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To Be Gay

Being a bisexual, married, Mormon man with two small children in a small town in Wyoming is torture. I'm 36, so I am realizing so much about my life. I'm regretting not being more gay in my past. However, it wasn't accepted, discussed, noticed... anywhere except in my heart.

My aunt, and not a reliable source for a story from so long ago, tells a tale from my past. Somehow I believed her.

She tells a story of me, when I was three. I was playing with dolls, along side of my girl cousins.

My father was irritated by this, and my aunt drew attention to it.

"Roger, is something wrong with Randy playing with dolls...?" She hissed in a way she knew would draw a response.

Roger pulled the doll from his three year old sons' joyful clutch. 

"I don't want him to be gay..." was all he had to say.

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