A GAY PROJECT FORUM ARTICLE CITED BY IRCT

I’m truly proud to inform you that the IRCT (International Rehabilitation Council for Torture Victims) in its Thematic Report 2020, dedicated to “reparative therapies”, has included in the Bibliography the article “Reparative Therapy to Cure Homosexuality“, publihed on Gay Project Forum on 10/12/2017, containing my English translation of a famous article by Davide Varì which describes the process of a typical reparative therapy step by step.
I’m proud that the work of Gay Project has helped to shed light on a phenomenon deprecated by the World Health Organization as a violation of human rights.

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If you want, you can participate in the discussion on this post open on the Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-a-gay-project-forum-article-cited-by-irct

A GAY COUPLE DIVIDED BY THE COVID RED AREA

Email dated March 13, 2020.
 
Hi Project,
I am writing to tell you my and my boyfriend’s story in these terrible days of the virus. I can tell you that this thing, which risks becoming a worldwide disaster and which you would do well to try to contain by any means, has also involved my life and especially that of my boyfriend. I use invented names to respect privacy: I will be called Peter and Paul.
I start from afar. We have known each other for several years, I work in the IT field and he is a doctor. We have been together for more than 10 years, we met in a completely random way because we had friends in common. He lives in northern Italy and  I’m in central-south. In practice we have dreamed of living together for a long time but it has never been possible. He has family situations that don’t allow him to go too far, I could do it, I could go to him, but this would create other difficulties and therefore somehow we got organized, I don’t work on Saturday, he had flexible shifts and had, on average, a free Saturday out of two, therefore, leaving my home on Friday after 20.00 and traveling all night, I usually was able to get where he lives early on Saturday morning, and he was there waiting for me at the station, we used to go together for breakfast in a beautiful bar and then drove to a small house that his parents had at the foot of the Alps, in a large meadow, which was often covered in snow in winter and in summer was of a unique and incredible green like an emerald, near the house there was a small fountain of cold and clean water, we unloaded our bags at home and walked around in beautiful places that he knew like his pockets, in the evening we could have our intimacy in an unimaginable silence. The following day we used to go on a few more excursions and then he used to take me back to town to the railway station where I had to take the train back home. It is true that we saw each other more or less twice a month and that in practice it was always me the one who had to take the train back and forth, but those Saturdays and Sundays were so wonderful that had the power to give sense to my whole life. Paul and I really love each other, I don’t know how I happened to meet him but I consider myself totally lucky, he is a sweet, generous guy who works for others, when on Sunday mornings we go to have breakfast in the mountain village, they all embrace him very warmly and you can see that they love him. He tells me he is happy to be with me and when I hear him say these things I fill myself with pride.
 
But let’s get to the facts. Now he is finished in the red zone. For practically a month I have only seen him on Skype, he works in the hospital and we only get in touch late at night when he comes home and contacts me. Since last year he lives alone, he is no longer with his family, even if he lives very close to them. He has his own house and when he arrives home very tired he starts chatting with me. He understands the seriousness of the situation, because he sees it every day and tells me that people don’t understand and minimize but that it is a disease which can decimate the world, but beyond these speeches he doesn’t go. I have a damned fear that Paul could become infected but I can’t talk to him about it, he tells me that he doesn’t want to hear those speeches and that he must do his duty because if even the doctors run away, sick people are left to themselves and they have no means to defend themselves. He always asks me about me, what I do, where I go, mutual friends but he doesn’t want to talk about his work, he just avoids the topic, it is evident that he too is afraid but on one side he cannot be afraid and on the other he doesn’t want to give up. He only tells me that he is tired, that shifts are exhausting but that he must go on anyway because it is too important. Sometimes I feel him happy and he hints at something that has gone well. Paul is not a machine, he participates very emotionally in the fate of his patients. When there are new government decrees, we start reading them together to try to understand exactly all the rules they contain. If I mention that certain prevention measures can be excessive, he attacks me (albeit gently) and tells me that I don’t understand because I don’t deal with those things and that certain measures are absolutely indispensable. He brings me China as an example, China risked disaster but with very rigid measures has managed to contain the infection. Here things are more difficult because among the people there is a lot of unconsciousness, a lot of foolishness, they think that the worst has already passed while it has yet to begin. He tells me that times will be longer than people imagine and he recommends me a thousand times to observe all the rules of prudence: “Wash your hands! Avoid crowd! etc. etc .”. When I told him that my company had started teleworking he calmed down. In fact, the work of a computer scientist can also be done at home or on platforms that allow multi-conferences, for us it is easy and we also have the means to do these things. Paul worries about me, but I worry about him and if in the evening he is late, I panic, but until now he has always come. He repeats that he is careful, of course, because he puts into practice all the security measures that in the hospital are very tight for doctors and nurses and this is the only way he has in order to reassure me.
 
In short, Project, so far for the two of us it has gone quite well, but nobody knows how long it will last and then we must put our soul in peace and hope that things will not become explosive and that he will not end up in the number of infected people or worse. There is a lot of anxiety on both sides but he cannot admit it.
 
Who knows how many couples have been divided by the virus! As I would like to hug Paul, now we only do the gesture on cam but sooner or later we will hug again and it will be beautiful. I conclude by wishing everyone involved to be able to get out of it as soon as possible and in the best possible way. Thanks also to you, Project, of course you can use this email as you like better.
 
Peter
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Email dated March 24, 2020.
Hi Project.
 
I wrote to you a few days ago, I think you will remember Peter and Paul. I am writing to you in the long moments of emptiness when I cannot get in contact with Paul and I find myself alone to reflect on what is happening.
 
The general situation of the epidemic would let anyone to begin a rethinking of their whole life, for those who have lost parents or grandparents or other relatives or friends the situation is terrible, they see the plan of a life vanish in a few days, death upsets families in the more violent and unexpected way, but for me and Paul the situation is fortunately not so dramatic, I’m I am worried about him, I know he’s prudent and very scrupulous but very little is enough to make a difference.
 
As for me, certainly the least directly exposed, I began to question many of my certainties, I feel much more fragile than before, I’m devaluing a lot of things that I previously considered fundamental, such as economic security and a broad possibility to make my choices but I feel weak because I’m exposed to the risk of losing Paul and it would be a tragedy for me that I don’t even dare to think about.
 
The father of one of my friend’s died of the virus and two other friends of mine have a relative in the hospital. Many are afraid and try to keep going day by day as they can, because they must also work to survive. I work from home, I don’t take serious risks, at least for the moment, but I’m worried about Paul, I think of him at all times of the day because he is right on the front line and I feel him exhausted from fatigue and downcast for what he has to see every day and that when he talks to me he systematically tries to omit.
 
I have always loved him, but seeing how he strives for the good of others to the point of exhaustion I begin to consider him as half a saint, and I think I will never be at his level. In these days he saw many people die, he tried to give them comfort as it was possible and as long as it was possible, but then he saw those people whom he had tried to save in any way die terribly. He tells me that for him now death is not only a daily reality but something he must see several times a day. When someone comes out of the intensive care ward, he feels happy and in fact sometimes it is almost a miracle.
 
He was even before an excellent, generous, selfless guy, but now I see him in a different atmosphere and, if possible, I love him even more than before, because I saw him at work, I saw his moral dimension. Yesterday he asked me to say a prayer for him, and I got scared and I asked him if he was positive and he said no, he asked me for a prayer to help him go all the way and not give up, he needed a greater strength, or better a consolation, I think, to be able to transmit it to all the people it tries to cure every day.
 
Today I tried to pray for him and I did it, but it’s something I never do, that’s why probably in my prayer there was something selfish, I prayed not to lose him, because for me he’s as essential as the light of the sun, but he had asked me for something different, that is, he asked me to pray for him to have the strength to go on. I know that he is taking serious risks and I’m very scared and it also seems right to me to ask the Lord not to take him away from me, even if we are a gay couple, because we really love each other.
 
Tonight I feel very agitated, sometimes at night I can’t sleep, I miss him, I miss him damn but I know that he has his duty to follow and that he will do it to the end. I have never seen anyone die, obviously I have seen sometimes dead people, but I have never seen anyone die, but he sees these things every day and I think it is precisely seeing suffering and death that gives him a very strong push to do what he does.
 
Yesterday he told me that a lady who had gone out of the intensive care ward and that he had been assisting for days had given him a wooden rosary and told him that she would pray for him and his girlfriend, he was moved and told the lady that he didn’t have a girl but a guy because he was gay and the lady told him that it was fine all the same and that she would pray for his boyfriend, because Paul was a good guy and he could give so much to his boyfriend. Then the lady started to cry, because she had a son more or less the age of Paul. When he told me this story he had a voice broken by emotion! How can you not love a man like Paul? I would have hugged him strongly! I would have lifted him off the ground to make him feel that I love him! I’m very upset and anxious, Project, but for me living these days is a very profound experience that is changing my life.
 
Peter
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Email dated March 30, 2020.
Hi Project,
today the data of the Civil Protection are comforting, I should be more calm and instead I feel very agitated and I can’t refrain, Paul works tonight, I heard him in the early afternoon, he tends to calm me down, to reassure me, but when I hear the news and they say that other doctors have died, I get terror, terrible anxiety and I think there may be him too. He tells me that even if he catches the virus, he shouldn’t take huge risks because he is young and mortality for those of his age is low, but many of his colleagues have tested positive and many have also died. He has no doubts, he must go on, he must put aside all emotions to maintain the highest possible level of self-control. He always tells me that he hopes that all this frightening adventure can change many absurd ways of reasoning. He quoted me a phrase from Pope Francis that struck him a lot, because that’s what he always thought: “We thought we would always stay healthy in a sick world”. I clearly feel that Paul is tired, exhausted, I feel it because until about a month ago we used to talk a lot on skype, now we speak less because he needs to sleep and I leave him quiet, but when I close the call I begin to be assaulted by despair, I’m afraid, I’m bloody afraid. People begin to relax and think that they are now getting out of it, but Paul continually repeats to me that this is not the case, that the situation can get out of hand very easily and that we could start again as before and worse than before. He repeats that nothing has changed from them yet and that nothing will change for several days, he says at least three weeks. Now they have a little more means than in the first days, if there is something that makes the difference, if anything, it is just that, it is always a struggle but a little less desperate. People continue to die exactly as before even though doctors can at least say they have done everything they could. Paul tells me that to return to acceptable levels the number of ICU patients should decrease by at least 50%, but it will take time and people will continue to die. He thinks of many other countries where there is no public health service that can react like ours and tells me that mortality will necessarily be much higher there. By now we stay on a video call at least for one hour and a half a day, I see him tired, much thinner than usual but nevertheless he is also calm, I don’t know how he manages to be calm, it is evident that he is aware of doing something fundamental, he tells me that the thing that is more difficult for him is not to let himself be overwhelmed by failures, that are many, many. I don’t sleep, Project, I ask God to save him but when I do it I have a thousand doubts, why him and not the others too? What’s the point of praying? Why do catastrophes like this epidemic happen? Or maybe we notice the disasters that upset the world only when they happen to us. I can’t even pray, it seems to me an act of selfishness, because I ask for something for myself, while perhaps we should just say: “your will be done” even if we don’t understand the meaning of it or refuse to understand it because it affects us personally. Sometimes I find myself making absurd thoughts, almost trying to make a contract with God: He saves my Paul and I give up sex, but then it seems to me a kind of stupid market, if I think that in order to have Paul unscathed I have to give up to sex, it means that after all I also think that sex between us is a negative thing, but I don’t think it at all, because it’s not like that, and then I don’t have to ask anything for me, it will be what it will be, and it will be accepted anyway, although it may be something terrible, as tens of thousands of people accepted it. In certain moments I’m also less afraid of death, of my personal death, I say, because I see it less as a personal drama and more as a collective destiny and I would say almost natural. I can’t take it anymore, Project, I think of Paul at all times, I try to imagine what he is doing at that moment and I dream that the nightmare will end as soon as possible and that we can go back to his house at the foot of Alps together, but all this still seems to me damned far and uncertain. Think about me too, if you can, Project, reading your emails helps me to move forward with less anguish.
Obviously you can make use of this email as you wish.
I hug you.
Peter
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Email dated May 9, 2020.
Hi Project,
I tell you right away, to prevent you from worry,  that “now” it is all quiet, but Paul got through some bad moments, and you can imagine how I felt. Between me and Paul there is a binding agreement: if there is any serious problem we must both know it and we must face it together. In our pre-covid life it has always been like this, so I knew very well that he would let me know how things really were, on Thursday April 2, he calls me at a strange time, in the morning, he tells me that he has a little cough but “at the moment” he has no fever, but he confesses to me that he is worried, so the fear that it may be covid is already in his head, he tells me that he had asked for the pharyngeal swab that will be done within two hours, results should arrive within the next 24 hours. He doesn’t try to tell me it’s not covid, instead he tries to prepare me for the idea that it is really covid, he is not afraid because, he explains, now the doctors are starting to have a bit more clear ideas on how to handle the matter. He tells me: “I would have preferred to avoid this experience, but we’ll get out of it!” In practice, he takes the test result for granted. The cell phone call doesn’t last long, because they call him almost immediately for the swab. A quarter of an hour later he tells me that they won’t let him go to the ward waiting for the result of the swab and that he thus will go home immediately and will call me on Skype just got home.
He calls me on skype and asks me about me, he tells me that he has “no fever yet”, but that he has a cough that suggests that it could be covid. We talked a bit, then I had to do my online work shift and we said goodbye. At 20.30 I called him back, he said he had a little fever, but that he had with him all the medicines needed, in practice he had already foreseen the evolution of that angry cough. I ask him how much fever he has and he tells me 38.5, but he says that he has “good” saturation, I ask him how much and he tells me “95” that for one his age he is not good at all, but he is not distressed by this fact. He alerted the hospital and they asked if he needed anything and he replied “no for now”. He tried to explain to me what therapy he would follow, but I was unable to understand his speech, was hearing him coughing and I didn’t want him to tire too much.
In our conversation, just to not tire him, I spoke almost continuously while he limited himself only to listen and I told him “our story” from the beginning, he was happy to hear it, he felt pampered, object of affectionate attention, and he needed all this very much precisely because he was sick. He took his medicines, then he said to me: “always saturation 95, but the temperature is 38.9 and I feel tired, maybe it’s better to take an antipyretic.” He took the antipyretic and 40-50 minutes later the temperature dropped to 38, the saturation was always 95 and he was a little breathless. He told me he wanted to try to get some sleep and that he set the alarm on at 3:00 and would call me back. I let him sleep, but, Project, you can’t imagine what I was feeling inside, I was stretched like a violin string, wakeful and with wide eyes, I was unable to close my eyes waiting for 3.00. At 3.01 he called me, told me that the saturation was always 95 with some ups and downs and that the fever was stabilized at 38. He had taken other medicines and thought he would try to get some rest again. He would call me back at 7.00. This time I was, if I can say so, a little more peaceful.
At 7.00 he did not call me and I have been anxious for more than an hour because he was not answering my cell phone calls, then he called me shortly before 8.15 am and he said that one of his colleagues had come to see him and had told him that the swab was positive and that since the saturation was always on 95 and this could tire him it would have been good to take a little oxygen, at 2 liters per minute, even a little to support the heart. They said they would bring the oxygen to him within a couple of hours, not a compressed gas cylinder but a liquid gas cylinder that would last much longer, more or less 5-6 days. The fever was 38.3 now, several hours after the antipyretic. He told me that he felt tired and that he would try to rest waiting for the oxygen, he added that he would call me as soon as he started taking oxygen.
What he had told me was serious but all in all not distressed, but other times he had told me that the worst moments come after a few days and I was very agitated. Shortly after 9.00 he calls me back and tells me that with oxygen at 2 liters per minute, which is all in all low, he feels much less evanescent, that he is continuing the therapy and that he is monitored by his colleagues doctors. He tells me that with oxygen he also feels like getting up and walking, whereas before he could only stay in bed and feeling nevertheless very dizzy and fatigued. In the afternoon he did himself the ECG  and told me it was good. During the day he didn’t resume antipyretics and the temperature didn’t go above 38.4, the saturation “with oxygen” was at 98, therefore good, it oscillated a little but little and the values were on average high. Anyhow I continued to hear the cough exactly as before. When he was speaking through headphones I was able to hear the hiss of the oxygen coming out of the inhaler. I’m not going to tell you about everything that happened and everything we said to each other hour by hour.
April 4 was the most difficult day, the temperature, in the evening, went up to 38.9 and he had to take another antipyretic, but that things were at risk of taking a bad turn one could understand it from the saturation that even “with oxygen” had fallen to 95-96 (but perhaps a little more 96 that 95), I was very worried, he less than me and it reassured me a lot. We got in touch 4 times during the night, I was afraid that the situation could get worse at any moment, it has been the worst night. On Sunday morning, that is, the following day, the situation seemed stable, but Paul was not well at all. He often measured saturation, but until 5 o’clock in the afternoon no change was seen, fever always very high (he didn’t want to take antipyretics before the fever reached 39 but the fever was always slightly lower).
In the late evening (of Sunday) things started to improve, the temperature, without antipyretic, did not exceed 38 and sometimes even fell below 38 and the saturation slowly rose and gradually abandoned that limit value of 95. Monday 7 temperature began to drop around 37.5 and Paul received another oxygen supply. In the next two days the improvement was constant, Paul preferred not to start talking of “healing phase”, and when I spoke about it he said it was too early and that to have a relative certainty it was necessary to wait three or four more days.
On the morning of April 10 (Friday) Paul took off the oxygen while talking to me and half an hour later he measured the saturation and it was 97 “without oxygen”, now finally an acceptable value, I asked him how he felt and he said ” much better, I breathe in a satisfying and trouble-free way even without oxygen. ” During the same day the fever disappeared completely and in the evening the saturation began to oscillate between 98 and 99, a sign that things, at the lung level, had come back to normal. By now Paul was calm.
On the evening of April 10 he asked that they do the swab and on Saturday 11 they went to his house to do it, he was now clinically healed, the swab was nevertheless still positive, but he wasn’t worried about this fact. On April 13 morning they did him the swab again and this time it resulted negative, on April 15 they did him the second swab which was negative again. A few days later he came back to the hospital ward and resumed work with covid patients. It has been two weeks that I will never forget. He then explained to me that it went well and that it could have been much worse than that because he had seen even young people die.
Now he should be immunized, so the covid shouldn’t scare him anymore. The two weeks of illness made him lose weight and he was never one of strong build. Looking at him on skype he seemed to have enormous eyes in a face very emaciated, and he has beautiful eyes! When I tell him that the epidemic is about to end, he always tells me that now he is no longer afraid for himself but that people continue to die and that even if there is a decline, the epidemic is not at all extinguished, that there are still too many new positives to say that we are out of it.
A few days ago he told me that they sent a 24-year-old boy to ICU and that he took care of him. Luckily that boy came out of the ICU after a few days and Paul also followed him to the ward and asked him if he wanted to contact someone in a video call, like his parents, but the boy asked Paul to call immediately his boyfriend ,who had been without news for more than 10 days, while the parents had been informed every day. The boy wanted Paul to stay in the room during the video call. The two boys started crying on the phone and then they also involved Paul: “If the doctor wasn’t there, who knows where I was now!” At the end of the video call, Paul said to the boy: “but you two really love each other!” The boy’s eyes shone. Then Paul went back to intensive care ward. When he told me this story Paul was happy and said to me: “They were really in love! There you really see if anyone loves you! “
As usual you can make use of this email as you wish. Thanks for your response the other time and sorry if I didn’t answer you right away.
I hug you.

Peter

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If you want, you can participate in the discussion on this post open on the Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-a-gay-couple-divided-by-the-covid-red-area

A GAY COUPLE IN A TERRIBLE ORDEAL

Hi Project,
I was really pleased to be able to talk with you last night, I absolutely needed it and I enthusiastically welcome the idea of summarizing yesterday’s speech into an email that you can then enter in the forum.

I am 31 years old, in my life I have always been convinced of having a thousand problems, from the idea that I would never find a guy who loved me at the idea of not being physically and psychologically up to a serious partner and many other things. For those things I felt bad, I felt like a nothingness and I thought I had experienced the worst, the most problematic situations of life, then I met a guy and slowly, gradually, we began to love each other. I don’t know what brought us to get together but it happened.

For a long time we couldn’t live together because we didn’t have the chance, in theory we were only two good friends, but in reality we were a couple. We didn’t see each other every day, and it happened that maybe in a week we saw each other only once, but when we were together we felt really well, we learned to love each other, to understand each other, to trust each other.

I thought I had found my serenity and surely he too thought it, but suddenly he started to accuse some disorders, he went to the doctor who sent him to the specialist and he did some very thorough instrumental examinations and it became clear that my boyfriend had a very serious health problem. I don’t go into details, but it was really a bolt from the blue.

At the moment he has quite bearable disturbances, but it will not always be that way and we have been told it, now he has begun his path of illness, which, apart from the gravity of the thing in itself, will create great problems even with work, because he is employee of a large private company and when he will have to go to the hospital for therapy he will be absent from work and so he will risk dismissal. Fortunately for me I have a good job and if it were to serve I could give him a helping hand.

At the moment he has not said anything about the illness to his parents, who are elderly, have a lot of health problems and live with him, he doesn’t want to alarm them, but sooner or later they will realize that something is wrong.

My parents know my boyfriend, who has been to my house many times with them, but they thought he was just a friend of mine. Some time ago, my father, who is 70 years old, looked at me in the eye and said: “I see you’re not quiet, what’s wrong?” And I told him everything, that I was gay and that my boyfriend was sick and he hugged me and told me: “On me and your mother, you can always count and for anything.” I felt a little comforted but I’d have preferred that it was my boyfriend to feel comforted, but he can’t even talk with his parents.

My father asked me about the hospital where my boyfriend goes, and about doctors who take care about him and he said they are serious people, he knows those environments because he too has had oncological problems, now under control.

I modified my working hours to be close to my boyfriend as much as possible, I accompany him to work and I go to take him back, I always accompany him to the hospital, the doctor who takes care about him has been told that we are a couple and didn’t make a grimace. My father at one point called Steven on the phone and Steven came to my house for lunch, it’s something quite usual for us, but this time my father told Steven something that he didn’t expect: “Louis told me everything and we (i.e. he and my mother) thought that you and Louis can feel more at ease enjoying your privacy in this apartment, I and my wife can go to a little house we have in the village nearby, which is only 15 kilometers from here, but your parents would remain alone and maybe they would take it badly, I don’t know … What do you think about?” Steven was puzzled and didn’t know what to say and I too, actually. He should have left his parents’ house and it seemed unrealistic. My father, given the perplexities, didn’t insist and said only: “The proposal is always valid, if you decide to put it into practice, it is done in two days at most”.

When I took Steven back to his house and we parted, he thought that if he had been with me in the same house he would have been calmer, even for the illness, because his parents knew nothing and in case of need they wouldn’t have known what to do. He told me: “I have to try and get my parents to accept it, but they also have my sister and they wouldn’t be alone anyway … let’s see what happens.” After not even a week, my parents went to live in the village and Steven moved to my home. He was happy to be with me, it was also a way to realize a dream, but at the base of everything there was a terrible melancholy. I saw Steven smiling and seemingly quiet but I was worried about the passage of time, everything seemed to me ephemeral and frighteningly unstable.

At the moment the situation is this, Steven goes to the hospital for checks every two months, the doctors don’t talk too much, they decide what to do step by step, I bring inside me a terrible anguish and I think about what Steven is experiencing, we speak about everything, but not about the disease, which means that he is trying to remove it and not to be too much conditioned by it.

I feel embarrassed especially for sex, I swear, Project, I never know how to behave, before we had never had problems, it all came spontaneously, now to launch the idea seems inappropriate, but in the end this is also a stupid problem. He occasionally takes the initiative, we rarely get to sex, in most cases we just smile and move on. It’s different for cuddles, now there’s a lot more tenderness than before, a little to compensate for the decrease in sexuality and mainly, I think, because now we have our intimacy, we have our own home and we can nestle one against the other to see the television or just to feel that we are there and that we love each other.

Project, I would never have thought of having to face a situation like this, which puts me to the test in a violently emotional way. I am terrified of the future, doctors don’t encourage but don’t even discourage, talk about the phase of therapy towards which you are going but never talk about long-term prospects. I don’t ask questions when we go to the hospital together. Steven asks some questions and I try to memorize the doctor’s answers and to put together the pieces of the puzzle to understand something more. We have decided not to read Wikipedia and let the doctors do their work.

Sometimes in the morning I wake up next to Steven and I start to pray for Steven, and I have never been religious, but now I find comfort in the ideas of religion. Of this I cannot talk with Stephen, not so much because he is radically rationalist and unbeliever, but because for him it would be like a further confirmation that I consider his health problem insurmountable. He too, in my opinion, doesn’t see any favorable prospects at all, but he never talks about it. Sometimes, when we hug, I wonder what he is thinking but obviously he doesn’t say anything. Those moments of silence are very intense, our way of shaking hands is already very eloquent. This too is being gay and I had never imagined it.

Now I realize how absurd the problems I had a few years ago were, now I took a bath of reality that put me in touch with human nature in its fragility. I’m learning very hard lessons, I only know that I love Steven, and I will never leave him alone, I don’t want to think of a future without Steven, this idea is terrible for me and makes me cry, because I see Steven who calmly shakes my hand, I hear his voice a little hesitant and I also see him smile, it is he who tries not to make me think and to give me courage.

Now we are at this point, Project, and no one knows what is to come. I feel profoundly melancholic, I feel like a feather carried by the wind. My parents try to be present to calm the atmosphere a little, they treat Steven as if he were a son of theirs, this consoles a little, but the underlying terrible melancholy remains. I love Steven also because he has a dignity even in this situation, and doesn’t close himself in himself, on the contrary he accepts to share his anxieties with me, without too many words but with a lot of love. I stop here, Project, because I can’t go on.
Louis

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A MARRIED GAY GUY WHO HAS NOT REPENTED

Greetings to all, “I have not just registered in the forum”, I was undecided whether to introduce myself, partly because I don’t know if my story will be useful for the discussion. My not being repentant for the choices made could mislead some who are looking for their identity.

I immediately say that I have a certain age, I am married and with children, but since adolescence I have always had fantasies and even homosexual practices. But I made a choice of life that I don’t want to question now. The fact that I have read many of the interventions of this forum, which I judge serious and above all commendable in protecting the privacy of users, also highlights that I still have an interest in these issues and my for fear of not being completely in peace with myself.

I think I have an ideal family life, a wife who loves me and children I’m proud of. All this, however, has been achieved without my having ever been able to distract myself from my drives which are clearly in the homosexual sense. Even after the wedding I had some falls, I considered them “betrayals”, yes serious, but in my opinion not very different from those of straight people. I don’t know whether to consider myself a true homosexual, but the more I analyze my life and the more I believe to be gay. But I also think with different attitudes from experiences of others.

I never thought of being able to share the couple life with a man and I was mostly driven by sexual attraction, I don’t know if I “fell in love” with another guy, perhaps at a young age, perhaps with attentions directed towards those who could not create a relationship with me, inside me however the thing has always been confused. What is certain is that I have always refused to recognize him and have tried to live a seemingly normal hetero life. In short, my homosexuality is the one that is called dystonic homosexuality.

You have to consider that on me the religious element has had a decisive influence. I have understood from various interventions that this is normally considered negative. But faith for me is an irrepressible fact, full of doubts and contradictions, but I cannot and don’t want to eliminate it from my life. I never said anything to my wife. I realize that complete sincerity in a relationship is essential but I have never succeeded, perhaps at the beginning I made some attempts, but exactly as I read in some posts of the forum, often this by the partner of the other sex is not understood or the partner doesn’t even want to consider it.

Now, after a long time, for the great affection that I have towards my wife, never, never I could have let her be aware of a situation that she surely couldn’t have understood. I try to accept myself this way, maybe I have not been completely honest, but sometimes other priorities are included in the scale of priorities. The textbook on homosexuality has greatly struck me positively, especially when the topic of married gays is dealt with. I think I have found a balance as indicated in the first option, that is with fantasies and, sometimes, with porn sites that I’m a bit ashamed of but nevertheless I consider the lesser evil.

I feel fragile and willing to give in to temptation but I resign myself to what I’m. I understand that maybe my experience cannot be taken as an example, I may have managed to realize myself in a way that can be judged not appropriate to the full acceptance of how we are but, as I have repeatedly heard, every case is separate and I frankly I cannot repent of my family choice. Perhaps today with the most widespread and above all clearer and more scientific means of information on this topic, I would have done differently, but it went like this and no verification of other hypotheses is anymore possible. Hello everyone with my most sincere sympathy.

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If you like, you can join the discussion on this post on Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-a-married-gay-guy-who-has-not-repented

STORY OF A MARRIED GAY GUY

Hello Project, now it is so much that I don’t write to you. With my wife we talked and we decided to separate. Now we are still at home together for logistical reasons and it is not easy, but I imagine that slowly everything can improve. The guy of the message I have not heard him for months and I cannot deny that I miss him, but slowly this will pass too. On my orientation I sincerely stopped asking questions and giving me labels. I decided to live with sincerity and that’s it, without giving me a thousand problems. I also managed to talk with my male best friend and with my female best friend, with my sisters and especially with my parents. I was afraid that they wouldn’t understand, in fact I was convinced of it, but it happened the exact opposite, they understood me and they are close to me. This helped me a lot. My father’s answer was “Certainly I’m old, but in 2017 it’s no longer strange”. I and my sister were more shocked by his reaction than he was by me. He has always been one of closed mind (at least apparently). Now I’m just trying to find a balance in my life even if I have swung for months between moments of contentment and serenity and moments of confusion and sadness. I also write to you because I wanted to add my experience to the forum by telling my life, but before inserting the post I wanted you to read it and tell me your opinion. Below you find the text (I know it’s very long, but it’s a life to tell and there are many themes). Bye! And thanks.

Hello everyone, first of all I congratulate you for the forum, which I have been following for many months and that I continue to follow, reading texts, reflections and comments, and I thank Project for its advices. All those testimonies have helped me in this period not exactly easy. I have tried many times to write my story to give some help to someone else with my experience and above all to receive help or advice, but I have always been afraid and uncertain about what to write.

I’m a 29 year old guy, not exactly a teenager. I state that I understand that I have always had a strong internalized homophobia, probably acquired by a loving and affectionate grandmother who was completely against the gay world and by a father who joked about it with friends. I was a child and certain phrases that, with today’s head, I would understand that they must be contextualized and understood in a completely different way, they had marked me. I don’t know if it was because of these phrases or whatever else, but I have always seen the fact of being homosexual as something perverse and sick, I don’t say as pedophilia but almost.

I remember that as a young child I had “different” thoughts but I had confirmation of being different at 14 when I fell in love for the first time with a guy. Obviously it was an unrequited and unilateral love, because he was straight. All this made me suffer, not only because of the unrequited love, but because it was something I absolutely didn’t want and I tried to deny inside myself, hiding and lying to myself telling myself that he was just a friend. My dream since childhood was to have a family and children. The children were my biggest dream. As far as I was concerned, in addition to emotional involvement, I was also attracted toward this guy, sometimes it was enough to stay close to him to get an erection, but I couldn’t avoid to want him and it was impossible for me to take him out of my head, and all the story made me ashamed to death.

At that time I don’t sincerely remember masturbation in which direction it went, even if remembering it would be useful to understand things better. I also remember that at that time when I was interested in a guy I tried to “translate” the feelings I was feeling, directing them to girls, trying to convince myself that I felt those feelings for girls. I don’t know why I did it, but I was convinced that it was right. It was a period when I felt wrong and suffered.

I remember trying to change my gestures to look as masculine as possible, even if I still maintain a slightly effeminate attitude. I didn’t do sports or anything that led me to enter a male locker room because I was very ashamed to see naked guys, I found myself looking at them and wanting them. I tried to do everything to look as normal as possible and the fact that I had a good appearance helped me because I was always surrounded by beautiful girls, many of which followed me, while for me they were only friends. Still, I find myself better with girls and I have more male than female friends, with guys I have more difficulty in tying. I also tried approaches for a while with some girls, but without having any emotional or physical interest.

At one point she came, the girl who later became my wife. She had a great love for me and I found in her the emotional tranquility that comforted me and made me feel normal. For me she became a point of reference and I was completely carried away by her love. I somehow love her and I still care for her today, but knowing that there was something wrong with me, I was able to see it as something external, not mine, to such an extent that I had finally come to think of being “healed”, or better, not even “healed”, that there had simply never been anything strange within me. Sex worked (maybe), even though I never looked for it and it had never impressed me. Sometimes I fell into periods of sadness and silence because something came out and I closed in myself knowing that with a little time the malaise would have passed and everything would be back as before. And my poor wife was always trying to understand something that is quite incomprehensible even for me and even now.

Masturbation had become a necessity, I devoted myself to it in a mechanical way and always watching porn, straight porn, of course, watching a gay one was something unthinkable for me. Sometimes I looked at them to convince me and confirm that I was not interested. But in the hetero movies I looked at the man and in my mind I had the greatest pleasure in oral sex, with the desire, not only that it was done on me, but that I was to do it to him, and then I used to identify myself in the actress. I know, it’s absurd if I think about it, but in that way I felt normal and above all not guilty. Probably I’m the only one in the world to have certain quirks. My life has gone on like this, I have filled my life with things to do without stopping, I guess just only in order to avoid having time to stop and think.

I really believed it was all normal like that. After all I was not serene but somehow I was happy, I had a perfect life. With my wife we grew up together, we respected each other and we always did everything together, traveled, learned languages and supported each other in difficult times. So I decided to get married and give her that much-desired wedding. I tried to give her a dream wedding, I had committed to this purpose with all my heart. Although it was a mistake it was a day when we were really happy, it has been still the best day of my life and when I made the decision, for me, that problem that I had inside didn’t exist anymore.

Until “he” arrived. I was in church, that same church that so often comforted me in the most difficult moments. He was in front of me. I couldn’t look at him and the absurd thing is that every now and then I caught him while looking at me and seeing that I was looking at him, he looked away, almost ashamed. I told myself it was strange. He was not handsome, but his dark eyes, his naive look of teddy bear (so I called him), big and tender, attracted me. Then someone told him he had to move and put himself next to me. We had a chat and he was also nice and intelligent. There were so many things in common to talk about. After the course, I ran away, I left without too many words.

I didn’t see him for a while until one day I saw him in a group. We had to take a group photo and he took my hand to make me get close to him, a gesture that any friend would do, but that contact pleased me terribly, after the end of the photo service I quickly left, full of shame.

The following days I was continuously thinking of that guy. I couldn’t get it out of my head. I cried, I don’t know exactly why. Then one day I had to ask him for some information and he gave me his phone number. He looked at me in a strange way, mixed with contentment and shame. I felt that he could also feel my own feelings, but I avoided thinking about it. But I didn’t understand exactly and I repeated to myself that it was all in my mind. I called him for that information, but the chat lasted two hours. It was really nice to talk to him and I saw that it was like that for him too.

In the following days we got newly in contact and we manage to talk for hours with pleasure, without stopping. We began to be in contact more often also with messages. I realized that I was more and more of me interested in him, but as usual inside me I told myself that I had found a good friend only. Until one day I went to his house to meet him. I had to stay there no more than half an hour, but he had to go for an errand and insisted that I wait for him at all costs, and so I waited for him. Then we talked again about our studies, our travels and our passions. He seemed happy to see me and be with me. I certainly was.

The next day I had to go abroad for work and I needed a helping hand, we had talked in the morning and I had also told him about my trip and he came abroad with me to give me a hand. During the whole trip we talked and the speeches about gays and in particular about gays who attend the church came out. I suspected he was gay and I asked him it without too many preambles, stressing that it was just out of curiosity.

He asks me in turn the same question and I answer him “straight” but I talk to him about my doubts and tell him that maybe I can call myself bisexual (it was the first time in my life that I was talking to someone about such things, and it was something that I didn’t even want to talk about with myself). He replies that he too was bisexual. So we began to talk about our doubts and feelings experienced in the past. It was the first time that I really asked myself questions and talked about them aloud.

From him I learn that he had begun to accept himself two years earlier, at the age of 30. I also tell him of the feelings I felt towards him (I had no ulterior motive, it was only out of sincerity). He tells me that for him it was the same, I was happy but confused, I didn’t expect it. Then with a tender and shameful look he puts his hand on mine. He had a sweet firm touch, I felt uncomfortable, but I loved that contact terribly. I felt afraid and guilty. Then he made a simple gesture but I remember it with great pleasure. It was hot and he was worried about me, he took off my hat, and so I could see he was worried about me. This thing filled my heart. We spent the day together, looking at the view of the city and then we stopped for a drink and he clumsily tried to kiss me.

I was shocked. I pushed him away saying I was married. I read in his look that he was ashamed. He apologized. All this made me so tender, I too wanted the kiss, but I couldn’t let me go. I was afraid of myself, of the situation, and the sense of guilt grew inside me just thinking about it. I shook his hand, saying to forgive me, but I wanted nothing more than a friend. The following days we continued to stay in touch, more and more and we took every opportunity to see each other. We did nothing but talk. It was so pleasant. But I felt that feeling grew stronger and stronger inside me. Then one day he writes me by message, a simple “I love you”, and I think I was the happiest person in the world. I was ashamed to answer him and sent him a song. From there followed messages and songs, which until that day didn’t make sense, then suddenly took deep meanings that I could finally understand.

We talked about everything, our secrets and the deepest fears. We opened up with each other a lot, until one day he wrote to me “I love you, but maybe even a little more”. I would have cried from the myriad feelings and thoughts that passed through my heart and mind. I was really confused, but now I realized that I loved him and for the first time in my life I was reciprocated. I was not alone. And the only thing I thought was: how is it possible that such a strong and beautiful feeling is wrong? Then he had to leave for a trip and we met to say goodbye. I was married and I had no intention of doing anything wrong anyway. So we talked and hugged before saying goodbye. I was so happy in his arms. Then he looked me in the eyes, those eyes that I dreamed of so much, and I found myself with my face closer to his, I felt terribly ashamed. I literally ran away greeting him.

During his two-week trip we were in touch every day, every moment we could. We were also joking about sex, but always for fun. Then he returned from vacation; that night, by coincidence, I had to go out and we met on a Roman bridge. He told me about the trip and all the good things he had seen. It was cold and so, he, big and tender, hugged me to warm me up. It was so sweet and I was so happy, I felt protected for the first time in my life, I wanted that embrace never to end. I looked at him and asked him sadly why God says that such a beautiful thing it’s wrong. I’ve always seen gay love as something vulgar and carnal. Instead it had everything but vulgarity. And that’s how I found myself kissing him. But it wasn’t a kiss like all those I had given until that day. I felt my heart beating wildly, a desire that pervaded my whole body. It had never happened to me in my life.

We stayed hugged a little more on that bridge in the dark, watching the moon and the stars, over the incessant noise of the river. It was cold but for the first time in my life I felt really warm. I went home and thought about him all night and the following day.

Oh, what I had done! I had cheated on my wife and with a man. But it had been beautiful. I talked to him and he had the same guilt feelings, he was not married, but it was as if he were. Stupidly we were convinced that perhaps God had given us the opportunity to love each other without ruining our hetero duties (what a stupidity, if I think back!). But at that moment it was enough for me to get rid of guilt and to be with him. We continued as friends in front of others and any excuse was good to steal a kiss or a hug or even just a caress, until one day we found ourselves making love. It was not as vulgar as in porn movies, it was love, it was a mutual pleasure. I cannot get out of my mind his way of looking at me. I miss that tender teddy bear look. Then, afterwards, we fell asleep in each others arms. That hug is the most beautiful memory I carry with me.

After that episode we joined even more, I worried about him and he worried about me, we were very considerate of everything. We dreamed of impossible journeys and a life together, one in the shadow of the other. We imagined our old age in front of a fireplace, hand in hand. All this until one day an event happened (of which I prefer not to speak) that led him to feel guilty. I was married, and he too was as if he were. So the sense of guilt began to grow in us. We understood that everything we were doing was wrong. So he began to cry and I felt guilty about everything, about my wife and about him. I was a rag. I wanted to detach myself but I couldn’t. All this without being able to talk to anyone and trying to appear cheerful and sunny as usual in the eyes of people.

But I saw that he was moving further away from me. I told myself it was right this way, but the more I saw him get away, the more I died inside and looked for him. Until one day I felt him far away and asked him if it was over, he said yes, that it was better that way. I think the world around me stopped making noise at that moment. I told him “it’s ok”, after all it was right that way. For a week I couldn’t stop crying. I was newly alone and aware that something inside me was different, was gay.

So in that week I asked him if we could meet again. I wanted at least him to say it to me in my face not on the phone. We met. He was calm now. I didn’t understand how it was possible. So, when I got back to work, I wrote to him if he had another guy. He told me that he didn’t know how to tell me it and that he was sorry, but he had met a guy two weeks before and that with me he had confused the initial interest with love. At that moment it was like receiving a punch in the stomach, the world collapsed under my feet. I felt destroyed, I found myself losing the most beautiful thing in my life for another guy, I found myself aware that that a part of me so repressed existed and that made me really happy, and I also felt guilt for what I had done to my wife. All this in a fake straight life that made me feel in prison.

At that time I began to wonder if I could really be gay or bisexual. This thought stressed me more and more. I began to lose weight and close myself up like a hedgehog. Seeing any person made me uncomfortable. I was ashamed of myself. Sometimes I got to the point of feeling repulsion for myself. Finally I accept that part of me exists and I talk about it with my wife. That’s where I met the forum and talked to Project.

My wife helped me to understand, she thought it was a period of depression, but when she realized that this part of me exists, she went through a period of rage. But then she realized that it was simply so. On the one hand she was sad and disappointed, but on the other she was relieved because she had given herself so many faults and she thought that there was something wrong with her but now she understood that the problem was not her but was I, and she kept telling me: if you’re gay now everything is clear to me.

At first I thought being gay was only a small part of personality, but over time I saw my awareness grow up and, asking myself questions and reasoning on it, now I understand many things that I didn’t understand before. Now I’m aware that bisexual I’m for sure, and maybe gay. My wife says it’s clear, I’ve never looked at any girl, I’ve never looked for her to make love. I prefer a book or something else to her, she repeats that if I’m bisexual it’s just because she’s there. But there she was and I never had problems in making love. So a part of me is straight. At least I hope, I don’t want to believe that I really hid behind my wife. However now I stopped wanting to give myself a label. Now I just want to rediscover my serenity and really live, since until now I let myself be carried away by what was right for society. I know that from that day I rediscovered masturbation mostly without watching porn movies and all centered on that much desired guy and I also started to watch gay porn movies that give me satisfaction after all, even if I prefer the parts with oral sex or those “romantic”, Some films, however, don’t like them because they are too “hard”.

Now four months have passed since we said goodbye with that guy and yet I still miss him so much. For what concerns my wife I realized that she deserves a person who really loves her and really wants her. I tried to talk to her sincerely and stay close to her for what I can. It’s hard to leave her because I love her deeply and she has been a fixed point in my life. And the sense of guilt does not help. But it’s the right thing. On the advice of my psychologist I have been able to talk about myself with my two best friends and with my family. After that I spoke with my parents I felt an incredible sense of liberation, especially because they didn’t take it badly although I had thought exactly the opposite. On the contrary they speak as if they had always known or suspected it. They support me, worried perhaps also of my weight loss and of my sadness and loneliness that I have been carrying with me for months. Sorry if I was verbose, but summarize a life in a few lines is almost impossible.

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If you like, you can join the discussion on this post on Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-story-of-a-married-gay-guy

HOMOSEXUALITY AS A GUILT-PATHOLOGY AND MARRIAGE AS A REMEDY

This post is dedicated to married gays, so I will leave aside all the considerations related to sexual orientation of guys who have a straight sex life at the couple level and having a sex life typically gay at the level of masturbation, because these considerations have an important sense only before you get married.

I will start here from the situation of married gays, as I see it through the chats with people living in this condition. In my dialogues with married gay guys of all ages, the idea that when we are young, we are very often led to underestimate homosexuality and to consider it a choice and, even worse, a reversible choice, is always present. Too many times one hears people telling that one chooses to be gay and this totally false statement creeps into the brains of the guys who, forgive me the desecrating but instructive example, consider homosexuality not as their nature, i.e. as a personal fundamental characteristic but as a kind of drug that is a bad thing in itself but that can be taken in the end, in small doses, because it is taken for granted that one can come out of it when and how one wants.

Homosexuality has nothing negative and it is not a habit that leads to addiction, such as the use of drugs but it is a reality about which it makes no sense to say: “I go out of it when I want” because being gay is not a choice. The idea coming from a religious matrix of the homosexuality as a vice that if rooted leads to an addiction, that is to a vice no longer eradicable, is still widespread and continues to produce incalculable damages, inducing gays to marriage in the belief that, in the end, with an act of will, they can also choose to be straight.

The married gays know very well how much this wrong vision of things is deleterious. Very often, in socially backward reality in which homophobia dominates, children learn from an early age to see homosexuality as a disvalue, all traditional education presupposes the heterosexuality of guys and, where there are gay guys, who are eight percent of the guys and therefore are practically everywhere, causes them to repress any gay drive through feelings of guilt.

The Catholic Church still officially has attitudes that are substantially homophobic and, in substance even if not in words, incites hatred against homosexuals. With Pope Francis the tone, at the top, has changed, but eradicating homophobia from the Church is a something that seems to be destined for failure, admitted and not granted that someone really intends to attempt it.

The attitudes of the family are often backwarded and violently repressive. I invite those who have not seen it to see a very significant French film: “Juste une question d’amour” in which parents who embody two different attitudes have to face the homosexuality of the sons. When the repression of homosexuality is so strong as to induce the guys not only to eliminate external behaviors that may make people think of homosexuality but even to fight against their own homosexual instincts at a very private level by repressing spontaneous masturbation in a gay key, it becomes unfortunately possible and concrete the possibility that a guy can think not only of forcing himself not to be gay but even to be straight.

These are forms of profound violence that completely alter and I would say completely distort the affectivity and sexuality of a gay guy, who is encouraged to create a heterosexual relationships and to cultivate it by “imitating” the attitudes of other guys; in these cases the removal of homosexuality is seen as a moral merit and heterosexual sexuality is accepted as “medicine of homosexuality”.

Behind all this, the idea of sexuality as a vice and therefore as a fault is evident. On closer inspection, it is easy to understand that where very elementary and dogmatic conceptions of nature dominate, the complexity of reality is compressed into schemes derived from pure prejudices. To think that sexuality is aimed only at procreation is an assumption of principle that is systematically contradicted at the social level and in individual behavior.

The expression “against nature” has been and is still used systematically with regard to behaviors and to the same homosexual libido. Instead of knowing what variants of human sexuality are, it is much easier to consider them as deviations “against nature” or as acquired vices, or cultural choices, more or less induced from the outside. To consider homosexuality a vice rather than a variant of human sexuality means to base the whole approach to homosexuality on totally wrong grounds.

When a guy evaluates his homosexuality as a vice against which one must resist to return to true sexuality according to nature, in fact, he takes an attempt of self-repression that results in an attempt to avoid or contain masturbation, to escape from the occasions in which homosexual instincts can be more easily reawakened, to sublimate homosexuality in affectionate friendship, and, at the end, to choose of a way without return like marriage. I report here (with the consent of the author) an email I received.

“I am writing to you with great fear because I don’t know who you are, and the fact that you are gay embarrasses me. I’m 25 years old, I have distinctly felt an interest in guys for a few years, but I don’t feel repulsed by girls, now I have a girlfriend for a few months and all in all I feel quite at ease with her, she’s very sweet and she’s not obsessed with sex like some girls that I had before, we love each other, she is not at the top of my thoughts, I sometimes let myself go to pornography and in particular gay pornography, but with my girlfriend I think that a serious relationship could also be built. I want to say that if I work hard I can do without gay porn and even without masturbation for several days and I think if I had a family I could put all these things aside to dedicate myself to my family. I feel that I’m at a turning point, because if I wanted, I could arrive to the wedding and even in a short time and my girlfriend would be very happy and even our parents, and in the end, it would be good for me, but honestly for me it’s very hard to decide because then I could not go back. I would love to get married and do away with pornography once and for all. etc., but I’m afraid of doing the biggest stupid thing in my life. There is something that makes me reflect and it is the fact that I talk with my girlfriend about everything but I could not talk about my homosexual fantasies because I think that she wouldn’t really understand the meaning of such a thing, she’s fine with me, we pamper each other with a minimum of petting but she would never understand that for me there is something else, she is convinced that homosexuality is a vice that can be overcome with good will and perhaps with the help of a good psychologist. I too, years ago, tended to give for granted all these things but lately I started to think that things are much less easy than people make them look. I asked myself many questions about my future and what I really want. Recently I met a guy at the university and I started to look at him with interest, but not only for reasons of sex, as I did before, but to look at him with emotional interest, he made me feel tenderness, I wanted to stay next to him, there was also sex, but not just sex, and for the first time I began to think that for me a love story could be possible even with a guy and maybe even more with a guy than with a girl. I don’t know anything about the gay reality, which objectively scares me but I’m not at all sure that I want to give up my private and tiny gay world to go to a wedding that honestly scares me a little because in the end it could be a real trap. But now what have I to do? My girlfriend expects the wedding, like our parents and friends, etc. etc .. I think I need someone who forces me to admit things that I now see even by myself, even if then transforming the clarity of ideas that I’m gaining into concrete actions is really difficult.”

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If you like, you can join the discussion on this post on Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-homosexuality-as-a-guilt-pathology-and-marriage-as-a-remedy

ALWAYS OUR CHILDREN – USA BISHOPS AND HOMOSEXUALITY

On the website of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the United States, I read a document entitled “Always Our Children: : A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” worthy of special attention. It was my intention to translate the document into Italian and publish it “with due comment” on the Gay Project websites, both in Italian and in English. I translated all the text but I noticed that I’m not even allowed to partially reproduce it because it is copyrighted!

The copyright was born to prevent the commercial exploitation of a publication, but in this specific case, where it is not clear what the commercial interest to defend is, since it is a “pastoral” document, copyright obviously has another meaning, i.e. to prevent even the partial publication of the text and therefore its point by point comment by “unauthorized persons”, in essence the copyright here has only the sense of a censorship. I must point out that the Vatican’s official documents, which are of very greater importance, are not defended with expedients such as copyright and the Vatican honestly exposes itself to criticism, but the US Bishops’ Conference prefers to defend itself with means typical of commercial law!

I invite not only gays but all people who have a civil conscience to read this document (http://www.usccb.org/issues-and-action/h…ildren.cfm).

I cannot mention the content for copyright reasons, I will limit myself to the impressions I had during the reading of the text.
I note that the text has been copyrighted on 1997, at the time of John Paul II, or rather of Saint John Paul II. The bishops present a non-fraternal but “pastoral” approach in the sense that there is no common research of the truth but there are the pastors who are kindly concerned with the lost sheep. Communication is one-way, from top to bottom, from the bishops to the faithful.

The discourse on homosexuality is dealt with by insisting very formally on acceptance and respect but by reiterating the teaching of the Church, that is, essentially, radically refusing to open eyes on reality. Galileo also claimed that it is not the sun that turns around the earth but the earth that turns around the sun and was condemned by the Inquisition on the basis of the teachings of the Church, teachings that had nothing evangelical, as Church teachings on Homosexuality have nothing evangelical.

I have cited hundreds of times fundamental documents on this matter of the World Health Organization, but the Church doesn’t want to consider “reality”, which has nothing to do with what the Church itself preaches about homosexuality. It is possible to make a mistake, but insisting in error avoiding any form of comparison means that the other are considered a reality of lower category, to be pitied, to be guided, people whom you must pretend to respect without trying to understand what they think, which is considered wrong a priori.

Then there is another thing that has struck me very much, the document is directed essentially not to gays, but to parents of gay sons and to those who exercise pastoral functions, it is said that the use of conversion therapies “is not mandatory” and it should be accepted voluntarily and also that it is not said that it can solves the problem, but Catholic parents are advised to look for specialists who follow the Catholic doctrine, and this is in itself very significant.

On the one hand the document underlines that a gay son is still a son (because many Catholics had evidently been led to think otherwise!), but for the other it recognizes that a parent can well be upset by a terrible event like realizing to have a gay son, it is recommended that the parent address the community, the parish, the diocese, the associations of parents of gay sons, etc. etc.. But I wondered if the Church had ever realized that the Church itself continues even now to spread false and homophobic messages that have fueled and continue to fuel hatred against gays.

On the subject of suicide it is said that homosexuality can lead to suicide but in reality it is not homosexuality that leads to suicide but the climate of witch-hunting about homosexuality, fueled by those who, under the gentle and paternal appearance of the shepherd, spread hatred. This was the church of Saint John Paul II but it was also the church of Benedict XVI and unfortunately it is still the church of Pope Francis.

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A TRUE STORY OF A GAY PRIEST

Newspapers write many times stories of gay priests and gay prelates who give themselves to the good life taking advantage of their prestige and their social position and combining meetings with male prostitutes or with guys who for some reason cannot subtract themselves. Although managing a gay site for years and despite having met several times priests and religious through that site, I must say that what I saw is completely different from what can be read in the newspapers. For the sake of honesty and with the consent of the person of whom I speak, which unfortunately is no more alive, I would like to tell here the true story of a gay priest I met through the chat. I think it is proper to make people understand the real extent of the problem, which is not in the scandalous behavior of someone, scandalous especially for the gays themselves as well as of course for the Church, but in the deep suffering of many, according to what I can see, of  the great majority of gay priests. 
 
Several years ago, I was in chat with a priest who was fifty years old at the time. The dialogue between us was characterized, at the beginning, by a certain mutual distrust. It seemed strange to me to be contact by a priest, it was a rather rare event and I thought it could be the usual fake that needs to have fun abusing a gay chat (and unfortunately there are several fake), then, over the weeks dialogue between us became particularly serious, I will quote below some passages (I call the priest who speaks to me Paul, fictitious name, I’m project):
 
Paul writes: Don’t be surprised, project, there are many  gay priests but I really feel a priest, I cannot tell you if when I made the choice to enter the seminary, it was really my vocation or under what seemed my vocation there was the inability to be what I was or maybe the desire to spend my life anyway for my neighbor, doing something good, since I could not live as I wanted. I grew up in the parish environment and I felt it as my natural environment starting as a child. Faith for me was always a great value, of course I understood that there was a contrast between my faith and what I was and when I made my choice I consciously chose to put aside what I was and to follow the Lord because I hoped to find some consolation too. When you’re young you react emotionally and you don’t know that over time many things change and that making choices that are “forever” is much more difficult than it seems.
I have had several parishes, now I’m at [omissis], it‘s a nice place and it’s good people, almost all old, there’s so much misery but above all economic, there’s no moral misery, there’s no criminality, there’s no violence, there is no drug, they do not cheat the neighbor and there is also a lot of dignity even if they are poor and perhaps exactly because of their being poor, that dignity that I don’t have or I no longer have because sometimes I feel like the wrong man in the wrong place. 
The parishioners love me and I love them, many are farmers but they are really good people. But I feel in the wrong place because in a sense I’m lying to them, but I don’t even know if things are just like that. I thought that maybe I should leave the Church because I’m not worthy to be there but it’s an idea that scares me, I don’t think I could live if I had to leave the Church and then I would feel a traitor to things in which, despite everything, I believe deeply.
When I can pray, I have the feeling that the Lord is near me and helps me to move forward. Understand me well, I have never betrayed my vows but not only, when I happened to come into contact with young men I always behaved like a priest must behave and then it was not even a sacrifice because those people for me were sacred, I tell you as if in confession, if I had put in trouble one of those guys I would have felt as a worm.
The result of all this was that I have always avoided contacts with young men and boys, who might need a real priest. I put in the first place above all poor, old and sick people. When I happened to witness those who were dying I prayed with a very strong intensity that God could help them by giving them so much faith to face the moment of the passing. In those moments I had no doubts and I felt I was a priest in the most beautiful and profound sense because I was bringing the Lord to people who needed comfort.
But sometimes I really think that I should leave the Church because so many things I have to say are things that I don’t really feel, I have tried to follow the teaching of the Church but sometimes it seems to me in full consciousness of not being able to adhere to those things.
 
Project writes: But if you left the Church, what prospects would you have?
 
Paul writes: In practice none, I don’t have a qualification that can serve in civil life, I don’t know how to survive I don’t know how to do anything, I can only be a priest and certainly I’m not a good priest and I go on like that because for my family it would be destructive and unexpected if I came out of the church.
My mother and my father are old, they are happy with the idea of having a son priest, for them to have a misguided son would be terrible and then my parents live with a very small pension and even if they want to help me, because I think they wouldn’t abandon me anyway, they can’t feed me too.
Then if I think of the idea of having a partner, well it’s just tragic. But who would put himself with a 50-year-old ex-priest who dies of hunger? Nobody at all and I wouldn’t go with anyone, apart from the fact that I’m old my parents would still feel me distant because I now come from an environment a very different from theirs.  And then that world has not only been mine but it is still now and it would still remain so if I left the church. It is not only the fear of the outside that doesn’t make me take a step like that, but it is also the fact that the Church is my real world, a world in which I feel useful. When someone comes to confession, something very rare apart from the old ladies who should be sanctified because they are incapable of doing anything wrong, when someone comes to confession, I always ask him/her to pray for me because sometimes I don’t know how to manage my relationship with the Lord, I cannot understand what He wants from me. In fact I know very well that I have no choices and that I can only go on like now and over the years I will perhaps end up putting aside even the doubts that still exist, but I wonder why the Lord asks me such a big sacrifice, I mean big for me because there are people who bear much worst things with so much faith, it is not that I want who knows what, but it is this state of dissatisfaction that I feel inside that overwhelms me, I wonder not how it is possible that the Lord wants me priest, but how is it possible that He wants a priest like me, with this half faith, with all these ifs and buts. Sometimes I think I’m not a priest but that I “act” as a priest a bit like any other job and then I think I’m cheating on the Lord.
 
The dialogue with Paul went on for several months, even if with long intervals, and the relationship of esteem and mutual respect has consolidated. One day he told me that he was not well and that he would have to make some investigations, he made them and it resulted that he had an advanced tumor. He was operated. After the surgery, which failed to stem the problem but weakened even more his body, he called me for the last time. The conversation was very short.
 
Paul writes: it went wrong, they told me that I will only do palliative care. You remember, we thought the problem was one and instead the real problem was another. I am very tired, I go to rest, I ask you only one thing: pray for me.
 
Project writes: I will certainly do it. A big hug.
 
Paul writes: You have done a lot for me. Hello Friend.
 
This was our last chat conversation. I can say that I keep inside me the memory of this priest and his suffering humanity, that’s why when I hear about gay priests in a scandalistic way I get angry, what I saw in these people is neither stupidity nor arrogance but silent suffering and torn conscience. The topic of gay priests should be treated with the utmost respect and I say this as a deeply lay person.
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A GAY GUY SAVED FROM REPARATIVE THERAPIES

Im 31 years old and, after a long struggle with myself, I started to live again, I have been destroying myself for several years and I think I have found happiness just a couple of years ago. I often hear people exalting family as if it were a beautiful thing, that is, as if it were the ideal place for a boy to grow up serenely but for me, and I’m only realizing it now, the family has been a terrible place. From outside my family seems a family like many others, a father who has a good job (very good), a mother who worked but then left the job after my birth to devote herself completely to me (unfortunately she did!). Both my parents are of a good cultural level. 
 
I have no memories of any of my grandparents, but I think that my grandparents have been the ruin of my parents, just as my parents have been my ruin and maybe even worse. Both my father and my mother are only children exactly like me. I have never once seen my father and mother exchange a gesture of tenderness so as I have never seen my father tired or unkempt or my mother not perfectly settled. My mother has always been a freak of order, cleanliness, etc. etc. … The fundamental value that has always dominated my family is social prestige. My parents are wealthy, we can say it, but they are not rich in the true sense of the word, certainly, for them, not feeling up to their world would be a great suffering. I grew up being alone or with people much older than me.
 
The school was an obsession for me since elementary school, I couldn’t be the second in my class, I had to be the first one and this cost me a lot. My mother sometimes asked me questions, questions like those the teacher asks at school, just to see if I was able to answer. My parents were very attached to the church, today I think it was more for reasons of opportunity and politics than for religion itself. In particular since I was seven or eight years old I often saw a priest in my house who could have been about forty years old, I will call him Don Luigi here. Today I say a “prete”, but then I said “sacerdote” [the two words mean “priest” but while “prete” in a common word, “sacerdote” is the official word, used by the Church itself ], because my mother was convinced that, under the word priest, said by me, there could be something quite derogatory. He was an important priest, very respected and then he struck me because he was a bit my father’s ecclesiastical version: short hair like Germans, perfect clergyman, always perfectly ironed, shiny shoes, etc. …
 
I understood only many years later how much this priest has influenced my life since I was very young. It was Don Luigi who, in practice, decided that I had to attend elementary school in an institute of nuns, but I don’t have a bad memory of the school or of the nuns, except for the fact that the environment was almost military and the study was really a torment for me. But that school had two big flaws that I didn’t see at the time, in the first place it was totally out of the world, that is it was all muffled, muted, the children grew up and didn’t realize they lived in a world completely separate from reality and then there was the fact that the children were addressed to religion beginning from 6-7 years old with a substantial brainwashing of which they could not absolutely realize the consequences because they lacked any possibility of comparison with the lives of other boys.
 
At seven years old the sisters prepared us for the first confession, but a seven-year-old boy has very little to confess, so I assimilated all external attitudes; clasped hands, kneeling, reciting penance, etc. etc., What the priest told me in confession at that age was always that I had to obey my father and my mother like I had to obey Jesus, who loves us if we do what he commands us.
 
Toward the end of the fifth grade I made my first communion, but I still didn’t understand anything about what I was doing. The sisters taught us catechism and I studied it like any school subject and I was also proud to know why God had created the world, etc. etc. … The choice of middle school, even this in a religious institution, was warmly sponsored by Don Luigi who said that for me a “serious school” was needed, serious for him was the same as religious, that would prepare me well for what life would have presented to me, implying that the public school was a very bad environment in which I could only have ruined myself. In the seventh and eighth grade the environment was quite similar to that of the nuns, even though there were no nuns but priests. The school sometimes, I would say quite frequently, organized a camping or a stay in the country for three days and I liked it a lot. They called them “retreats” and were used to prepare for the confirmation I received at age 12.
 
My life was completely quiet, confession and communion every Sunday, which for me was a obvious but also very mechanical thing, for the rest I had to study and to try to be the first in the class, at home I had to obey dad and mom, that was all.
 
Then, suddenly, at the beginning of the eighth grade, my world of child safety goes into crisis. One night, for the first time I have a wet dream and I remember perfectly that I had dreamed that I was spying on one of my classmates in the shower, or rather, before he undressed to get a shower, when I imagined that his underwear was down I had my first orgasm. The dream, I still remember, was really exciting and the physical sensation of my first orgasm was very intense and even the impression, vaguely embarrassing, that I felt later, feeling all wet and sticky, was very strong. I didn’t know what had happened because I knew why God had created the world but didn’t know that sexuality existed, or at least I couldn’t connect what had happened to me with that minimum of concepts about sex that I had been able to steal from the external world, in practice only from TV because the internet in my house had never existed except as a working tool for dad.
 
In short, it was the first time I felt embarrassed for sexuality. I didn’t know what to do: talk with dad or with mom? And then tell them everything? Even that I dreamed of spying on a friend of mine and of seeing him naked? Or would I have to go immediately to confess because dreaming of such a thing is surely not a good thing? And then what was all that sticky substance that I had found on myself. I decided to avoid my mother, because I thought she would not understand, I went to talk to my father who immediately understood what had happened, but I didn’t tell him that I had dreamed of seeing a naked boy. He told me that now I was growing up and that what had happened was the awakening of my sexuality and that it was not a dangerous thing but in order to have a serious advice on how I would have to deal with these things I had to talk to the priest.
 
I understood only many years after the absurdity of a similar speech, at that time the answer seemed to me clear and comprehensive. I went to confession in the afternoon with a priest I didn’t know because I was very ashamed, I found an old man who told me that those things are useful when you get married and have children and that until then you have to maintain purity, that is you have to preserve absolutely a gift so great that can make you a collaborator of God in spreading the gift of life. Then I told him, almost as if it were a banality, what I had dreamed of and he stopped and told me: “This is a serious sin because men are made for women and women for men”, and added that I had to pray much for Jesus to make me return to the right path, etc. etc., then he gave me the absolution. For me it was a tremendous shock. What had I done wrong? I really could not understand it.
 
However, I decided not to say anything to my father about what had happened in confession and to commit myself to the maximum so as not to think any more about those things that I had been said were a serious sin. Since then, maybe I was still 12 years old or I had just turned 13, my life became a continuous struggle against myself. I discovered masturbation after a few days, but with serious feelings of guilt and with even greater guilt feelings, I continued in my gay sexual fantasies. I went to confession every Sunday with a different priest telling him just that I had masturbated because for me the sin was that. From the priests I heard things of all the colors, always on the negative, clearly, but with many different degrees of negativity.
 
After the intermediate school, my fate was marked, and for the intervention of Don Luigi I ended up for the third time in a religious school, always of priests, like the middle school, even if of another order, there is no need to say that I was sent to the classic high school, the thing was obvious a priori. A mixed class with a predominance of girls, however, the guys were a dozen, not very few. Of course I had attended also elementary and intermediate school in mixed classes of boys and girls together, at the time such a thing seemed quite secondary to me, but entering the ninth grade I saw things in another way, that is I had begun to look at the boys, clearly with the maximum circumspection and with a thousand scruples of conscience, but I had begun to look at them. I knew I should not have looked at them but I couldn’t not help looking at them.
 
At school there was very little to do, surveillance was very strict and at most you could have seen smiles between a boy and a girl and also this with a lot of sense of limit. In practice, I experienced anguish all the years of gymnasium-Lyceum, not for school, where I was definitely not the first, with great disappointment of my mother, but for sex. Attempts to repress me have been really absurd because when I entered the Gymnasium I received as a gift my first computer and my first internet access with the warning on the part of my parents that “this must be switched on only for school and when we are at home”. But as the facts didn’t follow the words, I almost immediately started to go on the internet to look for gay photos and videos (which at that time were still few and very short). With internet the frequency of masturbation has increased exponentially, once a day and even more.
 
To this my very private sexual life corresponded the confessions in which I had begun to tell the priest that I had gay fantasies and in confession I was told by the priest and starting from the first time that in order to definitively solve this problem and to have a normal life one could resort to a psychologist, because there are very good psychologists who can help the boys to “get back on track”, I was then 16 years. That’s how I made the most absurd decision of my life, as if it were a heroic choice of which I had to feel proud: I would have gone to a psychologist to get out of this story of masturbation and homosexuality, but how? My parents should have known it. I thought to tell my parents that I didn’t sleep at night, that I felt very agitated and that I wanted to talk to a psychologist, in response I was told that Don Luigi was precisely a psychologist and that I could talk with him. Against such a proposal my refusal has been categorical. My mother tried to insist, I ended up convinced not to talk to Don Luigi but to contact a “serious psychologist” indicated by him. I knew that there was professional secrecy and I tended to trust.
 
After a few days I went to the first appointment with the psychologist, he must have been between 35 and 40 years, everything was very ritual, bed, notebook, low light, etc. etc., I was a little frightened, I told him of my problem: “compulsive masturbation and homosexuality, etc. etc.”. He tells me that a lot can be done but that my commitment must be total.
 
After the first sessions he makes me compile some tests and gives me a book to read about reparative therapies where there are terrible stories of homosexuals finished badly, I bring the book home and hide it because I don’t want my parents to find it, I read the book but it makes me sick, the psychologist tells me that my doctor should prescribe me anxiolytics but I don’t want to take medicines, then he sends me to a religious group that deals with these things and tells me that “operating on two fronts” things are much easier.
 
The group met in the evening, going there for me was an experience of a terrible self-inflicted violence. I resisted only the first two meetings, then I told the psychologist that I couldn’t take it anymore, he tries to insist on getting me back to the religious group saying it’s for my own good. But I had no intention of going back there, so he proposed a more gradual way …
 
In the meantime, I had practically stopped studying for school and I found myself with a debt in Greek that made my mother go on a rampage. I turn seventeen and I feel truly destroyed, a nothingness destined for failure. I spend a whole night crying, I cannot do it any more, I’m tired even of my live, I’m truly at the limit.
 
Talking to a classmate of mine, I come to know that she goes to a psychologist and that she is well with him. I tell my mother that I want to change the psychologist, she sees me right on the edge and does not object. I wait for the day of the first date.
 
The environment is Spartan, just reduced to the minimum, the psychologist is old, about sixty, white hair, sweater. We shake hands and he tells me to sit down in an armchair, he sits in a chair in front of me, I tell him my problem: “compulsive masturbation and homosexuality”, he asks me: “masturbation how often?” I tell him “Even once a day” that seemed to me very much, he smiles, opens his arms and says, “And with this? This is the norm!” I insist: “But with homosexual fantasies …” And he answers me:” So what? If one is gay it’s obvious that he thinks about guys and not about girls, these are normal things!” I told him: “I do not know what to do anymore, I can’t  go on, I’m just at the limit … “. Then he let me tell a little about my life and he told me: “We must simplify things, you don’t have to do the things that others tell you but what you want, you don’t have to live badly, because otherwise later you’ll have a thousand regrets, you’re a very young boy, a gay boy, so what? What’s the problem? The absurdity, for a gay guy, is to force himself to desire to be no longer gay or worse to commit to not being gay anymore! You must begin to become autonomous, to do what you think is right, the problem lies in the fact that you are worried for things that don’t concern you, for things that others want from you, but you must do only what you want. You will have problems because your family will not easily accept your freedom of doing what you want, but your autonomy you have to earn it day after day.”
 
When I got home I felt free, the feeling was very strange but I knew that the things that this psychologist had told me were basically those I didn’t have the courage to say to myself. It was not easy to build a real autonomy because actually my parents did everything to put me in trouble, and here the psychologist was really useful. Now I have a boyfriend for two years and I love him deeply, he also helped me a lot, he had an enormous patience with me. Now we live together! One day we were walking on the road and I told him: “Take me by the hand!” He looked at me questioningly as asking why, and I added: “There is Don Luigi!” And then he hugged me and kissed me in the street, that’s why I love him!
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A GAY IN LOVE

Hello Project,
I’m 22 years old, I think I have always felt gay, even if in practice it’s only three months now that I have definitively put aside the idea of being heterosexual. In this, your forum has played an important role in helping me overcoming fears, because my refusal came from the negative idea I had of homosexuality. In fact, gay project is a unique thing on the web and reading it every day I realized that I feel very close to the guys who write there and there is another thing, that I see that being gay in the end doesn’t mean being condemned to loneliness, that is to say it doesn’t necessarily mean to remain without friends, I speak of gay friends, nor without a love. My life, if I put aside the sex, it would not be so bad, in June I’ll take the first degree in a scientific discipline and then I’ll have to do the masterly degree but it seems a quite quiet road, maybe, afterwards, finding work will be much more complicated but, for a few years more, I just have to go on my way that is already defined.

I have two parents who love me and I think they are smart people. I never thought about coming out with them because until a few months ago I was not even totally convinced that I was gay and I didn’t like the word at all, then I got used to it and now it feels like a common word or even a nice word, at the limit, also a good thing because, I cannot hide it, I like guys, I don’t look at girls, it doesn’t come naturally, while a nice guy, especially a sweet guy, with a beautiful smile, sends me into ecstasy. As for sex my interests have always been directed towards guys even if until now in practice there has been no chance because I don’t even know how to behave, shortly, if about a guy you don’t even know if he’s gay or not, you have to be very careful about how you behave. Now, frankly, I don’t think I will speak about my sexuality with my parents and not out of fear or anything but because I think that such things are only my own things and that I must find my way alone.

Reading the forum I discovered that there are a lot of guys like me, I’m gay, of course, but I’m above all myself, I don’t identify with my being gay, or at least I don’t think that life can be reduced to a single common denominator . I’m a believer, but this is another story that creates many problems because I don’t like to keep a foot in both camps, but then, maybe, about religion we will speak in private (if you want to give me your msn). At the moment I still cannot think of sex in a totally positive way, that is, without feeling upset and without feelings of guilt, it’s a bit, I think, the consequence of my religious education and I don’t hide that reading what you write I thought that about this I’m still far behind and that I try to sublimate a lot, to take things a lot on an emotional level, eliminating as far as possible the most direct sexual implications.

Will I ever be able to stay with a boyfriend sexually? I really don’t know and I have to say that it is probably this that curbs myself, I feel bound, inhibited, still very conditioned. With my parents, even as a child, I have never had an opportunity to talk about sex, I have never seen them in an attitude of tenderness, they are very rational and at least apparently detached from these things, even with me no effusions, i.e. our family behavior has always been a bit cold. And then there are many other problems, that is I don’t know if I’m up to it and how to behave with a guy, I cannot even imagine such things but at the moment I avoid to find myself concretely in front of the problem.

I have been neither able to live masturbation without problems and religion has a lot to do with this, I have already said that I don’t like to keep one foot in both camps but I don’t want to throw away all my previous life because I feel it as a value but I don’t want to talk about such things now. In practice I’m a bit in struggle with myself: have I to be 100% gay? I’m not talking about strange things but just having a guy and living a real couple life, or perhaps my being gay must be just a matter of fantasy? Because, if, at the end, I don’t feel like at all of really throwing myself into a relationship that I don’t feel really mine, what can I do? And if it goes wrong? If I then find a guy who looks a nice guy but then everything is different? If I didn’t want to stay with him feeling myself pressed by him, then wouldn’t it be better to be alone? Apart from the fact that I’m terrified of the diseases and even if you do the tests, as you say, in the end you would never be sure that he doesn’t behave at risk with others, and anyway it is not even a thing of risky behavior I would not bear to be betrayed and instead I think that something similar sometimes really happens.

At the university there is a beautiful guy, I have no doubt that he is straight because when he comes close to some girl he behaves tenderly, smiles, makes a lot of cuddling (also beautiful to see) but for this reason I’m quite angry, when he talks to me (because we speak a minimum), he takes on another tone, a loose tone, yes, but deliberately distracted, and he does it also with other guys. He’s not the guy of my dreams, even if he’s beautiful and also sexy, but sexy in a natural way, the guy of my dreams is another that I had met in the parish but now it he’s very far away, occasionally we meet outside, unfortunately he left his studies, I think more for economic reasons than anything else.

When we talk, I always try to insist on the fact that he should try to go back to university, where he also was fine and in a very difficult faculty. I would feel happy if this guy would resume his studies, with a single year he could finish the triennial course, he is very tempted and I think the family would do anything to let him go on. Unfortunately it doesn’t attend my faculty, otherwise I could have been useful in another way but he attends one of those very hard, he has a very strong attitude for studying and is also very smart.

Now he is working but he told me that he has not completely left the study and that he is still preparing a very important exam that he would like to take if he ever resumes his studies. This sentence made me immensely pleased because it means that he has in mind to actually restart attending university.

We live in a country 40 km from the city where there is the university and I told him that I would accompany him, both on the outward and on the return journey, and that we could have lunch together at the cafeteria. I had the impression that this speech pleased him. We meet on average once a week but when it happens, we are talking more than an hour and I think it pleases him, of course I’m pleased, there is an exchange of smiles that I like very much, apparently the speech is disengaged because we speak only of university and prospects for the future, yet it is very well. I don’t know how much he feels involved, but I feel him as the guy of my dreams, I feel like we’re already building something together and it could even be true! What does sex have to do with all this? Well, for me sex has to do with it, I cannot deny it, being close to him makes me feel a very strong sexual involvement. When we meet, I always fear that he has other things to do but it doesn’t happen and we usually talk for a while in a very serious way. I want to say that he tells me what he thinks even if we are talking only about things of study and of the future, I believe that a serious relationship has been created. He’s gay? I don’t know, I cannot even say whether I would rather he was gay or not, now I feel good this way, he’s a special friend, and it really is, I’m not imagining everything by myself.

Time will make me understand where we are going. Can you fall in love with someone you only see for an hour a week without even know if he’s gay? It happens to me and then so I can sublimate this thing just as I like it, I don’t feel forced to make decisions or do things that I don’t feel ready to do yet, or rather I hope that slowly with this guy things change both for him and for me and that we can get to discover slowly and together that we love each other and that what we want is just to be close one another. I must say, however, that all this reasoning so many times puts me in crisis because there is no objective basis, there are only some impressions that could be completely misleading. Am I sublimating too much? That is, I’m running away from reality and I’m trying to take refuge in the world of fairy tales that are beautiful but have nothing real?

Frankly I don’t know, now my mood is this, I feel in love, it is the first time that the life of another guy interests me in a deep sense, I feel like to love him. I know that you say that serious stories always begin reciprocally, but could not his reactions hide a reality very similar to mine? He never talks about girls, he is happy to talk to me, he feels encouraged and above all he smiles at me like no one else has ever done. Project, if you want to have a chat with me my msn is [omissis], I feel a bit stalled, I’m happy but I would like so much an explicit answer even if I’m the first not to speak clearly, I even thought of coming out with him, to tell him everything even if I felt totally uncertain. Thank you for your patience in reading this whole novel up to here. I’m waiting for your response. A hug.

Laurence

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