My wife is mad at me. I don’t like being at home. I’m a caged animal. Pacing the floor. In a bad mood. So late last we have a calm collected conversation. She’d found a German gay married support group and a posting from a women who had endured 8 years of hell with her husband before they divorced. My wife didn’t want that to be the case for us. I don’t blame her.
She’s listening as I explain my fear in what I’ve seen. This isn’t a choice, it’s who you are and I’m clinging to the rails of this bouncing ship. The gay partnership is not simply a role reversal from a straight relationship, I explain. The sexual charge, the insecurity, the “not fitting” into society, the unclear roles, the lack of a family bond — I’m used to challenges, but this is formidable. I conclude that no one in their right mind accepts this fate, each guy deals with it differently and sometimes the conclusion isn’t pretty.
She’s trying to be supportive, maybe I haven’t seen all the possibilities, after all the bar/club scene is pretty self selective. I agree. I profess that this story will find a natural conclusion, no need to push for it, like floating on tire tube, relax and let the river do the work. No need to hurt anyone.
Standing in line to buy a printer this morning, Philippino guy, long black hair, streaked blonde highlights, leather jacket & boots, light beard, well put together. I hate myself as a strike up a conversation. Just chain me up out back.