During my 12 year marriage, my wife often tried to get me to admit I was gay. I could not understand what she was picking up on, but I denied it every time–to her and to myself. I still struggle with the label, but it’s hard not to logically conclude that I am gay when I compare my thoughts and experiences with other who have concluded they are as well.
One common sign is that of being awkward or unmanly. I was, and still am, terrible at sports. I can’t understand why people follow teams or can stand watching games on television. I have no competitive streak. Winning over others makes me feel conflicted. Part of me rejoices because it’s so rare, but most of me feels guilty over not letting others experience success. I was a sensitive child. My favorite toys were stuffed animals and one of my favorite past times was cooking with my mother.
Another is, guy crushes while growing up. My first crushes were when I was around five years old. Those crushes were innocent, of course, but from those days to this, blond haired boys still turn my head. Into my teens, I felt a different kind of attraction. I had various crushes on guys in school and at church. Some of these came with very explicit, embarrassing dreams.
Gay guys say they had no interest in dating. I never had a girlfriend until I met my wife and I was 30 when we married–she was 10 years younger. I’ve only kissed two other girls. In both cases, it felt like I was doing it just to do it.
Finally, same-sex attractions are persistent. Throughout decades of life and years of marriage, my homosexual inclinations have not lessened. If I see an attractive guy and attractive girl walking together, my eyes are automatically drawn to the guy. Embarrassingly, this is also true of any pornography I’ve seen. I do find women attractive, but what draws me to them is mainly their eyes and their faces. It’s rare that I see a woman’s body and think, “Wow!” When I see an attractive male body, though, my whole torso feels like it’s burning.
Where did this come from? I have no idea. It hasn’t ever been fun, but I’m old enough now to call a spade a spade.