Homosexual Experience Cheating on My Wife

2521 Words6 Pages

I grew up in a very 'non-visibly gay' part of the country: The Midwest. Worse even- I hail from a staunch evangelical family. Before now, my parents had never known anyone openly gay. This completely rendered my formative exposure to a minimum. I also grew up without cable, which does indeed retard my adulthood pulp conversations. My ideas of homosexuality were predominately characterized by Ernie and Bert on Sesame Street and Jack Tripper from Three's Company, whose character only pretended to be gay to get cheap rent. There was also a neighbor boy on Too Close For Comfort, whom was just assumed to be gay, but was never outed.

When I was twelve and thirteen I latched on to role-model boys. The pictures I choose to put beside my bed were that of Danny Pintauro from Who's the Boss, and Chad Allen from Our House and later Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. How was I supposed to know that they were both going to end up as the flaming friends of Judy? (Gay) How was I supposed to know that numerous conversations with Chad fifteen years later would be absolutely key in my decision to come out to my family.

Sexual identity wasn?t something I had any sense about until the past few years. I was a ?late bloomer? some might say, but somehow it worked, just awkwardly timed. My first visit to a gay bar came at a very untimely period about a year and a half into my marriage with my ex-wife. There was so much of the world I didn?t know about. I was walking blindly, but seeking eagerly. My first marriage happened from ages twenty-one and lasted until I was twenty-five. I really gave it an honest try, but it just didn?t work. It became apparent to me rather quickly that the situation of my marriage was more than a bit obtuse, but once...

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...s that I just lost it all over a small television screen for a nameless leather-bear, and I wanted to do it again. I had raced with this burning for years, but it was now beginning to win. Now, I didn?t want to stop it. I crept closer every minute to coming out. Everything was on the verge of just going so very wrong.

As I stepped through the doors onto the street, I thought about the guy that had walked me there from the bar: he looked out for me. He was kind and caring, yet reserved. I wondered if I would ever see him again. Who knows, I would love to run into him again. If you see a single, Jewish man in his early 30?s, who is talking about coming back to Philly, tell him I said ?hello and thanks?. If I ever want to look him up I should probably start with the carpenter?s union. Did I mention that he grew up in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania? Seriously.

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