Hi hi hello!
I have a confession. Well it's not much of a confession if you follow whatever trails I left behind online.
I am an open book, a trait that don't usually fare well with my family. Last year alone I had to face an intervention by the whole family about an allegedly heinous tweet. I still can't forget how embarrassed I was to apologise to each and every family member. Oh how much I cried, how much my father cried and how angry I was to see my own father apologised for me. If the intervention was intended to help me denounce my vice, I can affirm with full confidence that it didn't. It only made me ambitious for all the wrong reasons. But this time around, I am more discreet about it.
While I crafted the ability to hide my feelings, what I am is still in plain view. People have been asking me a lot about it. "When are you getting married?", "When will you have children?" and I answer all the inquiries with a straightforward "I will never get married."
Their usual response to this is always "Oh you will! People who say they will not get married are always the first to get hitched!"
Of course I didn't tell them why I do not intend to marry. It's quite simple:
I am gay.
Not happy gay. Gay as in I like other men. That kind of gay. The haram one.
I didn't choose to be gay or suddenly become gay. I've always been gay.
I dated women in my course of figuring out my sexuality and I learned something essential about love. You can love someone without wanting to have sex with them. You really can.
It was a string of on and off girlfriends until my last one, a family friend who happens to have great control of my existing weakness: food! She's a cook in a french restaurant and bakes delicious cakes.
One day we went for a hike together at Broga. Being the gentleman that I am, chewah, I insisted that she should go first for safety reasons. As I watched her buttocks move from a theoretically advantageous perspective, I realise my disdain for it. Not just her buttocks but everything about her. I stopped walking for a while and closed my eyes for a few seconds. My mind did a bit of shifting when all senses were numbed. My contempt was for myself. I hated myself!
1. For convincing myself that I am straight when deep inside I know that isn't the case.
2. For building a castle made of lies for these poor women I dated.
That night when I came home, I did something I should have done years ago. I watched two dozen videos of sexually provocative women stripping, masturbating and contorting their bodies like a monkey in heat. And my heart just broke.
Any remnant of an honest normal marriage that I held on to were crushed to bits. And I cried.
If I marry, I will live a lie. If I follow my inclination towards men, I will live a sin.
What would my parents think of me? Will my family plan another intervention on me to pray the gay away?
Will my father disown me? Will he still love me?
I know for a fact that having sex with men is haram but homosexuality isn't. Having sexual inclination towards men is not a sin, but acting on it is. The decision to stay celibate is my only option to keep myself from being astray from the tenets of my faith. I know it is a lonely if not cursed life but I hope for more. Because I know I can do more, and achieve more.
But until love comes, I will figure this other phase of my life later. I'll cross the bridge when I come to it.