Looking back at last weeks, I have to say, I’m not terribly happy. I had hoped that moving out would be like a weight lifting off of me. Ah … “now I can be me.” Instead I’m feeling like Neil Armstrong. I’m on a foreign planet. Looking out of my Plexiglass shield. I don’t know the rules. Everything is a bit strange. It’s not because I’m lonely. Christ, I’ve got more stuff going on, I was thrilled to just sit home last night and watch a movie.
Simply put, I don’t relate to gay guys. I’ve tried really hard. Sure I can get into their minds. No doubt, I find the younger set I’ve been chasing attractive. But then again, I like younger girls too. Was looking at a table full of mid-aged guys having dinner, chatting, just generally having a good time. I’m thinking, if I have to do guys like that, I’m buying a gun and ending it all. BTW – I have the same thoughts when a herd of middle age women descend on my house. I’ve sharply tuned my senses and realized the emotional vibe just hasn’t been there with any of the guys I’ve met.
Peter & Paul held an intervention with me this week, “OK Chris – it’s time for you to end your sabbatical and move forward. Amusing as it has been to watch, it’s just not who you are.”
Brian, the therapist, had sighed one day in our discussions, “Well, the only thing worse, that I can think of, than finding out you’re gay .. is finding out you’re bisexual.” Oops.