Tag Archives: gay and married

Hello….it’s me.

Well, where has time gone?  I really can’t fucking say.  My life today is much different than it used to be.  I’m happy.  Very happy.

I don’t know if anyone is going to read this.  But, when I was blogging more regularly it really helped me sort things out.  There are always things to sort out in life.  I know some people are in the spot I was in 7-8 years ago.  However, there seems to be much more support for the gay community now than there was just that short time ago.

I have so much going on in my life right now.  I don’t plan to post on a regular, weekly basis.  But, I do feel that I still have people to help.

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Where do I start?

I really have no idea where to begin.  I used to post so regularly.  I had lots of readers at one time.  I made some real friends here.  I can name five people off the top of my head whom I keep in contact with who actually know my real identity.  They have been very helpful.  And what I hope most, is that making friends with them will be an inspiration to those of you who are reading because you feel like I once felt….nearly five years ago – like you’re alone and you want to die.

So much has changed and if I tried to catch you all up at once, this would be the novel I’m trying to write.  So, I’ll just start small.  I haven’t gone back and read all of my previous posts, just the last few.  I will have to update “The Players” over on the right hand side of this blog.

I want to say to those of you who have found this blog recently, and who’ve read every post and commented or sent me a message because you recently found out your husband is gay – there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  I promise.  I swear to you, it will get better.  It will be, quite possibly, the hardest fucking thing you’ve ever done.  But, it will get better.  Do not let anyone influence the decisions you and your husband will make regarding your family and marriage.  That will be very hard.  But I think it’s very important.

Don’t read this blog if you’re here to judge me.  I don’t need that.  I’m hard on myself already, and hell, this is MY blog.  What I write is 100% true.  You can’t make this shit up.  I’ve always written from the heart and I’ve always been honest.  I’m opinionated, liberal, and open minded.  But I do have feelings.  And, I haven’t completely healed.

Come back soon.  I will…….

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March 10, 2012 · 11:47 pm

Stats

I haven’t posted in a long time, and I rarely check in here.  But lately, I’ve had a lot on my mind so I’ve been lurking on WordPress and visiting some of my old blogroll.  I check my stats and my views have been up lately.  I have no idea why…..is it National Coming out to Your Wife Month or something?  Anyway, I’m working on a couple of posts.  But I’d like those of you who are reading to tell me why you’ve been visiting lately.  Thanks.

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Just forget about it

I read my last post.  My god, it’s kind of depressing isn’t it?  My.  Well, sometimes I write well and that was a very accurate description of what I was feeling. And quite an accurate portrayal of the situation.

Now, don’t over-react to what I wrote.  It sounds a bit dramatic to me.  I will admit, I’m concerned at times about my desire for alcohol.  Especially since I never drank before.

Does it feel better when I drink?  Sometimes.  Jay is not causing all of my pain.  I have some spiritual issues and some family issues that I’m dealing with as well.  If I drink I feel fun, happy, and woo-hoo.

I will stop.  I realize that I need to.  I realize that I have to.  But, telling you all (even though you don’t really know me) helps me feel better.  Otherwise I think I will explode with all of the thoughts and feelings bottled up inside me.  I have no one to tell but you.  I’m ashamed to tell my pastor.  I’m ashamed to tell my mom.  I’m ashamed to tell my best friend.  They will all ask why.

It’s simple.  I am not as strong as I thought I was.  God is showing me that.  He is trying to bring me to my knees to Him.

I’m not ready.

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My confession

I sat on the cold tile floor in front of the cabinet that holds our liquor.  I’ve been hot this evening so I just enjoyed the chill I got for a moment before quietly opening the door to the cabinet.  Sometimes I like the purposefulness of trying to be so very, very quiet.  All of your motions are slow and deliberate.  Having to think about each tiny move you make so as not to make any sort of sound arouses my senses.

With the cabinet open I sat for a minute to listen.  I looked at the pretty bottles and the collection of glasses I would have to slowly and deliberately move to get to what I wanted.  My child moved in her room next door but she didn’t get up.  I took out the shaker and sat it on the bar.  I removed two double shot glasses and sat them next to me.  I took out a bottle of vodka and sat it aside.  I looked in the cabinet to see where things were before I blindly started digging around and knocking over glass.  My dear bottle of Crown was towards the back but not hard to get.  I took it out and noticed where the amount of liquor hit the label.  Not that I would ever add water back to a bottle of whiskey that cost nearly $30 but I wanted to know if what I was about to drink would be noticeable.

Now I have never had Crown straight up before.  But this afternoon as I sat in my car sobbing it’s just about all I could think about.  But as I started to put the things I’d removed back in the cabinet before pouring myself a glass (the last thing I needed was for someone to get up and see all these liquor glasses sitting in the floor – it would be easier to quickly hide one bottle if I heard someone coming) the vodka seemed more tempting.  It’s cobalt blue bottle shined in the light from the patio doors outside.  I held it up – there was a lot more of it than there was of my precious Crown.  I thought about how much I enjoy a Crown and Coke and how if I made myself sick on the Crown tonight I’d likely never want a Crown and Coke again.

I had to get up and wash a shot glass.  I barely turned the kitchen faucet on and decided a rinse in cold water would be enough.  A little dust wouldn’t hurt me.  But I’m a lady and I need a clean glass.  I rinsed and dried it several times.  Procrastinating to see if I could hear anyone awake.  I ran the glass full of water to see how many swallows it would take me to get it all down.  Practicing before I put the real stuff in.  I wanted to be able to swallow all of the vodka at once and this was a big shot glass.  After three tries I figured out where to pour the vodka to so that I’d be able to just take one big gulp.  Two fingers from the bottom.  I sat down again and opened the bottle.  I smelled it although I did not expect to smell anything.  I stuck my finger in the liquid and tasted it.  I got up one more time and cradled my glass like a MIng vase.  I walked into the hall to peer into my daughter’s room.  I then turned around to look in my son’s room.  I went in and felt his chest.  Then I went back to my daughter’s room and kissed her.  I want them to be better than me.  Stronger than me.

I poured some.  I didn’t have to courage to take the big gulp.  Just like I don’t have to courage to leave.  Just like I don’t have the courage to run my car off the road.  Just like I don’t have the courage to tell my friends that I think I might have an alcohol problem can they help me please before it gets worse and I end up in some clinic and my kids are ashamed of me and my husband leaves me not because he’s gay but because I’m a drunk and I look like an old hag and smell of hard liquor all the time.

I tasted it slowly.  My first tiny swallow burned my throat.  Ick.  But that stopped and what I was left with was a pleasant tingling tongue and lips.  Another tiny sip.  The burning was less.  The tingling was better.  A little voice (probably the devil himself) said that if I just drink it all the tingling will be inside me instead of just on my lips.  Like and orgasm.  I haven’t had one in a while it seems……..

I cried.  I put my head in my hands and cried.  I asked God what I should do.  Should I tell my husband how much it hurts?  Should I tell him I need him and the physical affection even more than I realized?  Should I tell him I need him to make love to me?  I asked God to give me strength and to take away this temptation.

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I don’t understand why temptation seems to come at you more frequently when you are already down and feeling like shit.  For instance, I was not a drinker before Jay came out.  I never ever remember serious opportunities arising for a casual sexual encounter without my husband knowing until now.  I could so easily fulfill my need for physical pleasure right now with a man I came very close to sleeping with once in my life and Jay would never know about it.  What sucks is I don’t think Jay would care.  That’s why it’s not worth it.

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Tuesday Mornings

I just feel like the most un-sexual being on earth right now. This is kind of a big deal to me since I happen to enjoy sex a lot and participate in it 3-4 times a week. After having a hysterectomy the rule is nothing in the vagina for six weeks. Now believe me, I plan on participating in non-vaginal sex before my six weeks are up but I’m just not ready yet.

So Jay and I had gotten into a little habit we like to call “Tuesday Mornings.” We are both up on Tuesday mornings early enough since I also work on Tuesdays. So, we have sex real quick basically before he walks out the door. It takes no longer than 5-6 minutes but it’s actually a great way to start the day. We’re both freshly showered and groomed and Jay is already dressed which is kind of a turn-on for me. My hysterectomy was on Tuesday last week. You bet we had our “Tuesday Morning” that day at about 6 a.m. before leaving for the hospital. I knew we wouldn’t be having sex for six weeks so there was no way I was passing it up. Jay was more than happy to oblige. But this Tuesday, our actual 13th anniversary, there was no sex. I missed it. I mentioned it to Jay just to see him smile, but we both knew there was no way anything sexual was going to happen.

I haven’t asked Jay what he has to think about to be able to orgasm that quickly. I imagine it’s some 22 year old well-hung grad student but I try not to think about that. I’m enjoying it so big deal. I can’t orgasm that quickly unfortunately but it’s still satisfying to me. I’m on a shitty antidepressant/anti-anxiety medication that I’ve been on for awhile and it has sexual side-effects and one of those is that it takes me like 20 minutes to get there (not all the time but most of the time). I’ll probably last about five minutes in about four weeks when I get to have intercourse again.

Back to my un-sexuality. I walk in the living room after a shower tonight, pulling a T-shirt over my naked breasts and I say “At least my breasts are still here.” Jay barely looked up from his laptop. (He’s always enjoyed my breasts very much – odd for a gay man maybe but now that I say that I remember Jack from Will and Grace  was a real breast-man too.) This made me feel great. I just finished washing my stitched up gut and examining my bruises so I already felt good about myself. Jay and I always sleep in bed together. I like to be able to touch him in the night and hold his hand. I’ve slept on the couch a lot since coming home from the hospital for comfort reasons and Jay sleeps on the couch that is right next to me. But, we can’t reach each other so I feel lonely. I think that not being able to be intimate with Jay has made me feel excluded from his life. Things have been busy because he is working and has to come home and take care of the stuff that I can’t do right now. He is still chatting with his on-line friend which is fine with me but normally when he is done I get to lie close to him and even get a good fuck now and then so we re-connect. So, I’m jealous. He loves his chats with Nate (and I love Nate) so I don’t want him to put those on hold just because I’m moping. But I just miss the intimacy I have grown accustomed to. Especially Tuesday mornings.

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Recovery Sucks…..Part 2

Last night I could not fall asleep.  Jay and I went to bed at 11 p.m.  I got in bed and was freezing.  I got a heavy blanket.  It didn’t work.  I pulled up our heavy comforter.  Still freezing.  I tried to scoot closer to Jay to use his body heat but I didn’t want to wake him up since he worked a long day.  So I moved to the sofa.

I took my pillow and blanket and got all curled up.  Soon, I was sweating.  I pushed off my blanket and turned on the TV.  That didn’t make me sleepy.  I was shaky and wiggly and I thought if I just took one pain pill it would help me sleep.  But I’ve been trying to get off of them and hadn’t had one in 24 hours.  Can you become and addict so quickly?  I was paranoid that perhaps I was going through withdrawals or something.  I’ve never been a drug addict so I don’t know what it’s like but no matter the cause of my insomnia, I stayed away from the pain meds.

So after TV, computer, reading (I’m reading a great book by the way called Trumpet by Jackie Kay that I’m going to write a post about), taking a hot bubble bath at 4 a.m., massaging my own legs, more TV, and praying to God to let me sleep, I fell asleep.  It was around 5 a.m.

Maybe it’s because my schedule is all messed up.  Whatever.  I got up at 8 a.m. this morning so I wouldn’t sleep too long and hopefully I’ll get to sleep tonight.

Things I learned today:  1)  I look pregnant  2)  my handbag is heavier than I thought (it’s a Coach)  3)  I should not be pushing a grocery cart around even though it might be empty and only have a package of Ziploc bags in it  4)  there are hundreds of stitches inside me that will take longer to heal than the outside of my body  5) it’s as hot as the depths of hell here in Oklahoma right now  6)  elastic waist pants are my new best friend.

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