For the longest time I felt afraid about the locker room setting. Part of my fear and shame came from body-image issues, as I was the "fat kid" most of my life. Part of my fear also came from my same-sex attraction – the fear for potential arousal. I was curious how the other guys looked but also ashamed and scared to be around them or be seen in my nakedness.
I understand: this phrase could be my life's motto. God has given me great ability as an empath to feel what others feel, even when I completely disagree with them. I'm not sure who first said it but the phrase, your greatest strength can also be your greatest weakness, rings true here.
He was sitting there waiting for me, like usual. My pastor asked if I was okay, though he knew I wasn't. He could tell I was an emotional wreck, that I needed to get some stuff off my chest. I felt numb, this deep despair inside me, like all my energy had escaped me. I only had enough to meet with him on this particular day.
And so, as we walked through a local park, barely past our first month of dating, I told her about my same-sex attraction. I told her of my failed dating history, that I wasn't sure I could be attracted to women, that most men who were SSA, despite years of prayer and trying to make things work, would not be attracted to women and that my SSA would possibly never go away.
I usually head to porn when I'm stressed, anxious, confused, tired. My counselor once asked me if I go to porn to feel power, to be in control. My first response was no — I don't feel powerful at all when I seek out porn. I feel weak and helpless. But maybe there is a control aspect to my porn usage.
I've had at least a decade to process my sexuality, why certain men "do it" for me and why others do not. I've already written about what kinds of guys I'm attracted to and my cycles of physical and emotional same-sex attraction. But am I sexually attracted to men? The answer has become so clear over the last couple years: no.
After about a year, the little gay boi in the closet started knocking again and wanted to come out. The desire to be known started to germinate from that dark, cold, humid corner. The next person placed on my heart to tell was my mom. From my point of view, we weren't that close and I didn't feel very loved. Coming out to my mom was probably the hardest coming out I had to do.
One night, I had a sexual dream about one of the male cabin leaders. I didn't want my past to ruin the summer and my connections with the other male staff. On several previous occasions, telling my story had helped me break down some of the awkwardness I felt. So, I grabbed the cabin leader supervisor and shared my story with him.
The seemingly deepest parts of my life are on display for the world to see. And yet there are a few things that I keep close — secret — from those closest to me. Because I am afraid of being vulnerable with them. I'm not talking about "coming out" — I'm talking about the matters at my very core that influence my actions in ways few could ever imagine.
I've pretty much always been attracted to guys in one manner or another. Some times more obsessively and explicitly than others. Some times more emotionally than physically. And for whatever reason, never sexually.