There have been many late night talks over the last seven months, much ground covered, painful topics exposed. So last night should have just been one more in this ongoing series, but it was not. It rates capitals I fear.
On Friday I was feeling the pull – it has been a month since I have been with a man and I found myself cruising CL, creating a login for Match.com: not acting per se, but looking half-heartedly. My new FWB (friend with benefits) will be back from vacation next week, so need to do anything rash. Still, busy as hell, there I am taking a few minutes to “cruise”.
Last night we lay there and Carrie says you were really thinking about being with a man Friday at work: you really wanted it. I am stunned, I am quiet, I admit. I ask, what makes you say it and she explains - little things which do not seem to be so telling. But ultimately she saw right through me, right through the telephone wires and she was right.
A few posts ago I alluded to when Carrie and I first came together. The freedom of our love, which allowed her to start to see her past, also affected me. You must understand that Carrie came to our relationship as close to virginal as any married woman with two kids could be. She and her first husband procreated but never recreated. So all I wanted seemed normal to her. Doesn’t every man want dildos in his ass, to be taken by his wife? Doesn’t every man want to kiss after being blown so he can share the cum? Enough said. The point is clear: I had found a woman where I could, without ever admitting it to myself or to her, be Gay. And it worked for both of us for a long time.
It stopped working on two counts. My needs increased – the fantasy that puts you over the top once, twice, a hundred times, eventually is not enough. And Carrie grew in so many ways in our time together. She did not want to continue as a stand-in for a man. What worked for an insecure girl is way too much to ask of a real woman with a real ego.
So we lay in bed and she points out that I would like to be with a man – hugging and spooning, my tongue feeling his. I am quiet. I am hard. The quiet speaks volumes; Carrie knows I could never lie.
We lay in bed and she tells me I will not find faith - that would require letting go. I consider my recent post – she sees through me. She tells me of my lack of connections with her, with the children, with my world. She tells me things I know. I am quiet. I am saddened.
Lying there, wanting her still, I wish to be simply gay or simply straight, so much simpler than being bi. The pull of the gay is so powerful as Friday proved. It just refuses to go back in its box – closets are lonely places. So bi as I am, the journey must continue as gay.
Recently I have felt like I was being shoved – by Carrie and my sister (a biological one) – out the door. Last night it was different, like a young chick being nudged from the nest. Neither of us knows what I will find and both realize I may be sadly disappointed. We both know that this path may lead me back home. We also both know that it may lead me away.
But a life of Fridays – cruising CL – that is not healthy. No lifetime of lunchtime hookups – I have already admitted to needing a friendship, a relationship of sorts. Carrie tells me any answer is alright. If I do not require acting on my gayness, she could go on forever. If not, we will need to make decisions. But the decision for a life of “lunches” may be different than my finding a boyfriend. Sooner or later, there will have to be decisions.
One thing is clear: I cannot have my cake and eat it anymore. Carrie will share a home with me, she will share a life with me, and she will even share a bed with me. But she is no longer willing to share her body with me, not as long as I am sharing my body with another.
We have devoted the weekend to preparing the basement for the return of our daughter and fiancé while they save for a house of their own. It will be a three room suite; we are creating a mini-kitchen for their morning toast and coffee. It is coming out quite well. And all the while I keep thinking, will this be my home in another year? If they were not moving in, would this be my home even sooner.
Carrie tells me all I need is to say one thing from my heart – that I accept being gay and accept not acting on it. Such a simple thing: but I lay there as a mute, unable to utter either phrase. There is an excitement I suppose, but I am having trouble finding it at this moment.