Welcome. Here we are. This is an update of my wild gay expedition after a tumultuous year on is perhaps not where I thought it would be, but, to be fair, dear reader, I don't think I really new where I wanted to go, so it's not surprise I'm where I am.
This time last year I was preparing to tell my wife I was gay. Since then it's been a bit of a crazy ride.
At first, my wife wouldn't talk to me. Even though she knew now much this process had affected me, she felt that whereas she had been cast adrift with no future, I had “invented” a while new future for myself – and she understandably resented me for it.
Their reactions had been everything from “so what” to “I'm proud of you” to “sorry, we can't hang out anymore” – that last one stung quite a bit.
On my side, I felt like I had been building up to this big reveal, I'd been through several difficult conversation with my (adult) kids, other relatives, friends and acquaintances. When I finally stopped, the result was – well – a bit of a let-down. Nothing had really changed, except that now everyone knew. Their reactions had been everything from “so what” to “I'm proud of you” to “sorry, we can't hang out anymore” – that last one stung quite a bit.
So here I was: a bit lost – again. I mean, now what? I joined some local meetups and met some people who although were quite nice, I felt guilty meeting every time knowing my wife was at home and not involved. I faced fairly chilly or non-committal conversation at home and I started to resent the whole thing. My daughter was being a good do-between, but it really wasn't fair on her.
This was a situation which was not working for either of us, so at my daughter's urging we went to couples counselling. My biggest fear was that my wife wouldn't talk, but she did. So did I. I found out I still love her, she's still my friend and best of all, it's mutual. We still actually get on quite well, it turns out. So we're still together – for the time being. It's not an “open” marriage, but I feel less constrained to be faithful now that there's no chance of sex at home – nevertheless, I haven't found anyone and I'm not actively looking or planning to be bad. If it happens, well, it happens.
My feeling is that despite going willingly into this new phase, we are growing apart. Things are not quite the same. We are relaxed around each other, we laugh, we watch cheesy TV together, I still cry at the sad bits and she still calls me a cry-baby. But essentially, something has understandably been lost. I wonder whether we're marking time until one of us finds someone else, or whether things will settle down and I'll come to the conclusion that nothing will happen for me on the sex front, and she ends up happy or at least content with the status quo. Again, who knows?
What I do know is that we're one of the rare couples who are still together a year on despite everything. And that's a good thing. In the next post, I'll write more about Paul and the re-emerging trauma.
