I was just out of town on a business trip for a few days and I met another “it’s complicated” married guy on one of the apps. We agreed to meet for drinks when he got done with work just to chat about our respective experiences and situations. He met me outside my hotel and we walked to a pub. He was very cute, dressed in preppy business casual clothes. A little shorter than me, dark hair and nice beard. Just my type. I was in a black button down with a striped skinny tie, black jeans and my vintage cowboy boots. When we sat down, he said he really liked the boots. I flirtatiously replied : “Oh, you noticed ?” and he shot back with a wry smile : “All gay men pay attention to details.” As the conversation progressed, he told me I was very handsome. “What’s funny,” I said, “is that I never get hit on and I think I’m invisible.” I was somewhat taken aback by his response : “That’s because you’re intimidating. You walk into a room and everyone looks at you. You take command of the space and you project an aura of unapproachability. Men, especially closeted married guys, are afraid you’ll reject them.” I’ve heard versions of this before. It’s always been my defense mechanism to hide. Project an air of confidence, own the space, lower my voice an octave, stand broad-shouldered with my feet fully planted, hands behind my back so as not to gesticulate too much. Create the façade of a mostly straight man. Don’t allow anyone to see any of the cracks in the wall. In the brutal aftermath of losing my guy and then coming out to my wife, I felt completely, utterly destroyed. Broken and worthless and depressed. Suicidal. And terrified that I could actually do it. I’ve had to rebuild the wall I thought, I hoped, I prayed would finally come down. But it’s not time yet. I don’t know if it ever will be. I needed this trip. 4 days with my professional colleagues, Away in a place where I could be me to a certain extent even though the façade is still mostly there. For the first time ever, with a bit of liquid encouragement, I openly and verbally told a married colleague that I was bisexual (as the chat continued I said “functionally bi but basically gay”). He pursued the conversation and I went on to tell him I was very attracted to him. He just looked bemused and didn’t run away. He even admitted to being “curious” and I let myself imagine myself kissing him, the gorgeous prom king. But he chose to spend the night with the gorgeous French girl instead. And that’s ok. One more lesson. More learning. On this dark and painful and terrifying journey i never wanted to take.
