I honestly don't know the meaning behind dreams – whether they're because of the subconscious, or for something God wants to tell us, like He did for people in the Bible. Are dreams, in part, resulting from what's happened to us, things that we need to relive, or are they something altogether different?
Even if all the sexual stuff with men is wrong in God's eyes, I still just want to be with a man physically from time to time. Is that wrong too? Does God really care if I share my bed with another guy, as long as there's no sex?
I honestly didn't think I'd write anything else about my mom, basically feeling as if I'd said it all the first time around. But turns out I was wrong. I've had some health issues through the years, including six strokes. I had a session with a psychiatrist, telling her how my mom and sisters are the direct cause of my stress, making my catatonic episodes worse each time.
I found myself getting sucked into a world of fantasy. Porn was way better than watching some blockbuster: I could still be with guys without actually being with them. After all, I never cared about those guys anyway. It was all about me and getting off. The more I watched porn, the more I was hooked.
I was so afraid of what people thought of me that I was willing to hide who I was from family, friends, the world – and to some degree, myself. I was willing to live a life of lies to be accepted. I explained that's just how things were back then. Sadly, some people are still living this way.
I'd already been with German guys, so I thought it was a good idea see what guys from other countries were like. I figured the chances of ever again being with other guys from that many countries would be slim. The sad part about having sex with all these men was that I never once gave thought to my relationship with God. It was all about me and those European men.
Like most of you reading I begged, cried, yelled, and tried to "pray the gay away," only to have it all go ignored. For years I thought God ignored me. And if He didn't care about me, why should I acknowledge Him and His Son?
I had sex for the first time on May 3, 1979. Funny how you always remember your first. It was with my sister's best friend. I was 17; she was 16. Everyone in the neighborhood swore we were already having sex, but we weren't. I really wasn't interested in her or any other girl for that matter; even if I was, I wouldn't have known what to do anyway.
All I wanted was to live a fantasy every weekend: to believe that some man wanted me. That he loved me just so I could take my mind off all the negative things I felt about myself. After 29 years of living that life and never once finding happiness or love, God in His own way brought me back to Him and the church. However, I also started experiencing added health issues.
How many of us have decided not to come out to our fathers because we knew it wouldn't go well? How many have been wrestling with the idea of telling our fathers for fear of the unknown? And how many of us have already come out to our fathers, a topic never again spoken about?