability to get what she wanted. Being married to her for the last 19 years and knowing her for a total of 24 years I knew this was going to be scary for anyone within her blast radius.
The second I spoke those words I knew my life was going to change, however I did not know at that point to what extent. She did not say much at first, but just tightened her lips and looked at me. Her reaction, or actually, lack of one, rattled me. I fully expected some sort of immediate "freak out" on her part, however the way she responded let me know two things: 1) maybe she was capable of keeping her composure and having an adult conversation about something which she had no control and 2) her not going ballistic gave me the impression that she already knew, or at least strongly suspected, and it was almost a relief. The first thing made me a little proud of her and the second made me feel sorry for her.
I can tell you why I was afraid to answer. The fact that she asked the question let me know she had suspected for quite a while something was going on between him and me and that shocked me into a momentary silence. It could be said that I should have had some balls and just blurt out the truth, however I was certain at the time that if I were to honestly answer her right then and there her very next breath would be taken 120 miles away at her parents' house and, of course, my son and daughter would be with her. In the three or four seconds it took for me to reply I envisioned a life separated from my son and daughter and not being able to see them very often, the wrath of my father-in-law (although, that was not, in and of itself a deterrent, but just just "one more thing" to deal with), the possibility of doing irreparable damage to my relationship with my dad and step-mother; the incredible pain it would cause my children being torn away from me (and me from them) with their immediate move back to our hometown and just the general fear of being "labeled" something that has always been portrayed as negative. In spite of being sexually active with other men since the age of 14 I was afraid of being labeled "gay" (Ridiculous, I know, and proof I had so much to learn about myself and life in general). I was not, after all, a screaming queen; I was not effeminate in any way; I had spent five successful years in the Army and always had girls flirting with me. All that being said, I knew the time had arrived to finally speak the words out loud.
After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably only three to four seconds, I just looked at her and said "I don't know". The truth of the matter was I did know. I was in love with a man and this was the coming to a head of 30 years of denying who I was. It was the moment when I was being reborn as the person I truly was meant to be. I am quite sure we experience pain and sensory overload as we come into this world. Nature, I also believe, has seen to it that we don't remember any of it in order to protect us. I would not, however, have that protection during this birth and would fully experience and remember all the pain and sensory overload that was coming my way; and god knows it was now well on the way. She was now faced for the first time in her life, as far as I knew, with the possible loss of control of those around her and her ability to get what she wanted. Being married to her for the last 19 years and knowing her for a total of 24 years I knew this was going to be scary for anyone within her blast radius.
The second I spoke those words I knew my life was going to change, however I did not know at that point to what extent. She did not say much at first, but just tightened her lips and looked at me. Her reaction, or actually, lack of one, rattled me. I fully expected some sort of immediate "freak out" on her part, however the way she responded let me know two things: 1) maybe she was capable of keeping her composure and having an adult conversation about something which she had no control and 2) her not going ballistic gave me the impression that she already knew, or at least strongly suspected, and it was almost a relief. The first thing made me a little proud of her and the second made me feel sorry for her.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Starting At The End And Working Backward
Since we're discussing a coming out experience I think it would make sense to start at the point of coming out and then go backward to figure out how I finally got there. I am sure what is going to be told will make me look like a cad, at best, but as I said earlier, there will be some soul-baring and it will be uncomfortable.
An accidental phone call was the catalyst for my coming out. At least it was explained to me as being as an accident. I think it was more passive-aggressive on both of our parts, but it does not matter at this point. I was still married and it was about six weeks after my nineteenth anniversary. I was, ironically (or appropriately), in one of our walk-in closets in the master bath talking on the phone with a guy I had been seeing for almost a year. In any case we got disconnected somehow and he called me back on my home number from where I called him. My wife at the time was putting the kids to bed and the phone rang with his number coming up on three caller I.D.s....nice. I ran around the house trying to clear them before she could see who called. This was to be a futile effort since my daughter, who was seven at the time and decided she was a big girl, had a phone and caller I.D. box in her room.
Now, one might think it would be no big deal to have a "friend" calling at 9:00 or 10:00 at night, but there was already some history there. A couple of months prior I was working in the yard when I looked up to see my wife marching down the driveway with some cell phone bills in one hand and a yellow highlighter in the other and I could tell she was moving with a purpose! I immediately knew what the subject of the conversation was going to be and started to panic. She shoved the cell phone bills in my face and wanted to know why I was calling this guy so much, especially on Christmas day. My only response was to tell her that we were just friends and I was telling him Merry Christmas as I would any friend. I could tell that did not satisfy her, but in a conversation like that, what would?
So now I had this phone call to deal with and I knew it was going to be trouble...or a resolution, I was not sure which at that moment. One thing I did know was that I was about to come clean about being gay.
An accidental phone call was the catalyst for my coming out. At least it was explained to me as being as an accident. I think it was more passive-aggressive on both of our parts, but it does not matter at this point. I was still married and it was about six weeks after my nineteenth anniversary. I was, ironically (or appropriately), in one of our walk-in closets in the master bath talking on the phone with a guy I had been seeing for almost a year. In any case we got disconnected somehow and he called me back on my home number from where I called him. My wife at the time was putting the kids to bed and the phone rang with his number coming up on three caller I.D.s....nice. I ran around the house trying to clear them before she could see who called. This was to be a futile effort since my daughter, who was seven at the time and decided she was a big girl, had a phone and caller I.D. box in her room.
Now, one might think it would be no big deal to have a "friend" calling at 9:00 or 10:00 at night, but there was already some history there. A couple of months prior I was working in the yard when I looked up to see my wife marching down the driveway with some cell phone bills in one hand and a yellow highlighter in the other and I could tell she was moving with a purpose! I immediately knew what the subject of the conversation was going to be and started to panic. She shoved the cell phone bills in my face and wanted to know why I was calling this guy so much, especially on Christmas day. My only response was to tell her that we were just friends and I was telling him Merry Christmas as I would any friend. I could tell that did not satisfy her, but in a conversation like that, what would?
So now I had this phone call to deal with and I knew it was going to be trouble...or a resolution, I was not sure which at that moment. One thing I did know was that I was about to come clean about being gay.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
A Little Background As We Get Started...
Before we get started and I begin dumping my guts I want to say that I am going to be purposefully vague with some details. Do not mistake this as my being afraid that someone will find out who I am, because I am totally out, but I am simply protecting those who were, and may still be, innocently involved in my life. It is not important for anyone to know who my children are, who my parents are and who my friends are. What I think is important is what I went through, how I dealt with it and how I survived to be who I am now. I do not mean to sound overly dramatic when I say "survived", but there was more than one occasion when I had contemplated suicide and one particular time when I had specifically planned it. We'll address that later on.
As the title of my blog implies, I came out (or rather, was blasted out...but we'll get to that soon enough) less than a week after I turned 38 in May 2002. At the time I had been married 19 years by just a few weeks and had, by all accounts, a perfect marriage. I have two wonderful children, we had a nice house and two nice cars in the garage. My wife stayed at home with the kids and I had a great job.
The truth of the matter is I was completely and totally miserable inside. I don't even know if miserable would accurately describe my mindset at that time. I was moving through life feeling as if a black mass had totally engulfed me and I could not conciously put my finger on the reason why. I was always on edge, seldom happy, had the sensation that I could not clear my head and had trouble concentrating. Deep down in my subconscious, however, I knew exactly what the problem was and had no idea how to deal with it.
Does any of this sound familiar? I would imagine it does if you're still reading this. I intend to share every aspect of my coming out experience so others who are struggling with their sexuality, seriously contemplating coming out or just came out know that others before them have gone through something as intense as they are experiencing and made it through intact.
As the title of my blog implies, I came out (or rather, was blasted out...but we'll get to that soon enough) less than a week after I turned 38 in May 2002. At the time I had been married 19 years by just a few weeks and had, by all accounts, a perfect marriage. I have two wonderful children, we had a nice house and two nice cars in the garage. My wife stayed at home with the kids and I had a great job.
The truth of the matter is I was completely and totally miserable inside. I don't even know if miserable would accurately describe my mindset at that time. I was moving through life feeling as if a black mass had totally engulfed me and I could not conciously put my finger on the reason why. I was always on edge, seldom happy, had the sensation that I could not clear my head and had trouble concentrating. Deep down in my subconscious, however, I knew exactly what the problem was and had no idea how to deal with it.
Does any of this sound familiar? I would imagine it does if you're still reading this. I intend to share every aspect of my coming out experience so others who are struggling with their sexuality, seriously contemplating coming out or just came out know that others before them have gone through something as intense as they are experiencing and made it through intact.
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