Every gay guy has a story about how they came “out”. Usually this happens at a much younger age. These guys now older may have forgotten how difficult it was or the anxiety associated with the experience. But “out” they are and living large.
Me, I’m old and in the closet with one paw out feeling about, wondering what’s on the other side, is that a life for me? Why is this continuing to nag at me? This bi-sexual thing is a cop out. I’m not buying it. It’s fish or chicken, left or right, in my mind. But I’m in the middle, I feel like I’m in a old Star Trek eposide where the transporter fails mid-way and I’m caught in a blurry haze of static and noise.
Some gay guys don’t have patience to deal with me. “You’re queer, dear, so get on with it”, they say and look at distain. “Don’t come to our world just to visit when it pleases you and scurry back like a field mouse when trouble arises.”
Others are more sympathatic, patiently listening and offering advice where needed and just being there when not. Either way, I’m a foreigner on each side, a ship without a port for the moment.