Coming Out

8-June 2019:  Coming Out

I’m 47 years old. While age isn’t usually something I often dwell on, it's a long time to live in the closet. It’s not something of which I am proud. When you stop to think about it, that is a long time to live as a repressed gay man.

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Essentially, I grew up in an era where I did not know anyone who was openly gay. Friends, family, and schoolmates always made fun of gays, referring to them in derogatory manners such as “fags” and “homos.” My catholic upbringing taught me that you would go straight to hell if you were gay. My parents were good people but never asked me about my sexuality. They never sat me down to teach me about the “birds and the bees.” Like most boys my age, I learned everything from friends, movies, books, and intuition.
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I probably first paid attention to boys around the age of 15. I certainly didn’t know I was gay at that time. I remember having an attraction to girls or at least wanting a girlfriend. I think my attraction to boys was more uncomfortable at that age than anything else. In my college days, there were a few guys that I think I probably had crushes on but never did or said anything. I just liked hanging out with them and going to the gym or for runs. It would have been pointless anyway, as they were straight (at least as far as I knew).
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I didn’t date much in high school or college. My first kiss with a girl was pretty awful. I’m not sure if it was her or me. She was super aggressive, and I wasn’t really that into her. I never had sex with a woman until I met my wife at 29. We married when I was 30. She was my first serious girlfriend. I really thought I would be able to live my life as a straight man; I desperately wanted to. In essence, I did for the first 9 years of my marriage. At that point, I started to branch out into some online activities that I have often regretted. I also got my first smartphone (a Blackberry, no less). Smartphones and the Internet are evil, LOL! They open up a lot of new pathways that would otherwise not exist for a closeted, married gay man.
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After 9 years of maintaining a faithful marriage, I finally strayed and had another encounter with a man. It has continued off and on, although quite infrequently. However, that doesn’t really matter…does it? A cheater is, simply put, a cheater. As my wife has told me, cheating is a deal breaker. She has made it clear she would end the marriage under those circumstances. I can’t say I blame her. I’m unsure what she would say if she knew the activity was with a man, but I know she wouldn’t be pleased. The truth would give her some answers she has been seeking that I have thus far been unable or unwilling to provide to her. I know her well enough to be concerned that the truth could destroy her. I could get over her being angry at me. But I’m not sure I could leave her behind in a mess, especially with our children involved.  

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So I have persisted in this state of denial. It is tempting, albeit scary, to end it and declare the truth. Does the adage “The truth will set you free” apply? Can I be a gay father and ex-husband while continuing my job in a small, isolated rural community? I’m uncertain all of that is possible. And if I come out of the closet, what would be the best way and means to do so? It is the collateral damage I want to minimize.
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 My impression is that life isn’t black and white. Instead, I see a lot of shades of gray. 

And if you look hard enough, you may see one’s true colors. But they also have to let you inside for that to happen. I’m afraid I may never reveal my true colors.