In the early 1970s, the choices for my life were stark. My father showed me a model of the rugged individualist. Then there was my attraction to men and the life that homosexuality seemed to promise. Neither was what I wanted. Continue reading
When I look back at my journals from 2012 when I first began to come out, what I wrote extensively about was finding love. I wrote in one journal entry, “I want true love. I want to find that one guy who I can be a soul mate with, that I can be honest and real with and have a deep connection with. Is it possible? I really don’t know. I feel that so many of us are so damaged by this age, that I’m not sure what I want is real or attainable.” Continue reading
The first dance at our wedding, a suggestion from my mother, was to be Norah Jones song, Come Away With Me. Continue reading
My wife and I were both in our later 30’s when we married, and she was thirty-eight when we began trying to conceive. As we tried to get pregnant month after month, soon with drugs and shots to help fertilization, the limitations of my attraction made sex harder and more emotionally challenging. She finally did have a pregnancy that went to term, a few years and a few miscarriages later, and we ended up with a wonderful baby boy. She was never able to get pregnant again. As the years went on, it became more difficult to have sex with my wife, and over time I pulled back from any kind of physical intimacy. Continue reading
It is 1990, and I am going on a “mission” to the Soviet Union, organized by a Jewish group. The purpose of the trip was to tour the USSR and in each city meet local Jews. We met with Jewish refuseniks, people in the former Soviet Union who were refused permission to emigrate. Continue reading
It is hard to know where to begin when writing a personal history. Do I start as a small child already feeling different than my peers, or do I begin later when I first began to understand my attraction to men? Let me tell this story through a series of vignettes over time. Continue reading
Like so many of us whose mothers warned us the dangers of being rushed to the hospital with dirty underwear, I see my bathroom in much the same way. Continue reading
