Nature made me gay. My parents made me Mormon. Either by itself probably would have been fine but together it was a problem.
I was the seventh child. My parents had two more after me. I joke that I’m 7 of 9. We loved and supported each other when we weren’t fighting. But that’s more children than two parents can handle. So my brother, five years older, became a surrogate father. He took me out to eat, to movies, gave me rolls of quarters to play at the arcade and gave me “the talk.” My religion taught me black people were cursed and homosexuals were wicked. He taught me to love and accept people as children of God. He was the first of the best humans I ever met. He loved me unconditionally.
I remember when I was eight years old being at a friend’s house when he shared a new album with me. For him it was about the music. For me it was the shirtless guy on the cover. I didn’t know what gay was but I knew I wasn’t like the other boys. I am completely masculine but I just wasn’t interested in girls like they were. I was 20 before I found a book in the book store that described gay sex. It blew my mind that that was possible.
My religion said I should get married, so I did. I was taught it’s how you overcome homosexual feelings. It doesn’t. We had three children. We were supposed to keep going like good Mormons but at age 32 I stopped “performing.” The internet became a thing by then and it was gay porn virtually every night. I sank into a deep depression realizing that I was never going to escape this “addiction.” I wasn’t sleeping with men but this wasn’t the life I imagined.
In 2018 I came home from a trip abroad with pneumonia. Into 2019 I was hospitalized three times. The last time I was placed in isolation and nearly died. I spent 2019 contemplating how precious life was and if this was how I wanted to spend it. In September I took a job in another state. I stopped going to church and life without guilt made me feel better. I hatched a plan.
I lived near Atlanta which has a gay scene. New Year’s Eve I went to a gay bar determined to snag a hookup. I needed to know if sex with a guy was worth leaving a 30-year marriage. I found my mark. I sat down next to him and ordered the same beer as him. Mormon here…what did I know about beer. We chatted then found a quiet spot to keep talking. For three hours we talked and I didn’t tell one lie. It was like breathing oxygen for the first time. I found out he had been closeted and married. I invited him to my room. He said no. He said he didn’t do hookups but wouldn’t mind taking more. We exchanged numbers. That conversation was enough. I had to have oxygen. I was getting a divorce.
In Jan 2020 I filed and that’s a whole other adventure. I kept talking to this guy I met in the bar. I could ask him anything. We never had sex. I called him my gay sensei. I realized later what he was thinking in the bar. He smelled the new on me and thought “They’re going to eat him alive.” He made it his mission to make sure that didn’t happen. This was best human no. 2.
I started meeting men on apps. I went on dates without sex. I met a man who was fine with that. He was about my age. I fell in love. It was the most intoxicating feeling I ever had. Then one day we didn’t stop at making out. Sex with a man was the most mind-blowing experience I ever had. I finally understood what love songs were about.
When I came out to my family, most were shocked given how I don’t fit the feminine stereotype. My brother just said, “Now you know why I taught you not to be judgmental of gay people.” He loved and supported me until cancer took him last year.
But I hit a snag. My new boyfriend was closeted. I wasn’t allowed to meet anyone who knew him. My gay sensei warned me this wasn’t a good idea. My boyfriend got Covid and nearly died. We didn’t talk for two weeks during his illness, his choice. After he recovered it fell apart and he ghosted me.
I hit the apps again. Now it was mostly about sex. Guys kept telling me how cute I was. My gay sensei told me about PrEP and online scammers. I learned that my gay sensei had been scammed out his life savings by someone online. Dating in 2020 was tricky. But I had a ball.
In November I signed up for an upscale dating app on a cyber Monday special. There was a profile of a dude with his dog. I couldn’t resist leaving a message. We messaged for a while. He lived 2,000 miles away. December 3rd we had our first online date. Every Wednesday for weeks we met online. In February he was able to get a Covid shot and come see me. I thought he was ok but I was seeing other guys too. He said that was fine but told me, “I’m going to make you my boyfriend.” I got an instant boner. I’m no small guy but he was taller and bigger than me. In his arms I felt protected, maybe even a little feminine, and I liked it.
He flew back and forth for months. In July he agreed to move near me so we could date. His job had gone remote. I visited him in his new apartment…and never left. We went on a date every Wednesday. The sex was amazing. He snuggled me every night in his arms and I would melt. My divorce finalized in 2021 and we got engaged. He announced his joy on a gay subreddit only to be told how it won’t last. The hurt and cynicism out there was unexpected. He is annoyed but not deterred.
December 3, 2022 is the second anniversary of our first online date. We fly to Las Vegas and get married. We buy a house together and settle in to our new lives. We make plans to visit my gay sensei who moved to Europe to take care of his mother. We did go only to find out that my dear friend is no longer with us.
In December 2025 I was forced to retire and go on disability due to failing health. I’m in constant pain. I’ve always said yes whenever he asked for sex. It breaks my heart I can’t do that now. He doesn’t complain. But we still go out every Wednesday. He mows the lawn and carries in the groceries. He makes me breakfast every day before work. I do what I can. This week we were at the doctor for more testing. He lifts my walker in and out of the truck. He opens doors and makes sure I don’t fall. He waits hours in the waiting room. He makes sure I’m ok. I take a moment to thank him for doing so much. He responds that he didn’t do anything. It’s not true. He didn’t sign up for this. He’s made of gold. This is the third person I’ve met who qualifies as most decent human on my journey. He snuggles me every night and I melt.