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I still can't believe this is happening to me...

Discussion in 'Coming Out Stories' started by K0msomolets, May 17, 2007.

  1. K0msomolets

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    This is my first post so "Hi" to you all! This will be a long and frank coming out story...

    Well a bit of background first to show where things are now. I'm an ex-Zimbabwean mixed-race guy living in London. I've been married for 3 and a half years to a woman 17 years older than me, we don't have kids.

    When I think back to my early years and my teens, it all seems to make sense that things are finally turning out this way and in some ways it feels right that they should too. Yet I can't help but feel that "I can't believe that this is happening to me".

    Its funny the things that one remembers from ones childhood and I can only conclude that some of them must have had a subconscious influence over my sexuality. For instance I remember my earliest sexual experience, it was with a girl perhaps a year or two older than me and I must have been all of 3 or 4 years old. Her name was "Sithabile" (the gardener's daughter) or just "Mathabi" I remember the name and nickname so well because I was teased mercilessly by my older brother and his best friend from next door, Eric. I remember the feeling of embarrassment and shame that I immediately associated with sex acts, in particular sex with a girl.

    The next sexual encounter that I can remember was between me and my best friend, Witness, perhaps a few years after the preceding incident. We were playing in the bush not far from the house and somehow started fooling around in our childlike way. I remember saying to him (again because I was often mercilessly reminded of it by my brother and his onlooking best friend) "How come mine (my cock) has isihlama and yours doesn't?" - sorry for the crude detail by "isihlama" is crap left over on one's anus after using the toilet.

    We did fool around a bit more in years to come - no pun intended. In fact my first orgasm (probably at the age of seven because I subsequently went to boarding school) was with Witness. [As an aside, does anyone else remember childhood orgasm being earth shattering, because my eyes would flicker uncontrollably and my whole body would be immobilised by the delightful spasms - which I immediately associated with sex with another boy.]

    I often had sleep over's with my cousin, Ezekiel, during the school hols and needless to say we experimented - it was probably my influence initially as he was younger, although one can never be sure.

    I went to a traditional private boys only boarding school at the age of 8 for two years. I messed around with other boys in my last year there, including a foursome:icon_wink - no word of a lie, though orgasms were unpredictable as I don't recall ever having one at boarding school.

    At the age of ten I was back in the City at a co-ed primary school. I recall a school holidays visit to my cousin Ezekiel. We started sketching and I drew a picture of a man and a woman having sex in the shower - it was very detailed and had pubes'n'all, even water going down the drain. Ezekiel, for what ever reason ran off and showed it to his elder brother and sister who were in their mid-teens. I remember the feeling of shame and guilt as his sister rebuked me for my evil influence and promised to tell on me to her Mum. I was ordered to leave and I was literally on my bike seconds later and pedalling home in tears as fast as I could.

    When I became pubescent around the age of 11 or 12 it was my elder brother who introduced me to wanking - and a frequent pastime that became ;-) once I discovered that orgasms were available 'on tap' so to speak. I had of course noticed my brother's 'discharge' and the tiny amount of precum that would soon become my own raging torrent. I even decided that I didn't need people anymore since Mrs Hand and her five strapping sons would be taking regular care of me. Nevertheless the next holidays I saw Zeke again and this was the first time that I had sex with him that wasn't fooling around, I actually orgasmed (rather too quickly - again the blinking eyes and trembling limbs)

    For a while Witness' elder sister Matilda came to live with us to babysit my little brother and sister and we did get it on - the first time was a most unsatisfactory fumbling under the duvet with my cock at an unnatural angle most unfavourable to penetration - that was the first time I saw 'it'. Around the same time Zeke came over again and we watched a music video, I can't remember who was singing and I remember saying to him about the male vocalist "Don't you think that guy is handsome?" He replied, "I don't like him, I'm not a homo." Now of course I knew what a homo was, I just didn't associate myself with being one in any way, nor at the time did I associate the fact that I felt completely gutted by his statement with that conclusion either. In fact from my earliest years everyone used the derogatory Southern African term "moffie" to describe in very negative terms gay people and I consequently could not in anyway bring myself to even entertain the notion that I might be gay. In fact I looked down upon the few effeminate people that were to be found and given the opportunity would have called them a "Moffie".

    Then Matilda and I had anal sex, rather than normal sex (at her insistence - she was probably scared about something and as fate would have it she should have stuck to that solution as she had a teenage pregnancy from a sugar daddy during her high school years - I not understanding the full mechanics (nor sure of which hole i'd used) was petrified that it might be mine). Naturally I obliged, being happy to stick it into anything hot, tight and slippery at the earliest opportunity - :tantrum: NO the pets were safe from me, as were the farm animals :grin:

    (to be continued)
     
  2. K0msomolets

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    (continued) Sorry this is turning into more of a life story than a coming out story. God, just reading the first post is such a trip down memory lane. I didn't realise that I was such a randy little runt! I've always figured myself to be a quiet and deprived sort of guy, but hey reading that you'd think I was like a rabbit. In fact its jogged my memory a little more. I recall that in my early years another cousin called Selwyn (same age as me) and my elder brother (by two years) frequently had 69 oral sex and called it "Parliament". Parliament would sit whenever adults were away. I wasn't permitted to take part in the deliberations, which of course made me wish to take part even more.

    Anyway I digress. High school years. As my father was a teacher at a private boys only high school, my brother and I were permitted to study there for free - otherwise we'd have had to go to a government school. This private school had more white guys in it than hitherto I had seen congregated in one place in my entire life. It wasn't long before I began to notice particular guys, mostly the very good looking lean/muscular swimmer types and over the years I had crushes on several and had fantasies about having sex with them. Hmmm, I get stirrings even now just thinking about them. [As an aside, I met one here in London when I first arrived here nearly 6 years ago - but lost his number :bang: Its a crazy hope that he would be gay and reading this thread] I should add, that like with most places people often made disparaging remarks about homos, fags, moffies etc in high school and I'm now ashamed to say that I took part in the victimisation of one poor effeminate wretch in my metalwork class - I can only conclude he chose metalwork because he was a little thick and couldn't handle commerce. Although for three years in Maths classes, for no particular reason I found myself seated beside the one person in my class who, had I thought about it at the time, I would have thought of as being 99.9% Moffie. He was as camp as they come - the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he carried his backpack under his arm LOL. I can't say I was drawn to sit next to him, in all likelihood I came late to class as usual and it was the only available seat and teachers always wanted us to sit in the same places ever lesson. Indeed it was never an unpleasant experience, in fact we got on just fine - though he did have a penchant for relaying tales of his elder brother's sexual (mis)adventures.

    Early in my high school years I was introduced by my elder brother to paying for oral sex. (Morality never came into it - it was just something that we did) We got pocket money weekly and our friends next door didn't. Witness gave me rubbish blowjob (so we didn't do it again - except for one time we 69'd), but his younger brother was a pro! He was really talented at it and it became a regular thing that my brother and I would just pay for from time to time. I recall getting horny in class on pocket money day, thinking about what would be happening to my cock when I got home. In fact Witness' brother sometimes actually solicited us to get somemore money. We didn't realise it but we'd created a rentboy. I suppose we never thought it would ever catch up with us even though we were really discrete about it.

    I don't know how or why but Witness' brother told his mother what was going on. She told their Dad, who called my Dad over and told him over the fence. Imagine my TERROR as my Dad confronted my brother and I. Now I had hitherto had a reputation as a very, very good boy and my brother was always the black sheep - naughty, restless, rude, inconsiderate. So where he admitted it, I denied it absolutely!!! I was adamant that I'd had nothing whatsoever to do with whatever was going on - in fact - I do recall producing an expression that may have conveyed to my father an impression of utter incredulity, an impression of complete surprise that this had been going on and that of course I had nothing to do with such an awful, awful thing as paying the neighbour's younger son to suck on my penis using the pocket money that my dear father supplied.

    My father decided to check on my story so he spoke to the neighbour who spoke to his son and much to my surprise and not inconsiderable relief I was told that the boy had said that I'd had nothing to do with it, that it was only my elder brother (who afterall had initiated the whole thing). My reputation at least at home was as impeccable as ever, next door was another matter - I never did get my friend's brother to suck me again, probably out of fear of a repetition of the traumatic event - but it wasn't for want of trying because I hinted at it often enough but he just wanted me to say it, to say that I wanted it. So Mrs Hand and her five strapping son's took over my custom exclusively for a long long time thereafter.

    Periodically I would think of girls (always with fear - since living on the outskirts of the city I had little access to girls of my own race - inter-racial relationships were and probably still are frowned upon in Zimbabwe and are therefore uncommon - a legacy of Rhodesian apartheid). More often I would think of the boys at high school that I fantasised about.

    After two years in high school my father died. I'm unsure of the impact the absence of a male role model had on my sexuality. I suppose it depends on which side of the nature/nurture debate you stand.

    When other boys spoke of 'molesting' a girl, or spoke about socialising with girls, or when valentine's day came round and everybody was sending off roses to the girls' high schools, I never took part. When a guy came into school with a purple lovebite on his neck and got ribbed, I never took part in the ribbing. Partly because I felt curiously out of place talking about such things, partly out of shyness (I was painfully shy about such things) or perhaps subconsciously out of fear that they might discover that I wasn't actually interested in girls.

    Nevertheless, after leaving high school I chatted up a girl and we arranged a date. She was two years older than me. We had dinner and then headed towards the cinema and then OMFG - a man standing at the entrance to the cinema (who looked strangely like one of the bouncers at a niteclub I'd been to) approached and literally grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away kicking and screaming. I followed of course unsure of what was going on and tried to stop him - he immediately (in his intimidating bouncer way) told me that he was her husband and that she had lied to me. What could I say to that? I certainly didn't say: "Ahem! Mr Bouncer I know from the fact that she is not denying it that she is REALLY your wife. Yet I have just had my first date with a girl f**ked up and would like very much to talk to her about it - besides what do I do with these cinema tickets?" I sold the tickets to a couple about to buy their own - after all I was already playing a part in a rapidly unfolding movie scene in front of a queue waiting to buy tickets. That was really traumatic for me and made me a little disappointed and cautious about women - abit more than I already was anyway.

    No women, no sex for years. Then I came to the UK and had the most curious experience. I'd been here a little while when the Notting Hill Carnival time arrived. I remember going down there and seeing all these dancing people and joining in the dancing to the driving beats. Then a little while later I was walking along with the floats following the carnival route when this cute, short guy with brown hair and a baby face tapped me on the arm, I turned and he looked into my eyes with a most peculiar mischievous (and I later realised seductive) look on his face. I didn't realise it at the time but this delightful little morsel was actually cruising me!!! Its completely flattering now and of course if you're out there Master Twinklet and you ever cruise me again I will ride you like a pony (or vice versa if you like). Alas, I recall frowning and feeling irritable that some stranger wanted directions or something. I asked what he wanted, and asked again what he wanted :eusa_doh: he shook his head and mumbled something (probably thinking he's gaydar was skew that afternoon - as he had picked out a potential gaybasher) Perhaps subconsciously I KNEW what he wanted and reacted defensively to the fact that he had thought of me as an available gay man looking for some action.

    Anyway were getting to the coming out part now but you'll have to wait a little.

    (to be continued)
     
    #2 K0msomolets, May 17, 2007
    Last edited: May 17, 2007
  3. Double Dubya

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    wow, when do we get the rest?
     
  4. Jim1454

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    Sort of like watching a 'made for tv movie' in your head... also waiting for the rest of the story!
     
  5. TeeBe

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    More than a little intriguing. And well written. Please continue!
     
  6. K0msomolets

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    (continued)

    Thank you all for your most encouraging messages... I will continue...

    Now you'll be sure I'm a pervert! Pornography (thanks to my elder brother) has been a constant theme in my life; it is illegal in Zimbabwe I might add. It started almost immediately that he went to high school (two years before me). It started with glossy tatt featuring close ups of vaginas and nipples, lots of big boobed women in lascivious poses either naked or dressed in the ubiquitous threadbare lace lingerie. For a horny 11 or 12 year old such as I was, this was great and Mrs Hand & her five daughters suddenly had faces and pussies ( As an aside its around this time that I discovered that wanking was a whole lot more pleasurable if I applied body lotion to lubricate my activities - in years to come my self-education graduated to vaseline, soap, shampoo, hair conditioner and had I thought about it would have tried even engine oil :lol: - as a further aside I highly recommend olive oil which at this stage and thanks to my wife is like an aphrodisiac due to frequent misuse and involuntary association - I no longer cook with sunflower or vegetable oil :icon_wink ) I particularly liked the story sections of the mags, in which there were descriptions from both a man and woman's point of view of various sexual scenarios entitled 'Rustic Steve' and 'The suicidal waif' and such like - I suspect that the reason I enjoyed these more than the pictures (apart from the fact that I have a very active imagination) is that I could imagine engorged cock's perhaps my own, perhaps those of the boys I fantasised about in my school, penetrating women. In fact, it was noticeable to me in my later associations with video porn that I didn't like the soft porn, the lesbian scenes or the cunnilingus - what got me going was seeing a big cock getting sucked or a big cock plunging into a gagging cavity.

    As far as straight porn goes, I always hated Ron Jeremy and thought of him as the fat f**k I always fast forward when I get to. I still have fond memories of the classic Taboo II which revolves around a theme of incest - perhaps its the illicit nature of that particular kind of sex and the fact that I wanted illicit sex of another type that made me so fond of that one. I highly recommend it for all of you even though its straight porn as I've fantasised about the main male character ever since...

    I recall that before he died, my Dad discovered my brother's porn stash hidden in his cupboard - he was probably looking for evidence of smoking. I only found out because Vernon told me that they'd been confiscated. I was sad to be deprived of porn videos and its interesting that my Dad didn't destroy them but proceeded to watch them. I know this from listening at the locked living room door - I was of course had intimate knowledge of every scene on every video and the sounds and voices of the assorted characters. I suspect he'd never seen one before. Naturally as the video's were found in Vernon's cupboard (we now had separate rooms), I was in the clear, my goodie gumdrops reputation spotless as ever.

    When I came to the UK, I didn't know where to buy porn so I went to HMV :grin: and bought two VHS tapes which turned out to be soft porn - I was so disappointed - especially because the cover had explicitly mentioned a 9-inch cock! This was slightly compensated for by one or two flashes of the male star's shaven balls. In the Mirror I found an ad in the back for a cheap porn sample - I paid by postal order and it duly arrived discretely packaged and accompanied by a catalogue. The porn was most satisfactory and included scenes from a host of videos that I immediately wanted to buy. NOW this catalogue is where I realised that there was actually gay porn in existence. At this stage I couldn't even contemplate buying gay porn, let alone enjoying it. At this stage if you'd have suggested I might be gay I'd have broken you nose - I just recall looking somewhat curiously at the buffed slightly camp pose of to men on the picture of a video cover and feeling a little nervous.

    I discovered Soho in due course and the assorted sex shops peddling their assorted wares. I was always very conscious to stay as far away from the gay section as possible lest somebody think I was a gay man looking for gay porn - Oh, no, no, God forbid they should think that! I gradually became desensitized to looking at straight porn DVD covers and usually had to actually watch porn to get properly turned on. Then one day I was in Camden Town (North London) on my way to college and noticed a porn shop. I proceeded inside and began looking at DVD covers with no intention of buying - it was just for a free turn-on (perhaps for a better wank later in the college toilets) - as fate would have it I unwittingly picked up a gay dvd and saw the images on the back of gay sex scenes. I swear I have never had such a raging hard on, nor one which made its uncomfortable presence felt so quickly (I couldn't very well reach into my trousers to adjust my cock whilst in a porn shop - 'they' would all have known that I had an erection and that wouldn't do at all - so I removed my backpack and carried it strategically instead)

    Later that week I returned to Soho and glancing at the gay section from afar felt violent stirrings begin down below so I averted my eyes at once and returned to looking at the much nearer straight porn. This happened on several other occassions before I realised that if I actually went over to have a good look, sure people might 'think' that I'm gay but I know better and besides nobody knows me and they're all so self conscious anyway that they won't bother with me. Thus I rationalised that it was ok for a straight guy to look at gay porn. Then Soho bookshops began putting gay porn onto one of their screens and I recall the first time I saw it and how horny it made me! I can still recall the exact scene: Imagine a man standing upright with legs apart and a camera beneath this bottom looking slightly upwards at his balls and the underside of his cock - now imagine that two-thirds of the underside of that cock is glistening as a tongue slowly licks its all over - in between sucking on the the head - then the tongue reaches further and furls around his shaven goose-pimpled balls. OMG that was just too much for me and I had to buy gay porn which I duly did - many times over and taking full advantage of the exchange for £10 deals they had.

    Around this time I met my future wife.

    (continued below)
     
    #6 K0msomolets, May 18, 2007
    Last edited: May 18, 2007
  7. K0msomolets

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    (back again)

    Now you've had some insight into how I began the process of coming out to myself. All I can say is that 'De-Nile' is not a river in Egypt. I was so deeply in denial that I would perhaps have reacted violently to being asked if I was gay, let alone accused. Yet I was always conscious that I'd heard that some people who behave in that manner could be doing so because they are gay and in denial about it or very scared of coming out even though they know that they are gay. So we get to the part now where I met my wife.

    We met at Smollensky's on the Strand, an American style jazz bar near Embankment in London. I was tagging along with my Aunt and female cousin. My aunt in her mid-forties is quite a character and had invited me to tag along as she was meeting up with some friends. We got there and met her friends one of whom had brought along my future wife. [You deserve another little aside, having read this far: My aunt was married to my Uncle (duh!), its just that he lived in Zimbabwe and she lived here in London and got up to no good the whole time - and I suspect he knew. I recall one occassion when she lived in Bermondsey when I visited her - I usually did on Sundays. We went to the shops and passed by what looked like a closed down pub called "The Fort", she proceeded to wink at me and laugh and say that apparently it is a gay cruising joint where guys must on arrival change out of all attire - except for socks and shoes which are the 'uniform'. I've since discovered on a web cruising guide that this is true. At the time I laughed a little nervously (thinking that perhaps she thinks - quite wrongly of course - that I am gay) and smiled.]

    So my future wife and I met at Smollensky's but not quite immediately I cringe to admit. Alas, being the red-blooded male in denial that I was, I noticed the Brazilian woman in our group instead. Also probably in her forties, but looking like she could be in her mid-thirties - tight fitting clothing, curvy, sexy bust, a bubble but and extremely seductive in her 'ordinary' behaviour - I very (false) confidently plonked myself down next to her and proceeded to chat her up - my enthusiasm probably being for the benefit of my Aunt - perhaps subconsciously to disuade any further thoughts in her mind that I might be gay. :slight_smile:eusa_doh: in full view of the woman I would later marry and who would ceaselessly remind me that I was her second choice - the sad fact is that she was). We all had to squeeze around one of those annoying American style booth-tables with a curved seat that needs everybody on oneside to get out if the person in the middle needs the loo - I digress again - So we were nice and snug in there and I chatted her up - I got her number and she promised to teach me to Salsa (I later learned that she is a voracious man-eater).

    The next week we all met again on a nite-club boat on the Thames and the brazilian woman and I proceeded to Salsa (what I seriously lacked in ability, I made up for in enthusiasm) Nothing came of it and we all went home. I should add once more that my future wife witnessed the whole thing and reminded me of this too, often. That weekend we all met up at Smollensky's again but the Brazilian woman wasn't there - I was secretly glad as I found her a bit intimidating, learned that she had (several) kids and that she had a reputation - there may have been memories of the aforementioned 'bouncer' experience above. In any event my future wife (17 years older than me) was there and we proceeded to dance the night away and I got her number.

    We became good friends before we first had sex. Now I mentioned that my aunt was quite a character (no im not digressing), she was f**king this guy called Nick right who had also been chatting to my future wife. One evening my aunt phoned me up and said that she had some bad news as she had found out that my girlfriend (who as yet I had not slept with) was having an affair with Nick. I was shocked and livid, with memories of the 'bouncer' incident resurfacing. As it turns out I've learned the hard way through loss of her friendship that my Aunt is a compulsive liar - she can't help herself - its as though one of the devil's primordial pubic hairs got lodged in her throat so that she just cannot help but vomit forth lies in and amongst the truth.

    So I confronted my girlfriend who I could tell was genuinely shocked by the accusation and vehemently denied it. I took a chance and trusted her and as it turns out she is 100% trustworthy and thence our friendship was born. Still it was bad sex. I remember thinking as I got my first close up of her neck that it had signs of aging and I remember feeling slightly nauseated by that; although my ever reliable cock rose to the occassion. In my inexperience I thought having sex was like in the pornos so I proceeded to muff dive before impaling her - I must have been so nervous because I didn't cum. Quick thinking however averted any embarrassment for either of us as I pretended to cum not once but twice over a period of several hours of rogering in one position. I know it was hours because I only got half an hour's sleep before going to work. I still can't believe I actually had to fake it! It was god-awful, although I recall feeling proud the next day as my studly staying power (and I suspec my heterosexuality) was confirmed - thats how I rationalised the faking it at the time.

    Anyway over the coming months (no pun intended once again) ejaculation was not a problem anymore and we went at it like rabbits at every given opportunity, in every given position and location conceivable - as it should be. It is here that I was introduced to the miracles of mutual masturbation aided by olive oil. All the while I still indulged in my gay porn stash, although I did insist on keeping and occassionally watching my solitary straight porn sample acquired when I first arrived in the UK. I thought nothing of it, although I suppose deep down I might have briefly entertained the notion that it was not normal to watch and be so utterly turned on by gay porn and still be straight - which incongrously in my mind I still was. Perhaps because of this I did go through a most humiliating experience of my cock declaring itself liberated from my sex drive - Sir Lancelot did not arise having been knighted - I couldn't get it up for sex - my then girlfriend was very sympathetic (I suppose being an experience woman it might not have been her first time). Curiously I still could get it up for the gay porn. Eventually the Cock coup detat was crushed and I reassumed control of what should righly do my every bidding.

    We moved in together after being together for a year or so, we spent most weekends and some week nights together anyway. Then immigration issues necessitated getting married, since we didn't want to be apart (I'd have had to return to Zimbabwe) and I didn't want to be deported, we got married - having had a very romantic engagement in Hastings (don't be so shocked those of you who know of Hastings, its actually beautiful in places, theres a beautiful hill covered in grass at the top, reached by funicular railway it has magnificent views over the English channel - it was winter and the sun came out just for the day) we were married 2 months later. We've had 3 miscarriages - although at this stage I must admit to feeling relief that we don't have any children.

    I should add that when we moved in together I got rid of my porn stash - this was gutting - but I rationalised in my mind that the phase was over and that seeing as we were thinking of getting married there was no need for me to have gay porn. However I couldn't bring myself to bin the bag, so I left it on the pavement in the hope that someone who might 'need' it would end up with it. This didn't last long. Soon after getting married I bought my first gay dvd instead of the usual vhs (all the better for concealing about the house - What is it about men that gives them the ability to hide porn in the most ingenious of places? Or is it just me?


    Now the frequency of sex had already begun to decline so that by June of 2006 onwards it was perhaps once a month sometimes once in six weeks. Strangely enough this was not a problem. In addition we were having difficulties in our relationship. She accused me of being "detached" and "refusing to take the role of husband" and generally being irresponsible about things relating to our marriage. This was a theme oft repeated from when we first met - initially about my immigration issues. I gradually came to see that she might be right. I should add that my wife has been in psychoanalysis for about 13 years in total and is probably more perceptive about people's behaviour as a consequence.

    Around December of 2006 things came to a head. I had been increasing become irritable and "detached" as she would put it, I had been thinking for a little while about the possibility that I might be gay. I think living with someone in therapy and hearing them talk about all sorts of personal problems and deep seated issues must have subconsciously challenged me to address my own. When you're with someone for a length of time you begin to pick up some elements of their personality and ways of perceiving things and I guess I must have developed a capacity for a measure of introspection however modest.

    (continued below)
     
  8. Jim1454

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    Uncanny how many similarities there are in your story to my own. However, there is absolutely no way I would have written it as well... I think it's the British expressions sprinkled in here and there that make it so great to read.

    Carry on - but we must chat at some point!
     
  9. K0msomolets

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    (continued)

    I suddenly realised that there was a very strong possibility that I was gay or at the very least bisexual. I found myself increasingly unable to cope with my part-time law degree (not for lack of ability - just an inability to concentrate and apply myself to the work that needed to be done). I became moody and depressive (most unlike me I might add - as a former person in denial and former believer in the virtues of 'positive mental attitude' and all that sort of motivational hype, I can confirm that ignorance is bliss). I was emotionally exhausted. Then my wife gave me an ultimatum to either get a therapist to deal with my "detachment" or we might have to separate. She said that she could put up with anything as long as she knew that I was working at things. I suppose I was encouraged by this. I was already looking at this website and others like it reading coming out stories and started to think that perhaps I should tell her that I think I could be gay. A TERRIFYING THOUGHT INDEED!!! There was a flavour in my mind at this stage that was reminiscent of when I was confronted by my Dad about the blowjobs for cash thing. So I was petrified and felt guilty and confused and alone. I love my wife, despite being gay and I love my home and don't want to have to live somewhere else. Besides, I'm a very private person - ironically this makes it easier to tell my story to people I don't know that to people that I do know. So it was one thing to admit it to myself, which eventually I did, and quite another to admit it to my wife. I did realise though from reading other sites that I had to come out eventually - I also realised that it was better for all concerned if this happened sooner rather than later but was also conscious of advice to only do so when absolutely ready.

    On the notion of therapy/psychoanalysis I'd always been indulging of my wife in her need for this, even though I thought it was a waste of time and a considerable amount of money. It was her money anyway right, what right did I have to stop her. Now she wanted me to try therapy and I was so resistant to the notion and absolutely refused initially. Then I gradually began to realise that it might present an opportunity for me to come out to somebody I don't know and perhaps become accustomed to the feeling. Also I would be assured of confidentiality and at least be able to get some support. I should add at this point that since coming to the UK I've been a bit of a 'Billy No-mates' so I don't exactly have a queue of sympathetic friendly ears to test my coming out upon.

    So I reluctantly relented and agreed to an initial consultation at the Chiron centre for body psychotherapy (different to normal psychotherapy - my wife had just left her therapist of many years and her whole out look on life changed after she had been at Chiron a few times - so I felt slightly more openmined about them than I would have done by her curmudgeonly previous therapist). So I was interviewed by the guy who runs Chiron and I just told him. I recall now that I was determined to tell him actually and that I had the sensation of having a cricket ball lodged in my throat and tears on the verge of springing forth as I said that "I think I might be gay" my heart was pounding, my palms were sweaty and I couldn't believe I was actually saying what I had thought privately. It suddenly made it a reality and a terrifying one at that (albeit filled with exciting possibilities). He was very understanding and a week later referred me to my current therapist.

    I have a strong suspicion that my therapist is gay, thats probably why I was referred to him by my interviewer. Hell if I have any gaydar at all then he is gay - apart from the fact that some of the books on his shelves are to do with 'male bodies', homosexuality and orgasms and such. Then there is the absence at his age of a wedding ring. Clues that alone mean nothing of course, except that when you meet and speak to him, I suppose they help to draw that conclusion. Perhaps its a fantasy of mine that he is gay? I don't think so, he IS gay! Of course he wouldn't tell me, not yet anyway for fear that it will alter the dynamic of our sessions, or initiate some transferrence or make the therapy more about him than me or some other Freudian reason. At the very least it was supportive to be able to talk about how depressed I was, how I felt I had to tell my wife eventually despite being certain it would lead to divorce and me moving out from our home. He always said and still does say to me to take thing slowly - that there is no rush. Incidentally, there was a tinge of excitement mixed with that idea of leaving home - afterall it would mean that I could be free to be gay and live my life as such. Nevertheless I love my wife and was sad and depressed at the idea of forever losing her friendship.

    After several more weeks like this and sessions of weekly therapy in which I told my therapist I just had to tell her - well things just sort of came to a head. My wife asked me one morning if there was any part of me that thought I might not want to be with her in future and I guess there must have been some uncertainty conveyed in my delayed response and in my depressive mumbling. I think I may have said that "I don't know" which freaked her out as she thought we would be together forever. So she sat me down and asked what made me uncertain. She was, I could tell, becoming increasingly agitated and I recall being unable to say the words "I'm gay". I recall the sensation that this was the moment, now or never and that if I didn't say it even in my agitated state then I never would. Then she asked "Are you gay?" SILENCE, EXTENDED SILENCE!!! Then I said "I don't know, I think I might be."

    That is not the end of the story

    (to be continued)
     
    #9 K0msomolets, May 18, 2007
    Last edited: May 18, 2007
  10. K0msomolets

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    Sure
     
  11. K0msomolets

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    The upshot is that I showed my wife a site with some coming out stories on it (not this one) that involved married men being gay. She found a story on this site in which a coulple stayed together despite the husband being gay. I might add that she was completely distraught. Anyway she picked up on this idea that the husband stayed with his wife since they loved each other, they continued to have sex but he had 'licence' to indulge is gay side provided he was safe and discrete and didn't neglect their marriage. To my wife this was the best solution to a bad situation seeing as she couldn't bear to not be with me. So we decided to try it out. I've always contemplated since accepting my gay side that Kinsey's research into sexual orientation could perhaps be right. His report suggests that there is a scale of 0-6 in masculine sexuality ranging from completely straight to completely gay and that people move along it at different stages of their lives (There is even a type 'X' who have no sexuality - poor sods) So I'm trying not to jump to the conclusion that I'm bisexual or that I am completely gay. At the very least I'm somewhere in between there - though possibly at level 5 on the scale.

    Its been two months since, we've been on holiday and have had sex slightly more regularly than in recent times and things are going as well as can be expected in the circumstances. She is extremely anxious that once I start having gay sex I will leave her, or this will lead to me leaving her. I feel confused and anxious and have only just started making ver tentative steps towards actually acting on my 'liberty'. I am extremely attracted to men and I wonder whether agreeing to this open relationship (convenient though it is) was done out of guilt, fear, anxiety or pity. Whatever happens I'm going to take my time and I can only recommend that you don't rush it either if you're contemplating coming out - no matter how stressed you are take it slow.

    As my concluding aside I will add that my wife needed support too and as she has this week admitted to me, she 'outed' me to some of her very close friends, including her brother. This completely freaked me out especially since we had agreed to discuss who we should permit to know, before actually doing it. I cried for the first time since my Dad's funeral. I felt betrayed, petrified that others now knew, but strangely enough there is a sense of relief at the back of my mind that I don't have to come out to them - I should add that I have met and spent time with them whilst they knew my secret and I didn't know that they knew it - they all behaved normally. Despite feeling betrayed, I can't blame her as she was completely distraught and in need of support and in one way though nobody is to blame for the fact that I am gay, my coming out has in effect upset the apple cart that was her life. So we're both taking it slow now. I imagine we will stay together, how realistic that is I don't know.

    Thanks for reading.
     
    #11 K0msomolets, May 19, 2007
    Last edited: May 19, 2007
  12. Jim1454

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    Wow - thanks for investing the time in writing this - I found it very interesting. Unfortunately for me I had a couple of other issues that compounded the fact that I was gay and married. My wife couldn't see herself staying in a relationship that wasn't completely monogamous, or where she felt I wasn't entirely satisfied, so we have separated. I wish you all the best though in your journey.
     
  13. K0msomolets

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    Thanks Jim1454, to be honest I expected and wanted to be in your situation (separated) and had prepared myself for that consequence. Indeed there is a part of me that thinks that separation is inevitable; call me cynical but another way to describe cynicism is as pessimistic realism, in fact where ever I've read about open relationships the consensus seems to be that they are doomed to failure whether straight or homosexual. Yet I'd hate to be so narrow-minded as to simply accept that at face value. We all have unique circumstances and the potential outcomes are at least in theory all possible, so I'm giving this 'open relationship' thingy as good a go as I can. With some luck and committment who knows it may yet work.

    Good luck to you Jim, I'm sorry things didn't work out, but perhaps its for the best that they did not? I too wish you all the best.