While considering what to write I realized that I could not remember what I last posted – that pesky senility again. Back to the internet, back to my own blog – a refresher. Then it became clear – I was not senile. I last wrote from my soul almost two weeks ago – tales of doing and being, stories of renouncing: I wrote and I felt.
There have been posts since then – stories of rabbits and razors. Fun enough and true enough – all true. As I wrote them I knew it was more than a pinky swear being fulfilled – it was not having to intellectually and emotionally work – a blog holiday while still posting. And yes – it was fun.
It was also a few weeks ago that I took a new stab at therapy. Now being I am perfect, therapy seems superfluous but I have enough grey matter left to realize that my deep seated belief in my perfection is the ultimate imperfection. I am sure in future posts we will be visiting with Bob: he is a keeper. He actually runs the sessions, asks questions – tough questions, and does not really care if I gave a bj last week or not. We are there to deal with the foundations, not the current window treatments.
Tonight is Rosh Hashanah – the Jewish New Year. It is the start of the Days of Awe, an eight day period culminating with Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement. Eight days to consider ones life – it is said that the book of life opens on Rosh Hashanah and closes on Yom Kippur – fates sealed for another year. It may sound harsh but au contraire: we have eight days to atone. Our definition of atonement… the sages tell us that before we can atone with God, we must first atone with those we have hurt – hurt by deed and hurt by word.
So I start the eight days and consider atonement. Now I believe I live a good life: there are wrongs – petty affairs, easily dismissed, easily corrected. But this year is different for it has now been a year – a year since I took the leap. A comment by Carrie and my response: yes she did imply sex with a man, but she envisioned a quickie, my ten year tune-up and back to our lives. So did I.
What was not predicted was the opening of a floodgate – months of sex with men. What was not predicted was that after five months I would have a need to share with her what I was doing. What was not predicted, though obvious in hindsight, was the fact that Carrie would regret it all – the comment, the men, the telling – in short everything.
So it is time for atonement. The problem is that to atone, one needs to regret. One needs to feel the wrongness of the acts. I feel the hurtfulness of the acts; I feel the pain I have caused. I understand aspects of the wrongness – infidelity is a powerful word.
But there is an implication in atonement that one would not repeat the act. While there are things I should have done differently, comments that should not have been made, in the quiet of my heart, I do not regret.
It has in some ways been the best of years – at least for me. A year ago I was a straight man living out homo-erotic fantasies, familiar with buddy booths, a denizen of anonymous sex. Today I accept, albeit grudgingly, that I am bisexual with a serious leaning towards my gay side. My wife, my siblings and select friends know. There are a dozen people in this world, in my life, who know who I am. It is not a frequent topic, but I feel honest with them and, more importantly, with myself.