Hello. It's me.
I've (infrequently) used this forum to post about my exploits, my challenges, my desires, and sometimes my fears. Today, it's a bit more historical and hopefully meaningful.
Being a bi married guy in small town Iowa isn't easy. I know my gay brethren are rolling their eyes and clucking at me, and rightfully so. But I hope that things have changed in our society to allow them to feel more open and fulfilled with their lives than 20 or 30 years ago (or more). My challenge is from my choice, to marry and raise a family, and stick with them to see it through, while battling my own inner desires. And while the stigma of being bisexual isn't as severe as others, and while I'm in a very accepting and supportive workplace, it's complicated by the idea that infidelity magnifies any choices I make.
I've made poor choices, and some would say continue to do so. I've been found out by my partner, and dealt with repercussions that shook our family foundation to the core. I've worked with multiple therapists to uncover what's really going on, and my amateur therapist wife with her own theories. I go through long periods of self hatred and flagellation, usually following a misstep in my plan to be a good, stable, monogamous husband.
For some reason, way back in the early 2000s, I chose to share my situation with a coworker. Something about her felt accepting, comfortable, understanding. Why did I do this? I can recall the exact place this happened, and still think about it as I walk through that office today. Not necessarily the place you would pick to share something so personal. Busy, noisy, bustling, but with enough people around that could overhear any conversations (and probably would LOVE to know more about everyone's private life). My stomach just jumped into my throat just thinking about that conversation.
What did I get in return? Exactly the right thing. A caring, supportive friend that has been a sounding board and a confidant for nearly 20 years of my life. Someone who has been there as I've struggled with my issues, to listen, to advise, to compliment the bulge in my khakis. I'm not sure where I would be without her. OK, probably living in an apartment turning tricks for donut money. But that's beside the point.
As often happens, our paths diverged. She tired of small town life, small town people pulling a Gladys Cravitz and sticking their nose through the curtains to be sure they knew who was walking up to each door in the neighborhood. So she moved on, to the big city of Des Moines, where you can hide in plain sight. Closer to her family, her support, her loving parents and darling niece. Where she can visit her son after work. I get it. But since this is all about me...it sucks.
I miss our daily banter. I miss being able to accidentally bump my dick into her shoulder. Being able to make her laugh that big laugh. But mostly I miss knowing that if I'm struggling, sad, lonely, mournful, or just need a boost, a trip to her cubicle would help me get through it.
Now she faces a challenge. A big, fat, ugly, stupid challenge that way to many people, way to many families have to face. And I want nothing more than to walk into that office and hug the living shit out of her. But mostly, I want her to know how important she has been for me for most of my adult life. And though we haven't spoken in person for, what, six months, and really had a chance to sit and talk for years, it would be the most natural thing in the world to sit down today and start right back up.
So to you, Lippzy, your sonshine, your hot mom, your daddy, and your darling niece...know that I am thinking about you, sending all the strength I can muster...and know I love you all.
