I’ve always Known…
As a man that is emotionally, romantically and sexually attracted to women, I have lived my life enjoying the privilege of heteronormativity. As I have previously mentioned, I have a wife and children that I love with all of my heart, and all of the trappings of a “normal” life. I couldn’t be happier, and If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change a thing. But the truth is, I am also sexually attracted to men and that attraction is very, very strong.
I grew up in a very religious household. I was taught from an early age that God hated sin and among many other things, being gay was a sin, an abomination in fact. In addition to that, there was also the social stigma associated with being gay. It's gotten much better over the years but back when I was an impressionable kid, even the word "gay" was used as an insult by other kids and adults (it still is, I know, but it was way worse back then). In the 70's and 80's, if you were gay, you were an outcast…at least that's how it appeared to me.
They say that hindsight is 20/20 and looking back at my coming-of-age story, a few things stand out to me. I always knew that I liked girls. There was never any question about that, so clearly, I was normal and straight...right? Well, not so fast, I also remember an experience that happened in 1984 that now I am fairly certain was my very first same sex attraction, although I didn't realize what it was at the time. It wasn't some big "ah-hah" moment or anything like that. I actually don’t even remember his name, I was in 8th grade, and he was a year younger than me. All I remember is seeing him one day and thinking, "Wow, he's a really good looking guy. I wonder what he would look like if he dressed a little better and took some pride in his appearance." By itself, none of that says anything about my sexuality. Noticing that someone is attractive, regardless of their gender, literally means nothing, however, taking the time to mentally give him a makeover AND then, taking the time to imagine what he would look like post makeover is another matter entirely…especially for a guy like me, and at that time in my life.
Let me explain. In 8th grade, I never gave a shit about how I or anyone else for that matter, dressed. It was a nonissue. I was playing football, racing my ATV around in the woods near my house and otherwise doing normal kid shit. I couldn't care less about clothes or any of that stuff. Actually, that's not entirely accurate, I was totally oblivious to it. I remember that because the very first time I actually paid attention to anything fashion related was in 1985 when the first Air Jordan's came out. In 1984 I had never heard the term "bisexual". As far I knew, people were either straight or gay and that was it. I knew that I liked girls so obviously, that weird experience with Mr. Makeover Candidate was some sort of anomaly. It didn’t even register to me as a potential indicator of something more.
Fast forward a couple of years or so and I somehow started receiving the International Male catalog in the mail. For those of you that are not familiar, it was a men's clothing mail order catalog. For comparison, straight guys had the Victoria’s Secret catalog to drool over and gay guys had International Male. Over half of the company's employees were gay, so you can imagine the images that filled this catalog. It was a homoerotic masterpiece. I have no idea how they got my name and address, I was a freshman in high school and my hormones were raging to say the least.
Keep in mind, this catalog came in the mail. My parents would take the mail from the mailbox and separate out whatever came in for me and my brother, which as very limited tbh. Most times the International Male catalog was the only piece of mail that I received. My point is, this was never a secret or something that was hidden from my parents. They viewed it as just another mail order catalog. I on the other hand treated them like they were porn and quickly stashed them with my meager collection of Playboy, Hustler and Penthouse magazines. Looking back on that, it's kind of funny. Nothing about that was heterosexual male behavior. The only explanation I have is that I had an huge capacity for denial and the incredible ability to remain willfully ignorant.
Eventually I had no choice but to acknowledge that I was, at the very least, curious about guys sexually. I remember getting aroused by certain guys and not knowing how to process those feelings. Keep in mind, I didn't know that bisexuality was even a thing. I liked girls, so obviously this must be some weird kink or perversion that I was falling victim to. I decided to just ignore the feelings, believing they would just go away. That worked for a little while…at least until something/someone triggered me and the urges would resurface. At some point, I don't remember exactly when, I got my hands on a gay porn magazine and HOLY SHIT! That was a game changer for me. I could no longer plausibly deny that I was sexually attracted to guys and as a result, I also was convinced that God hated me and that I desperately needed forgiveness for my sins. I spiraled for a while going back and forth between feelings of excitement, guilt, desire, fear, disgust and yes, arousal. I was a fucking mess of emotions.
I had no one to talk to. I couldn’t talk to any of my friends. At that age, when it comes to compassion or empathy, kids suck. Adults (particularly at that time) were not much better either and my circle of potential adult confidants was nonexistent. Most of the adults that I knew were just as religious as my parents and that would have been a shit show. I'm pretty sure I would have ended up in some form of conversion therapy of some crazy shit like that. There was no internet to safely and anonymously do research or find other like-minded people to talk to. I was alone. I had to figure this shit out on my own.
At some point I started masturbating to the pictures of these guys. I couldn’t fight it anymore, so I would furiously pull my cock so I would cum fast and get it over with as quickly as possible. It was my dark little secret. I wasn't proud of it. I would feel tremendous guilt afterwards and I would often cry about it and pray for God to take this "sickness" away from me. I would even promise myself that "this is the last time", but eventually I would be right back at it and the cycle of self-hate and guilt would start all over again. It was miserable but manageable because after all, I still liked girls. I didn’t need to confront this because I was able to safely hide behind my heterosexual side. This went on for decades.
By about 16 or 17, I started to meet some openly gay young men. I worked in the restaurant business and many of the male servers were gay. I had tons of questions and found myself gravitating towards them. Not for sex, I needed someone to talk to. I'm sure many of them thought I was hitting on them but I was a minor and these guys were in their mid-20s. I never led them on. I tried to play my curiosity off as nothing more than being nice but I'm sure they saw right through that weak shit. I would also sometimes sneak out at night and go into NYC . This was before Times Square was "cleaned up". I would go to peep shows and porn video arcades with friends and in the relative safety of my private booth, I would sometimes change the channel to watch the gay porn with the volume turned all the way down. I was scared shitless but I couldn’t help myself.
Despite all of the evidence that I was not straight, I was remarkably skilled at lying to myself and everyone else in my life about who I really am. I wasn't just pretending to be heterosexual, I was in full blown denial. I was married with kids and still hiding behind my heterosexual side. It wasn't until I was once divorced, remarried (to the love of my life) and in my 40s when I finally admitted to myself and accepted the reality, that I was bisexual, and I cannot describe in words how great it feels to finally be true to who I am.
The next big hurdle to overcome was telling my wife, but that's a story for another time.