Today I wondered – where was I one year ago? Easy enough to see – read my blog. So I go back to mid-March 2006 and there it is: “Denial, Sweet Denial” and I wonder can it be that I have spent so much time, so much energy – and taken so many of you with me (today we broke 20,000 hits) just to be in the same place as a year ago.
So much of my life is based on my sexuality, but I am so careful of writing about it, as if I can maintain this on a higher plane. So tonight a couple of stories, stories about sex.
I have referred to my late night visits with the blue glow of my computer monitor. Sometimes the glow is G-Mail and others my blog. But there are other places, particularly queerclick.com and squirt.org. For the uninitiated squirt.org could be considered the Craig’s List M2M listings on steroids. It has profiles, bulletin boards, and an area to see who else is on line trolling through the night.
Now there is only so much you can look at queerclick and squirt before even they get old. But sort of like a bad movie, I keep coming back for more. And one night an IM pops up, a local guy. We chat for a while – our living arrangements, our shared knowledge of the nicest short stay motel, and yes, what are we into. This is fun and a bit exciting. Finally we bid each other a good night with a shared acknowledgement that we are both going to bed, both going to masturbate to the thoughts of our conversation. And for the first time in a few weeks, I masturbate and the orgasm is substantial, the body shuddering as I cum and cum again.
Of course, the level of excitement is not wasted on me. Pictures are okay, videos even better, but the contact, albeit not in person, with another man made the difference, added the layer of reality which translated into real pleasure.
Another story, because I am quick to balance the gay with the bi: I have not written of the fact that over the last few months Carrie and I have had the occasional sexual encounter – fuckbuddies. The first one or two were tainted by my turning the sexual encounters into the hope of a new beginning, a resurrection that will – that should - never be. But we have talked and gotten beyond that – even I know there is now no going back.
This weekend was wonderful – honest talking, a last minute gift of tickets to a Broadway play, and a family Sunday, the four of us enjoying the beautiful day and each other. That late afternoon the children went to a birthday party and Carrie and I had an early dinner and with the understanding of no pressure and no false facades, we went home and hopped into bed.
A funny thing happened on the way to the forum. I did not realize it fully until after, but looking back, it is sort of clear. We hop into bed – well she hops in and is waiting for me, sans clothing. I join her, but I am not particularly hard, I am not really there. I suppose I am successful – I did cum, but it was perfunctory – not because of her, not because of anything she did.
At first I point out that we had been drinking. Carrie looks at me – a pint of Black and Tan and one Perfect Manhattan? That might be considered a tune-up by our standards, a buzz but surely not debilitating. But I masturbated the night before, more than once – I did not realize that I was going to get lucky. Carrie again looks at me – twelve hours to recharge, a fucking lifetime by our history.
The thing is that after nearly twenty years of being together, after more sex than I can start to add up, Carrie knows me, knows me intimately, knows me well. There is an explanation, a simple enough one at that. As she phrases it: I have crossed over, what once was bi is now gay. She is just amazed that I seem to be the last one to figure it all out, to realize that the days of Kinsey threes and fours are a mirage in the rear view mirror, I am into the higher numbers now.
So it has been a year since I wrote of denial and I have devoted the year past to turning it into an art form. It has not been a pretty picture – a necessary one, a journey that needed to be taken, but no, not pretty. Today I tell these stories because I have learned the importance of writing the posts I do not want to, of sharing what seems too personal: it is necessary because it is hard to deny what is written, what is real.
As I drove to my therapist today, I heard:
You don't know where you're goin',
But you know you won't be back
Tomorrow I will be seeing an old friend – kindergarten to be exact – for our annual few minutes. He will ask how I am. I will answer, honestly and fully. Will it be easy – I don’t rightly know, but it will ultimately feel good. Over the next months there will be more of these moments, as the closet walls start to recede, as the lies come to an end.
It is undeniably hard to head off into a new world, one without markers and maps, but at this point my choice is simple – to learn, albeit slowly and with small steps, to embrace who I am or to wither and die. I choose to embrace. I choose life.
Call heaven and earth to witness against you this day,
that I have set before thee life and death,
the blessing and the curse;
therefore choose life, that thou mayest live, thou and thy seed.