Wifey: Tell the Kids You’re Gay!

My wife says the last few weeks have been bad for her, but she does not explain why. Her voice over the phone yesterday dragged, her words coming out in slow motion. She was never an enthusiastic, lively person but now she sounds even more tired and depressed.

I left home seven months ago but things have lately gotten shaky. We both  make good money but the family bank account is now often overdrawn. My wife, who has several advanced degrees, was never a good budgeter and I always paid the bills.

Now she is paying the bills and things are going ape shit. I have noticed the money situation over the last few weeks is even more screwed up now that she knows I will be moving into my own place. Can you spell S-A-B-O-T-A-G-E?

We had a heated discussion Monday over child rearing. She lets the kids run all over her and gives them whatever they ask for — she is a creampuff. I visited the family home a few weeks ago and had to jump on the kids to make their beds, wash clothes, scour that dirt ring from around the bath tub, put trash in the trash can and not on the floor, wash their asses, and get dinner started so mommy wouldn’t have to when she got home.

My kids have also been showing more attitude lately but they are teenagers. Teenagers are sweet one minute and nasty, ungrateful bitches the next. I try to overlook that shit because one day they will grow up, have kids of their own, and figure out what’s up.

“They are angry at you,” she said to me last night. “They saw some Web pages you were looking at and think you may be gay. You need to explain to them what is going on.”

“’Debra’ I am an adult. I don’t have to explain my sexuality to the kids. All they need to know is that we are not getting along and can’t live with each other but we love them and will look out for them.”

“Immanuel Jr. is afraid to talk to you about it. He thinks you may blow up at him.”

“You shouldn’t even be having that conversation with him,” I reply. “He has my cellphone and my email. I’m his father and see him every day. Just have him call me and I’ll answer whatever questions he asks in a level he can understand.”

“And look, if you want to go to Dr. Melvin (the family therapist) and discuss this issue, make an appointment so we can get good advice,” I continued.

She coddles my son. He is a good kid but spoiled. When he didn’t do homework she used to call the teachers and get him more time to get it done. I would say, let him suffer the consequences and flunk and repeat the grade if he has to.

And two years ago when I was still living at home I snatched him up by the collar because in one week he ran up the cell phone bill to over $400, was flunking several classes, and was slow getting out of bed to attend a school function.

He lied to his mother, saying I choked and beat him to the ground. She called the police on me without even letting me explain. They left before I could get back home from running errands but that day I made up my mind to leave her.

“I’m sorry, I was wrong,” she said. But I didn’t believe her. My wife is a passive aggressive codependent. Debra smiles in your face and hides her talons behind her back.

Because when my wife called the cops she had already found out I got down with men. At times it seems like she uses the kids as a weapon to get back at me. She is the good mother who gives them everything they want — dinners and movies and roller skating nights every weekend, damn the expense and whether they are doing chores properly or getting good grades.

I think now she is trying to portray me in their eyes as the down-low bugaboo who broke up the family and betrayed her. Or maybe I’m overreacting.

“You could have at least left me first before you starting messing around with men,” she told  me yesterday.

I know now her pain and anger is still raw. I feel sorry for her a moment and apologize for how things went down. But then I think to myself:“God. I have been away for months. Can’t she start to move on. Will this woman ever get a life?”

Because I am happier now living my true self and not lying and fooling around behind her back. And the marriage was so…over. I got tired of having to cook and do housework and bring in the money and pay bills and keep the yard straight and arrange her social life and eat her pussy and fuck her good on Saturday mornings and make sure the kids were in order while she walked around in a purple haze.

Even if I was with her things would never be the same again. Some broken things can’t be mended.

And I am also suspicious of her motivations. Is she trying to make me come out to the kids to make herself look better in their eyes? To humiliate me? Or is she really trying to be open and honest.

So today while I work I Google and research articles on coming out to children. A few articles say young children can handle the news as long as the language used to explain the situation fits their years. However, many others say wait until older children are in their 20s and even 30s because the world for teenagers is still very much black and white and many are questioning their own sexuality.

I call my buddy “Rex” for advice. He is in New York City visiting family. When I call he is walking down the streets of Harlem. Rex is in a good mood because there is so much male eye candy on the streets of New York. But his buoyant tone gets hard edged when I tell him the deal.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell your kids shit!,” he said. “She is just mad that you are moving on with your life and is trying to bring you down in front of the kids and make herself look good. You are still their father. They don’t need to know that shit!” 

Then I call my other buddy, “Colin,” and explain the funky family dynamics at play here. Colin’s voice is calm and soothing.

“Hey, only tell your kids when you feel comfortable,” he advises.

And that is what I plan to do.

My First Anniversary!

Wow, June is slipping by so quickly that I almost forgot. This month marks a year since I sat down, clicked a few buttons, and launched this blog.

First of all, I want to thank my readers for all the support. You have shown me love and support, chided me when I fucked up, and pushed me to look inward and analyze myself. I have learned a lot more from you than you have learned about me.

I have had almost 12,000 visitors and 25,000 page views since I started tracking this blog by in August 2009. I am getting readers from 119 nations, including Australia, New Zealand, Sweden (you know who you are in Sweden — thanks for being such a sweet young lady!), Peru, Qatar, Jamaica and Kenya.

When I first launched this blog I was lucky to get 30 peeps reading in one day. Now about 150 people visit each day. From talking to other bloggers that is pretty good traffic for a personal blog.

I’ve made some good and supportive friends, including Brooklyn and Cold Phoenix, who I encouraged to launch his own blog. I’ve also been able to offer advice and support to other men in my situation and get good advice from them as well. I have also connected with some very talented, intelligent and deep brothers such as Raw Daddy.

The highlights of the year: Getting interviewed on James Hipp on Blog Talk Radio and nominated for the Best Gay Adult Blog. I lost that competition but it damn sure was fun being in the running. I also fell in love (or lust?) with my first dude and experienced that roller coaster of emotions. It was a nice ride and I learned a lot about myself and my motivations.

What’s up for the year ahead? I’m tired of having a roommate so at the end of the month I am taking an efficiency apartment in the city. It’s modest and the neighborhood is not the best. However, it is close to the subway and work and it will be place to call my own.

I also want to improve the relationship with my children, one of whom is about to leave the nest, continue dating and developing friendships, and learning to take some more quiet time to just talk to God. Because he is there for me, even when my eye is not on him.

God Bless you all, Immanuel

Things That Black Gay Men Say

I‘m getting more immersed in gay culture. It’s even beginning to alter my language patterns.

When I’m work I speak proper American English. When I’m hanging with my boys from high school I slip into popular black, male street vernacular. But now there is a third idiom I’m slipping into when I’m hanging with other gay and bisexual guys — the language of the Black gay and down-low world of the East Coast.

Here are some things that routinely slip out of the mouths of Black men in the life. If you know more, let me know. And special thanks to friends Rex, Raw Daddy and Cold Phoenix for helping me compile the list!

The list!

Yes sir!
Definition: Just another way to say okay.
Used in a sentence: You want some of this good, black dick baby? Answer: Yes sir!

 Definition: Something new, trendy and interesting.
 Used in a sentence:  You need to come check out this new designer’s show on Sunday night. It will be cute.

Definition: A term of endearment often reserved for closest friends.
Used in a sentence: Wassup bitch? Where we going to hang tonight?

Don’t Get It Twisted*
Definition:  Don’t get confused or mistake my intentions.
Used in a sentence: Look we can be friends but I’m really not feeling you as a boyfriend. Don’t get it twisted!

In the Family
Definition: A person who is gay or bisexual.
Used in a sentence: See that guy over there on the bar? He looks straight but he’s in the family.

Hey Gurl!
Definition: A greeting used even if both parties are men and not women.
Used in a sentence: Hey Gurl! How You? I haven’t seen you since Miami Sizzle. Where you been?

Definition: A male asshole — a play on the words “boy” and “pussy.” Term sometimes used by bottoms.
Used in a sentence: I got some snap, crackle, pop bussy! It’s better than that dried up shit your wife got at home!

My Good Judy
Definition: A dude so close he is like your sister.
Used in a sentence: That’s Dennis, my Good Judy. We’ve been knowing each other for years.

KiKi, or KeKe.
Definition: A fun person to hang around and joke with.
Used in a sentence: That’s my KiKi Simon over there! He is a funny ass dude! Always got jokes.

Defnition: A one-night stand or brief hookup
Used in a sentence: Man, I just fucked Maurice one time and bounced. He was just a trick. 

Definition: A casual sexual partner. Similar to a fuck buddy
Used in a sentence: It’s not that serious between Demetrius and me. He’s just trade.

Definition: A handsome man or something stylish.
Used in a sentence: That’s a hot dude over there. Those jeans you are wearing are hot!

*This term has crossed over and is being used more by straight folks

Molestation and Being Gay: What came first? The chicken or the egg?

When I was a little kid there was a teenager in our black middle class neighborhood named “Butchie.”

There was something strange about him. It’s like he didn’t walk around — it was more like he oozed like oil. He was always on the perimeter of the playground, or the kickball game or the basketball court. Stealthy and sly and watching.

You never tried to be alone with Butchie because he liked to play funny games. Like humping on you. Or grabbing your dick and squeezing. Or begging you to play with his. I can still hear his voice.

“Please, just rub my dick a little bit,” he would say. His voice was so pleading, and whining and pitiful that sometimes I would give in and let him rub up against me or play with my still small, 7-year-old “peter,” which to my amazement would get stiff, making a small tent in the front of my Toughskins jeans.

“Okay, Butchie stop. Someone is coming,” I would say after a minute. Then I would emerge from the bushes and go play kickball and act like I didn’t know Butchie. Believe me I was not the only one. I notice him “playing” with my other friends too.

Butchie fit the pattern of a molester but did that early interaction plant the seed to make me desire men now? Because I hear stories of abuse from gay men all too often.

“My uncle used to fuck around with me when I was a kid. I was sucking his dick when I was 11.”

“My older cousin got me started. He used to play with my dick. I got to like that shit. We had a ‘relationship for years.'”

“I got molested by two of my uncles. One on my mother’s side and one on my father’s side.”

Studies indicate gays and lesbians are more likely to be molestation victims. Forty six percent of gay men and 22 percent of lesbians reported same-sex molestation in childhood, according to a 2001 Archives of Sexual Behavior Study. That compares to just seven percent of heterosexual men and just one percent of heterosexual women, the study said,

Right-wing and some religious groups have used such data to claim molestation can make a child gay and that gays are more likely to molest children. But other studies say this is not true. According to the American Psychiatric Association:

“No specific psychosocial or family dynamic cause for homosexuality has been identified, including histories of childhood sexual abuse.Sexual abuse does not appear to be more prevalent in children who grow up to identify as gay, lesbian, or bisexual, than in children who identify as heterosexual.”

However, being abused by a person of the same sex can cause the victim to be confused about their sexuality, according the National Organization on Male Sexual Victimization (NOMSV). However, that group said it is unlikely someone can make another person gay by molesting them as a child.

That is because most studies say genetics and environment before the age of five likely determines whether a child will grow up to be gay or lesbian. In fact, even gay people who have been molested say there were attracted to the same sex at an early age.

My family moved away from the neighborhood where Butchie lived. But one day when I was about 13 years old I was going to visit a friend and saw him walking into a nearby apartment building with his friends. He was a grown man but still lean and gangly with that sneaky look to his face.

“Hey Butchie, how are you,” I said hesitantly.

“Hey, how are you doing,” Butchie answered. He looked genuinely glad to see me but kept his head down, like he didn’t want to look me in the eye.

Before we could talk further his friend turned and said abruptly. “Look man, hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

“I’m just trying to talk to an old buddy.”

“Look nigga, come on. I’m tired of fucking around with you.”

So Butchie said goodbye and followed him like a dog with his tail between his legs.

(Picture of convicted child molester David Allen Andrews courtesy of “America’s Most Wanted.”)

Q: Were you molested as a child? Do you think it made you gay or lesbian?


When my wife discovered I got down with men I quit going to our family church and chose another where I could get peace and reflect.

Actually it was relief. When I dated my wife I joined her faith, which was conservative and decidedly anti-gay. It was not unusual for a minister to thunder some line like, “We believe in the Bible and Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.”

“Amen Brother! Speak the truth,” several congregation members would respond.

Plus my wife wanted me to set up regular meetings with some of the church leadership to monitor my sexual activity and confess if I had any “urges.” That was a joke to me. At least two men in church leadership had already hit on me. The minister had had an affair. And one day when I was doing volunteer work I found a used condom back in the utility room.

Someboy in church was fucking…

So while I was working through my sexual issues I decided to go to a more gay-affirming church. The last thing I wanted to hear was a message of intolerance against gay people.

But last summer, a few months before I separated from my wife, I got a phone call from “Sister Evans,” one of the oldest and most respected members of my wife’s congregation.

“I want you to drive me to a Bible study at one of our sister congregations,” she said. “Just pick me up and take me. It will be like going on a date. Don‘t stand me up.”

Sister Evans is a little bit nosey but still a nice woman. I genuinely missed her although she irked me by coming to the house to tell methat I was in threat of going to hell because I had changed to a congregation that was different from my previous faith. Still I promised to pick her up and take her to the Bible study.

On the appointed day I picked her up and another sister from the congregation, “Sister Mariel” and we headed to the church service.

Imagine my surprise when I got there and found out it was a lecture on gays in the church. And the white man giving the lecture was a notorious official from the ex-gay movement who claimed he had lived a life of sinfulness as a gay man but through God had turned his life around.

Sitting on the front row was his Asian wife, looking all demure and content like he was giving her the best dick on Earth.

“The reason why we have gay men and lesbians is because children are not getting enough affection from their male or female parent when they are young and they crave it when they get older,” he said.

“We have to learn how to love and show affection to our children so they are not looking for this in the same sex,” he went on.

To prove this he pulled some guys out of the audience and hugged them. But he was holding on to them a little too long and too tight. And he still had very effeminate mannerisms. So all that prayer he had done to go straight had definitely not butched him up.

My developing gaydar was spinning like crazy.

“Ex-gay?,” I thought. “Who is this motherfucker trying to fool. He is still sucking dick.”

The longer I sat there listening to his lies the madder I became. My face grew warm and my heart was beating so hard I could feel the blood throbbing in my ear drums. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

But I just kept my cool and stared straight ahead as the “ex-gay” guy espoused hate and ignorance and the audience said “Amen” in approval. I glanced over at Sister Evans sitting to the right of me and she had a self-satisfied smile on her face that said, “Gotcha!”

I reached down and pulled out my cellphone and texted my wife. Yeah, I know you are not supposed to text in church but I was pissed.

“Did you know this was a program by somebody in the ex-gay movement?,” I texted.

“No, I thought Sister Evans told you. I assumed you knew,” she texted back.

“Do you think I would have come if I knew,” I answered. “We have already discussed this matter at home.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

But I knew she wasn’t sorry. My wife is very passive aggressive, a trait she had that I had grown to hate over the years and was part of the reason I had disengaged from me. She had clearly set me up. That was cool. I had hurt her and I guess embarrassing me like this was her way to get back.

Several members of my old congregationwere in the audience. A few kept glanced over at me with a looks that smacked of satisfaction, superiority and just plain sadism. I was determined not to go out like a punk bitch.

What’s that saying? Never let them see you sweat?

Still a part of me wanted to stand up and interrupt that closet fag and challenge his archaic notions of what causes homosexuality. But then I thought, “Why make a scene?” I sat proud, erect and calm.

Then after awhile I turned to Sisters Evans and Mariel and calmly said, “I’m ready to go home now. I’ll be driving you home.”

And I loaded them busybodies in the car and dropped them off at home. We didn’t talk too much about the lecture. Just exchanged pleasantries and promised to get together and worship again soon .

When I got home I went online and read up on the white guy who gave the lecture. I soon discovered he had lost his license to practice therapy. His Asian wife was an arranged marriage through Rev. Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church.

Oh, and before I forget he was not totally “cured.” He had had several male lovers since marrying the Asian chick.

That night I lay in my king-sized bed, my wife on one side and me on the other. We were only two feet apart but the chasm between us deepened that night. It might as well have been as deep and wide as the Grand Canyon.

I’m a Fan of "Trapped with Her…Driven to Him"!

One of the most fulfilling things about writing my blog is not sharing my thoughts but interacting with other down-low brothers and helping them work through this issue. I try not to preach. Just listen and let them know everything will be alright.

A guy that I have connected with is “Cold Phoenix,” a married man with kids who like me separated from his wife and is now trying to navigate the turbulent waters that lie between the straight and gay world.

He lives nearby and we have even hung out, shared a meal (he loves Chipotle) and he has met some of the folks featured in my blog.

My writing inspired him and now Cold Phoenix has launched his own blog, “Trapped with Her…Driven to Him.” It is deep, thought-provoking and titillating all at the same time. I encourage you to visit!

10 Lies Gay and Bisexual Men Say on Sex Hookup Web sites

1. The pictures on my profile are up to date.

2. I am a total top.

3. I go on Adam4Adam (or Men4SexNow or BGCLive) to meet new friends, not get quick sex.

4. I may have a profile on here, but I really don’t get that much sex.

5. I’m not fat, I’m just thick.

6. My dick is 9 inches long.

7. I’m single.

8. I’m easy going and don’t bring drama.

9. I’m HIV negative.

10. I am going to delete this profile in three days.

Readers, what are some lies you’ve heard?