Sorry to keep you waiting on this subject. I haven't had a chance to sit down and collect my thoughts about this. I came to the realization in increments around back in 2000. After an approach from an extremely attractive lady named Julie and my second go-around with Carolyn, there was some deep irrational fear buried there. And a deep depression. As if I knew that if I WAS going to be with women in an effort to be so-called NORMAL, I would be living a lie, burying my true self. Then in November of 2000, I was working with a colleague out of town when the urges started coming up...You know...fawning over men that I thought were attractive. The realization wouldn't go AWAY, much as I tried to PUSH it away, to shut it out. I fought it and fought it...It fucked my mind up so much that I sought therapy and I was knocked into the manic depressive-state that BOTH of our moms are so famous for. I literally thought I was going crazy. I gradually came to terms with it with the help of good friend. Liam, Ray, and surprisingly, your mom...being raised a Catholic, I thought she would have been completely FREAKED. But she said to me..."It doesn't matter. You're my brother."
So during the therapy, I was prescribed some meds which have worked well to this day. (I believe your mom was also on Celexa.)
One particular incident that I found ironic. My dad doesn't know. Or doesn't let ON that he knows. But when I was in the throes of denial, I was up in Quebec visiting him. We were visiting my uncle's camp. It's a haunt where the menfolk usually go to take a break from being husbands, have a beer(or twenty), and just shoot the breeze. So a couple of my uncles were there, some of their friends...and this tall, white-haired, virile lumberjack-suited type. I kept looking at him and then jerking my head away. I was ATTRACTED to him...I was in torment trying to deny it. ("noNoNO...Not ME! I'M NOT GAY! I DON'T WANT TO BE GAY! I DON'T WANT TO BE THE FREAK AGAIN!")
So dad I are driving back to his camp and I casually inquired about the new face that was at the camp.
"You mean, de queer?"
"That guy likes men."
"Up here in THE BACKWOODS?"(Hoping that I don't sound too aghast.)
"Yeah. He doesn't have a girlfriend but it's general knowledge that he likes men."
Blew MY mind. I would have thought that such a concept would have been anathema out there in the sticks.
So basically, most people in my life know. (George and Cindy don't. Jennifer does.) In the end, the person hardest on me was MYSELF during this whole thing. I learned about identity and expected behavior. I realized that I didn't HAVE to like Broadway showtunes or interior decorating. Or talk with a lisp. As a matter of fact, effeminate queen types make me roll my eyes. (Bear in mind, I believe that sexuality is a spectrum and not a line of rigid behavior-boxes. I think that swishy men can't HIDE their feminine traits so they amp them up, camp them up and use them as an armor. I'd probably do the same thing.) I've experimented with a various run of men along the way and as of this writing, I'm in some kind of a relationship with a local man. A good man. He's a kind, gentle, generous soul and I'm the first man he's ever been with. I don't know of this relationship's eventual outcome but for now, it feels good. Honesty and communication is key. Because the mindgames and drama out in the gay-male world makes you want to stay celibate, relegate the rest of your life to a series of one-night stands or late night pleasuring sessions in front of a computer-screen.
So there you have it. The annotated version. Any questions you may have, please let me know. There was a time that I desperately wished someone could wave a magic wand and I'd be heterosexual..."normal". Now, I wouldn't change a thing. Because a huge puzzle-piece has slipped into place. Growth and change is always ongoing,(like deprogramming myself from my mom's influences) but that was a big quantum leap for me.
My walk along the path continues...