The Gay Closet

What is the closet like? It’s a complete separation of the inner life and what we show to the world. There is a secret interior landscape that stays secret. There has been much written about self loathing or self hatred in gays but I don’t feel that. I do feel, later in life, the desire to make the interior and exterior one. The desire to live honestly for what ever time I have left. Continue reading

A Stake Through The Heart

My wife said to me last night that my coming out to her as gay drove ‘a stake through my heart’. And that she felt it would take years to recover. But she was focused on protecting my son and didn’t want me coming out to him until he was older. In fact she wanted me to stay until January of his senior year in high school, almost two years away. Continue reading

Gay Married Mans Choice: To Stay or Go

I suspect one of the hardest decisions any married gay man must make is if he should stay or go. Keep the life and family he has or start anew. It’s a painful decision. I know, I go back and forth in my mind about this multiple times a day, yet can’t seem to make a decision. Continue reading

Love Letters

I’m reading the autobiography of a gay married man. It is: I Should Have Known: Memories of a Gay Married Man, By Dean Gardner Ostrum. What is striking about this gem of a book is the love letters between Dean and the man who became his life partner. The letters have the love and warmth of any two people in love and are lovely. Again, it points to a world of love and relationship between men that I’m only discovering exists and which I hope to find in my own life.

Gay DNA

One of the eternal questions of my life has been around the cause of homosexuality and the means to change.  For too many years I looked to psychological or emotional causes.  As many men before me have said, ‘If there was a way to change, I would have found it.’, and I don’t believe any of them ever did.  I’ve come to see that whatever makes for gay is organic at a cellular atomic DNA level. Continue reading