On Being

In a rare mode, I wrote a post last week without finishing it because I felt it had a lack of focus. I attributed this to my writing not being up to snuff but on Monday I came to realize that the lack of focus was truly a reflection of my own internal confusion. This came home to roost when I went to my therapist with my every other week “I am better now” attitude. No longer do I claim to be cured of being bi; now I claim acceptance of it as being the cure. That night as I explained this to KA, she “slapped” me in Dane’s best traditions. She was of course correct.

The thing is that I hide behind being bi with a passing nod to the fact that being bi means that I am also gay, if only when having sex with men. The thing is that my gayness exists to a greater degree than I am willing to admit to myself. The fact that I am with my wife and not likely to find myself in a relationship with a man allows me to cling to a sex based definition. By using this definition I can emotionally remain the straight guy who likes giving blowjobs or as I used to tell myself an oversexed guy without the boundaries of hetero, homo, etc: just one who likes sex. Intellectually I know better.

That night as we were talking there was an internal wake up call. As I lay in bed with KA discussing these matters there is a certain level of sexual excitement that I cannot really define and which on occasion culminates in sex. On Monday night she commented that she did not really understand what was so exciting to me about “sucking a dick” – that maybe it was a topic for Tom, my therapist. As she was asking and I was answering, I became hard, rock hard – that feeling like it will explode hard. A little while later we made love and the inescapable fact to me was that while making love was good and was successful (Woody Allen once said he never had an orgasm that wasn’t right on the money), I was never close to being as hard as when we were discussing sucking dicks. The body does not lie.

This brings me (and KA) to the question of why I am fighting this so hard. On March 15th in a post titled Denial, Sweet Denial this quote appears: “I go home and explain this to KA. She listens nicely and then in the calmest of fashions proceeds to “bitch slap” me. She is of course right. I have declared myself cured of any issues of being bi in a marriage.” A month and a half and I would like to say two steps forward and one step back; the problem is in seeing the forward though I know it is there.

We kick around some thoughts – my need to be liked. There is truth to this – even in this Blog I worry about disappointing. One can blame it on the disappointment it would cause my parents; personally I think the fact they have been dead for a decade should somewhat alleviate this concern.

I suspect there are two major issues here. First is my love of my wife and family: my comfort, emotional and physical, with the life I now have. I read Cal – can you spell slippery slope – with a mix of horror dashed with jealousy. My worst case scenario is not semi-anonymous sex – it’s falling in love. This of course would be true if I was engaged in heterosexual adultery also and is one of many reasons I don’t.

These are good reasons, but they are reasons of the head and this is a problem of the heart. And my heart is lagging. It is afraid and it is ashamed as if this is a failing on my part. I suppose it has taken me 40 years to admit to being bi – what are a few more months on the road to accepting that bi includes gay.


Of course there is the trip to Chicago, those 48 hours that have taken on mythical proportions. KA and I have discussed it – not as an opportunity to have sex, though that is inherent, but as an opportunity to “be” gay. I have posted on my least favorite place – CL – and amid the chaff appear to have found some wheat. I am trying to avoid my comfort zone – dinner with a 51 year old bi-MWM would be easy and nice but feels like a mirror.

I am trying to stretch – have an evening, drinks in public, conversation, flirting. I am actively working to make this happen. Ultimately the bottom line has not changed – I need to play this out, to learn who I am. My wife understands that this road while fraught with risk is ultimately the road I must walk; I pray this will be the road that leads home.

This morning I told KA she is my anchor and after some thought had to consider the Freudian view (we were having a Freudian morning). Does an anchor keep one from drifting or just hold one back. I clearly meant the former, but...

It is strange – I wrote the title for this post a week ago and the title is all that remains. Someday I will figure out what I “be”, but in spite of my hideous whining and backsliding, I do feel growth and I do appreciate all the support this blog world lends me. Thanks guys.