Oxytocin and depression – gay letter

I came out to my family and friends when I was 23. After 5 years of lying, it felt good! Great actually. My parents, (life long Republicans!) were pretty good about it too. Apparently they suspected I was gay, not so much because I acted gay, I don’t really, but because all I ever brought home were handsome buff guys from soccer practice, or track meets, never ever girls. Conservative but loving parents they waited (against all hope) that they were wrong rather than confront me. My stupid old Grandfather was a whole other story but I won’t go into that!

I also came out because I couldn’t handle the constant lying. At the end of the day, like my parents, I’m a fairly conservative guy; monogamous by nature and all of the lying was decaying my personal code of ethics. Furthermore, all of the compartmentalization necessary to maintain the lies was a lot of work. I also thought coming out would give me a better chance of finding landing a partner. One of my favorite pastimes in trigonometry class was daydreaming about Mr. Right.

As your average garden variety gay guy will tell you, finding Mr. Right in the “gay world” isn’t so easy. Oh, it’s real easy if you like the flakey, lispy, effeminate types, but those people turn me off, big time. I gravitate to the straighter types. My father always used to say that water seeks it’s own level so maybe it’s just the potential of camaraderie that the straighter guys sensed? It could also be that I’m shorter and slighter than average, which I may be attractive to alpha type guys? Whatever.

I eventually found a great guy and entered into a monogamous relationship that lasted about three years. Then one day Bill ended it by reason of, get this, I was getting too muscular and I threatened his masculinity. He said, “Kittens grow into cats.” Irony of ironies, he was the Tom cat, walking the fence line in every alleyway in town. I’m not the brightest bulb on the tree but that excuse was too simplistic, too pat. I think the truth of the matter is that his oxytocin was just wearing thin. It does that. That’s life. So, I’m back on the market again.

The dating scene hasn’t changed, even a little bit. I meet guys everyday; at Starbucks, the gym, any and everywhere, but they all seem like sluts, guys looking for “hit and run” sex. Not my scene. I want a man I can stick by and who will stick by me. A mainstream guy who happens to be gay. That’s all. Where can I meet a regular type guy who actually produces this bonding hormone I’m reading about called oxytocin?

Bursting with Love . . .

Imago

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