Revisiting old posts again; I wrote on my old blog back in November 27, 2007;
I’ve been with my wife for over eight years and we’ve celebrated many things together. This week, I celebrated my 32nd birthday.
Throughout the course of the evening of my birthday, I’d managed to consume several Heinekens, ate some ribs and watched my home team win a well played hockey game. At least I thought it was well played. By then I was a bit tipsy so I can’t say with any certainty. The post-game festivities were going with my wife to a nearby pub to play some games and drink some more beer.
Nearing the end of the night, I’d managed to consume several more Heinies and was definitely drunk at this point. And then it came to me like a flash straight out of the blue. From where I really don’t know, all I know is that I had no fear in contemplating it nor carrying it out.
As she sat in front of the MegaTouch machine and at a low volume, which I remember being surprised that she could hear, I said “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She stopped playing and looked at me.
“I think I’m bisexual,” I said. Again, I had no fear about it. I’ve tried countless times to lead into saying this and every time common sense would stop me. All of those conversations we’d had in the past about her being disgusted by anal play or hypothetical situations about threesomes and extra-marital sex entered into my head and I would hesitate. This time, I didn’t care what she said or what she thought. It was something I needed to say.
Why, after eight years of keeping a secret, did I choose this moment to spill my guts to her and expose my deepest darkest secret? Perhaps I was hoping to overwhelm her. Perhaps I was hoping that she would be utterly disgusted or outraged. Perhaps, at all costs, I simply needed her to understand why I’ve been so unhappy. Maybe it’s all of the above.
Regardless of the reasons, it was said. It was out there. And she was completely in a state of shock. The only thing that she could manage to say was “What?”
And then it started to catch up with her. She’d realized what I’d said. And then, she needed a cigarette.
We went outside and talked as she smoked in a panicked frenzy. She asked me things like “have you ever acted on it?” or “how long have you known?” or “could you fall in love with a man?” I answered each question without fear. In order to save her feelings, I had to lie that I’d only only been with one guy and that it was a long time ago. I couldn’t even fathom how to tell her otherwise.
It became obvious that she would listen to me and still loved me but that she couldn’t really accept what I’d said.
