As a kid, I said a lot of derogatory things about LGBTQ+ people. I cringe at the things I remember saying. When I realized I was gay, all of that hatred that I showed to others turned in on myself. That realization drove me to reparative therapy. The logic makes sense: I hate gay people, I am gay — thus, I need to not be gay.
Eryk had no spouse, no children, no parents, and only a distant half-sister. Eryk became dangerously depressed, and no one was close enough to effectively do anything about it. I can certainly put myself in Eryk's place and understand how he could become depressed. But I didn't take the time and effort to notice and take action.
As addicts often do, Jake used my older friend Jeremy's sexuality to manipulate him.
"We want you to help us reach LGBT people," my pastor said. "It's our belief that this is your true calling. And we want to help you."
I told my best friend that I had literally just come from gay sex in another man's bed. I'd found him on the Internet, then regretted it. I needed support.
Before I was even dating or at all interested in my wife, I had sex with another man. I have regretted this decision every day of my life since.
I saw I was faced with a stark choice: it was gay sex or Jesus Christ, a relationship with one or the other, but not both.