The Talk, Part III

We each sat on our sides of the bed. I stared into my lap as the tears continued to silently fall.

"I need to ask you something" she said quietly, "and you have to be honest with me." I looked up at her.

Her face was resolute, touched with fear and...yes. I saw anger there.

We looked into each others eyes. Truth only, Sean. You owe her that. You owe yourself that.

"What...is your primary sexual preference?"

Fuck me.

I looked away, staring at nothing. Honesty.

I turned my head back to her, and I answered...

"To men."

She shook her head as she turned away from me, turning to sit on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. She started to sob, which continued for a couple of minutes until she suddenly stood up and ran to the bathroom. I could hear her vomiting.

After a few minutes she walked back in and sat back down. She wouldn't look at me. "So now what?"

So now what, indeed.

I did not want to break up my family, but I had to be honest with myself and with her, come what may.

She spoke up again. "What do you want?"

"I don't know". Out came the honest answer, immediately. "I don't know what I want."

She looked at me, sad but firm.

"I'm sorry then...but I can't do this."

*****

The above was how I originally was going to write this part out. (None of the above was fiction, by the way.) Perhaps this is my little stab at some melodramatic romance novelization of a very serious personal situation. Yeah, that sounds like me--gay as shit, and making light of something serious at the same time.  Even so, I wish I could continue to write this out like this, but meh... I'm calling bullshit on myself.  Perhaps if I lived in an alternate universe where I had tons of time and cared more about how I write things than how I live them, but alas, I'm stuck here in this one for now.

I'll just super condense it for now, and spit out more details as I can. The bottom line is this:

We remembered who WE were before the bullshit started. We dug down to why it started. I realized that I had actually always been confused by my level of attraction to Karen, since I was usually into guys. Because of that, I quickly sabotaged what we had in my own mind, which of course lead to reality quickly following. That I had been too afraid to really look at my level of attraction to men vs. women in fear of losing her AND being forced to realize I might be gay and not bi.

In the middle of all that honesty, I almost lost her, and it was like a flash, an epiphany went off in my head, in my heart, in my soul....what was I saying? What was I doing? I thought back to the beginning, before the lies, and doubts and walls and the rest of it. About how I felt that connection with her from the moment we met. How that sexual spark WAS there, and it was great, and it was real, despite my general homo attractions. I thought of all this and realized I wanted HER. Could we make it work sexually again? I didn't know, but wasn't it worth trying for?

Basically, I (and we) faced these things down and we reconnected very, very deeply. Actually, I feel like we've connected for the first time ever.

It wasn't all about me. She had her own insecurities that she had to face. Much of it comes from before she knew me, and my hiding things made it worse. She had to decide if she could trust me, could forgive me, and could trust and forgive herself for her part. She had to KNOW that she  is the one I want in every way, not just because we love each other and have kids. And much more...

With all this said, we are all  adults here. We know that sex is the bottom line in regards to this little story. Love isn't enough if we are both really going to be fulfilled.

Well?

We have had sex for the past three nights in a row. That is actually the first time EVER for us. We even woke up in the middle of the night the night before last for another round!

After the talk, it became absolutely electric. We both are like horndoggy teenagers. We can't get enough of each other! No desperation to get me off...just really great, passionate sex.

And I'm not thinking about guys when I'm with her. I was so afraid that I would be...and that's not to say that guys aren't hot anymore. But when I'm with her, I'm WITH her--for the first time ever.

It's hard not to discount or at least question all of this because I've been fucked up over this shit my whole life. Thinking that I might actually have a handle on who I am is very new, and I'm not sure how to just accept it yet. I DO know that I don't expect my male desires to go away. I am a bisexual man, forever and always. In fact we talked about that. She understands that these things are a part of my sexuality and repressing them only makes it worse. Not that I'm to cheat, but my alone time is my alone time, and she knows that will more than likely include male fantasies. I have permission! And now that I do have that...so far anyway...I'm thinking of her. Still confusing...but...I'm going with it.

Will this be happily ever after? I don't know, but I'm extremely hopeful for the first time in my life that it's possible. It certainly feels right, and not forced.

I can't see the future, but I do know what I can see right here, right now.

And right here, right now, for the first time in my life...it's good.

The Ideal Christian Child

I keep thinking about that article.

No definable self. Often too easily influenced by others. Trained to please everyone. Known by many, but not knowable. Forced to play rolls in life.

All quite true, I'm afraid. But the next part is what freaked me out.

"They know the right words to use in marriage; they know how to perform; but they don't know how to deeply love another person."

"Pastor's sons...have not been allowed to exercise a real will of their own. Instead, their wants, needs, desires and dreams have been subjected to the will of others. They are pretty much the ideal Christian child because they are tremendously pleasant to be around, but they later flounder in adult life".

Without going into too much detail...yeah. To a "T", yours truly.

I can honestly say I've overcome much of this, to varying degrees of success. But at the risk of sounding melodramatic, I can just as honestly say that something inside me remains damaged. I remain both rudderless and anchorless at thirty-fucking-six years of fucking age. And that fucking pisses me the fuck off!

As children, my sister and I were near perfect. We were extremely well behaved, so much so that it was a point of pride for our parents. They were always complimented on us.

As adults we have both struggled to find our own voices. I'm the more successful of us in regards to that, and I'm the one who closeted and married!

I also have a pretty sickening need for approval. This is something that has massively improved over the years, largely because nothing I do is good enough for my parents (who's approval I've longed for the most), so I have largely stopped trying in regards to them. They express approval every so often for minor things, but by and large, my liberal, free-thinking ways are anathema.

Now I'm to the point that my feelings on being disapproved of or unliked largely depend on the person. If I think they are an asshole, then fuck them.

If I like them, then I'm troubled very deeply.  But hell, depending on my level of dislike for the assholes, even being disliked by them bothers me a little!

I've been many people's best friend, but I've never felt like I have had a best friend. I'm known by many, but not really knowable. There are some who know most of me, like my wife, but even then it's only the parts I feel I can show.

With all of this said, what really gets to me is the part about not being able to deeply love another person.

As much as I love my wife, I don't know if I'm deeply in love with her. I don't know if I ever have been.

I don't know if I know how.

Young Love, Strong Love

I met my wife in 1999. I had just moved back to California after living in the midwest for a few years. A mutual friend was throwing me a "Welcome Back To Cali" party. Karen was the one who picked us up to go to the party.

I should pause for a moment and explain that, as is typical for a PK, I used to party my fucking ass off. I experimented with many things, never becoming an addict, but eventually settled into being a pothead/acidhead. I'm not advocating either of those things--I'm just being honest.

So, as it happens, when I met my wife I was frying on 3 hits of Pink Elephant acid. Yeah...it'll be awhile before we tell the kids all the details on how we met.

Anywho, she picked us up, and we had just dropped. We drove to the party, and just as we stepped out of the car, it hit. I was suddenly frying BALLS!

FYI--not all trips are created equal. Some are more body, some more visual, some more cerebral, some a mix of some or all of these.

This one just so happened to be a mind trip...and I was at a fucking WILD party with tons of people I DIDN'T KNOW.

Brilliant, Sean.

This meant that I was pretty much retarded, around a bunch of people I didn't know, except my friend. It made for a really uncomfortable evening for me, with one exception.

Karen.

For some reason, I was totally and completely comfortable around her. And despite the fact that I was tripping my balls off, she was totally comfortable around me. We immediately hit it off.

We quickly bonded and started hanging out a lot. She already had a boyfriend, but I wasn't seen as a threat because our mutual friend had informed her, before we ever met, that I was gay and had moved back to Cali to "chase the boys".

Almost, but not quite true.

I had already decided that when I got back to California I was going to pursue happiness and love, no matter where it lead me, be it with a man or a woman.

I met Karen on my third day back. It really has always felt like our meeting each other was meant to be. We had many talks about my sexuality, and I assured her I was straight enough to be with a woman. Within a month or so, she dumped her boyfriend for me. We started dating exclusively, at which point I informed her that should this get serious, she should know that I think marriage is truly insane. She agreed, but internally continued to plot my eventual demise. I loved her, but she is the one who really pushed the relationship forward.

Three months later, I proposed.