28th September, 2008
Question
I am a 30 year old man who until recently has led an extremely 'straight' life - including a 9-year relationship with a woman I thought I loved. After a lot of emotional homework, I have now come to the realisation that I am gay. However, even as I write this, I feel extremely sad. I obviously have a bit of a way to go.
I realise, too, that I can't live a pseudo-life pretending anymore. But I'm terrified about coming out. I am not worried about people being disappointed in me, but as an only child I feel that my parents will be devastated. They often talk of their desire for grandchildren and their wish to see me settle down and be happy.
I still can't completely understand it myself, being gay I mean. How can you have a heterosexual love for so long, and then realise that your orientation is gay? More importantly, why do I have to choose between being gay and straight? Does this have to be so hard? Doesn't society badly need to recognise the complexity of sexual orientation?
Answer
It's seriously seductive to talk about society's attitudes. It's also an emotional side-step, or just plain dodging. The only story in town is how you see things. You suggest society should see that sexual orientation is complex. Don't you think you yourself should accept that sexual orientation is complex?
You had a relationship with a woman for nine years. Why do you say you only 'thought' you loved her? It was real enough at the time. Why this need to tidy it away as an emotional mistake? And why do you feel you're living a pseudo life, pretending? Why the imperative to 'come out'? Messy and difficult and confusing as it may be, you actually know yourself that sexual orientation is not always tidy. And it's not. It's just that people would like it to be, because that's easier to handle.
The point I'm making is that, in principle anyway, you don't have to choose between being gay and straight. What you do have to decide is how to live life as an honourable human being. That means you don't marry a woman and then be emotionally unavailable and sexually evasive. Many gay men have done that to hide - and still do. It breaks a woman's heart. That's not on.
People can, however, live heterosexual lives, while being conscious of the fact that there's a homosexual side to their nature. It's not any different to recognising that even as a married man you're capable of acknowledging the sexual attractions of other women. Being a faithful husband is not a matter of gay versus straight sensibilities. It's a question of kindness, love, respect and morality.
It's clear you need to talk to someone. For starters, what made you decide that you're gay? Did you fall in love with a man, have a sexual encounter, discover a taste for gay porn, or slowly realise that you find men attractive too? No, I'm not trying to challenge the validity of your personal insight. And yes, it is possible that you would now prefer to have a homosexual partner. I just think you need to work out exactly what you've discovered about yourself. And to do that, I suggest some professional input.
To fill the gap until you find a therapist, here are some thoughts you can mull over. It's fashionable to see sexual orientation as heredity. Personally I think it's a product of our emotional environment, our social experience, the way we've learned to fit in with the world around us. Sexual orientation is also a question of sexual preference rather than any absolute position. It's not rigid and fixed and the same for everyone either, as you are only too well aware. It's a sort of emotional continuum. Some men and women are unworriedly, unreflectively, comfortably and securely placed at either end - be it gay or straight. Others find themselves somewhere in the middle, consciously or unconsciously. The experts call that sexual ambivalence. I think it's just part of the human condition. And like much else in life, some people just handle it, while others feel acutely uncomfortable in their skin.
One final word. I'm sure your parents want grandchildren, and would be saddened if there were none. But is that, too, a bit of a distraction? Isn't there a painful truth nearer to home? Wouldn't you like children too, and all the trappings of heterosexual togetherness? And isn't that part of the emotional homework you need to do, namely facing up to the loss as well as the gain of getting familiar and comfortable with the real you?
