I hesitate to write about this. The shame is overwhelming and the pain of my choice can only be imagined by most of you.
I chose to be heterosexual. I…
:: deep breath ::
My background helped. My father was a strong, dominate man, my mother weak and ineffectual. I don’t blame them, of course, it was my choice and no one else’s, but they set the stage for what would come later.
It was back in 7th grade. I had a choice of hanging around with Kurt, a burly young man with pouty lips and the beginnings of a beard or Astrid, a young blonde-haired temptress with a elvin figure. She…kissed me. She was six months older than me and took advantage of my youth. We had a…relationship that turned into a sort of sexual emotional dependancy on each other. We called it “love”. Ha! What a perversion of the word.
Since I didn’t wear a pocket-hanky, I immediatly stood out in a crowd. God help me if I kissed a girl in public…I couldn’t allow myself to imagine such a thing. I risked being beaten or worse. Most of my teenaged school life was hell. I had to pretend to be interested in boys and comment on their tight butts or hairy chests. Most of my school days were spent in raw terror that I’d slip up and be caught glancing at a woman. I covered it up as best I could, but everyone suspected. I was constantly picked on by jocks who’d call me “pervert” and “het-boy”. The word “breeder” was thrown around more than once. The worst part was the locker room. God help me if I didn’t show interest in the other guys. I was so scared that I’d be found out that I didn’t shower after gym for a year.
When I escaped from High School, I went to college. People were a bit more open there, but I was still only tolerated by many of my gay friends, who claimed I was “flaunting” my sexuality simply because I look at or hold hands with a woman.
I regretted my choice. I hated my lifestyle and I wasn’t too fond of myself.
So I went to a conversion clinic. The first thing they did was validated and reaffirmed my self doubt and dislike, pointing out that most animals only have heterosexual sex to reproduce. Heterosexuality isn’t normal.
They showed me pictures of naked men, and women, administering mild shocks when I showed interest in women. Mild nausea-inducing drugs were also administered while I was being shown pictures of women in various states of undress. Soon I came to associate women with nausea and revulsion.
They encouraged me to masturbate to pictures of men. They weren’t arousing at first, but as it was my only avenue of relief, I soon learned. I began to imagine myself having anal sex and oral sex. The thought of 5 O’clock shadow on my thighs as I recieved oral sex began to arouse me a bit.
The clinic helped me reaffirm my self-esteem too. I learned what a sick, pathetic loser I was, but by being homosexual, I’d be accepted and loved.
Satan tried to convince me that I could never be cured of my heterosexuality and I tried to take my life on several occasions, but the folks at the clinic helped me realize that it was my demons of heterosexuality that were causing my feelings of depression. They were trying to have me kill myself before I was cured.
But with hard work, prayer and the power of the Lord, I began to come around. About this time I began to feel guilt for what I’d done with Astrid and tried to convince her to go to recovery too, but she just cussed at me. It’s sad when people won’t let you help them. But I pray for God to help her and hope she finds a nice girl.
And now here I am. I met with my partner Thor at a dance sponsered by the Clinic and we’ve been together for 6 months. I’ve come to enjoy intimacy with him. I’m lucky he’ll accept me after my past (he knows all about it). I realize I’ll never be fully cured. I have to constantly be on guard for heterosexual thoughts, and will occasionally have to get “booster treatments”, but with support groups, the Lord and Thor, I’m staying Gay like God intended.
Fenris
PS, If you didn’t find this funny, join the club. I hope it was illustrative of what some gay people have to go through, though
