Much of my formative years, my young adulthood, was clouded by being a brother. Not to my sisters, I was born into that role, but to women: girls, my age. Even in this blog world, I have met many people but the true find is a woman – ironic for a bi/gay blogger – a woman who is my “sister” and I her “brother”. All those girls – wonderful friends, easy relationships, but one little problem: I was not looking for a sister; I just wanted to get laid. I wanted lovers.
I grew up surrounded by women. My Dad I am sure meant well, but he went to work, he came home. I was a late in life child and as I realize as a late in life father myself, the energy is not the same. So Bob points out my father was absent and at first I want to protest, but as I consider it, he is right. Old school, emotions not shared: a stiff upper lip. Even as my Dad faced death, no talk of his life, no joys or regrets, no new found religion. Buttoned to the end.
Facts known to me forever, but now to be looked at in a new light. Bob is fascinated by the tableau – a chosen son surrounded by women: “Drowning in a sea of woman”. So I am comfortable with women – a wonderful thing when one is 52, maybe not so good when one is 22. I am capable of true friendships with women – foremost among them Carrie.
But where are the men. My father was “missing” and on some level so are the men. With few exceptions, there are no male friends, no “bowling” nights with the boys. Socialization at work - absolutely, but it does not translate past those doors.
But wait, I can have male friends, male relationships. It might require being on my knees, but it sure feels good. And here is where I get stuck in that knot. I see where the therapist is going – I really do – and it makes sense.
But even if I grasp what drove me to my knees, how does one separate the pleasure. Is the pleasure all tied up in the psychology – the bonding, the power – or is it a matter of hard wiring – the physical pleasure of a dick in my mouth.
The answer is I do not have a clue.
A short session today, but so much to it.
Who Am I
- Nate
- I'm a middle aged man - separated and finally accepting, and yes, even embracing, being gay. My alter-ego Bibydays started this blog as a bisexual married man. One day I realized that Bibydays was just not an accurate description in so so many ways: Nate was born. Turns out there is much more to issues of my orientation than I ever realized. My world at work while not closeted is still not truly open but my family and friends stand with me in the sunlight. This place, once my refuge, now becomes a place where I can come to write when I have something to say.
3 comments:
I am confused, is your shrink telling you that you are in your current situation because you had an absentee father? Humm...
Nate:
the artist Paul Cadmus [Kadmus?] said that homosexuality was at bottom a matter of envy. He painted a famous picture in which a gay man in a restaurant looks hungrily out the window at a serviceman, who is looking hungrily at a female prostitute he can't afford, while she looks hungrily in the window at the man at the restaurant table...
I have spent YEARS fending off the truths of psychology, and have come around to the point where I can give Freud and Jung and Adler their due without giving away the game. I think that there is no question that there is an unrequited love for the father in the make-up of many if not most gay men. There is, so Jung, the Good Father and the Evil Father, and they are both loaded for us. And some of us feel the need to do whatever it takes to bind that man to us...
Well, it may not be YOUR story; it's A story.
T@C
Keep talking.
I'm listening. But I'm not sure I'm agreeing.
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