Gay Confessions: What You Need to Know From a True Story

“Gay confessions” is a term that often arises in sexual circles when conversation about LGBTQ+ rights and acceptance takes center stage. It can evoke various responses, from intrigue and curiosity to apprehension and misunderstanding.

In addition, gay confessions involve the process of acknowledging one’s sexual orientation, mostly within contexts marked by secrecy or social stigma.

The Nature of Gay Confessions

A gay confession typically refers to the act of openly sharing one’s sexual orientation with others. Of course, this can occur in various settings, from personal relationships to public platforms.

For many LGBTQ+ individuals, this act is a profound step towards self-acceptance and authenticity. It often involves revealing one’s identity to friends, family, colleagues, or even a broader audience.

The reasons behind gay confessions are diverse. While for some, it’s a matter of living authentically, for others, it might be the desire for deeper connections. Still, others want to challenge societal norms perpetuating discrimination or misunderstanding.

Regardless of the motive, coming out is deeply personal and can vary greatly depending on the individual’s circumstances and cultural background.

To illustrate, let’s look at the story of Simon

Genesis of Simon’s Gay Confessions

I featured an article where one lady took us through her journey to becoming a lesbian. At the end of the post, I invited others with similar experiences to share with our readers as a way of coming out.

So when I got a call from Simon, I knew he had read that article.

With cursory greetings, he said he wanted to meet me.

”Who are you, and what would you like to meet about?” I was cautious.

He said he was Simon and added that he was gay. That was enough for my safety. I did not want to meet some random guy who would accuse me of fathering one of his children, demanding a paternity test. Or some other weirdo.

“Ok, where would you like to meet?”

He didn’t answer directly. Perhaps he had many shadows to hide from and he was afraid.

“I love nature,” he said. I loved his brief answers.

“Cool, let’s meet at City Park then?” I suggested.

Here, we could embrace Mother Nature and catch a breath of fresh air as we had the interview.

At the City Park

I have the habit of arriving early at my engagements. Half an hour before the agreed time is my tendency. It gives one time to organize thoughts and compose oneself. Besides, you get to weigh the appearance of your guests, especially strangers, as they enter a venue.

To begin with, City Park is vast, and over the phone, I suggested we meet near the main entrance, preferably at the nearest garden bench.

Two minutes to the agreed 2 p.m., I saw him arrive in a sweatsuit, like one out on a stroll. If he came driving, I couldn’t tell. Maybe he had parked a few blocks away and walked the rest of the way. He was fit, had a flat stomach, and walked with long, calculated strides.

I rose to meet him. His handshake was steady, albeit he had soft palms, like one who had a soft life. He was clean-shaven and smelled of jasmine, a fragrance I would associate with femininity.

“I’m happy you made it,” I greeted.

Sometimes people change their minds about such interviews at the last minute. Not Simon.

“I hope I’ll feel good after we talk.” His voice too was soft like his hands.

As he sat on the bench, a monkey walked up to us, as if to say we were in his territory without an invite. I tossed him two bananas I had kept on the bench. This pleased him, and he walked away.

“So, where do we start?” he asked.

“From the beginning,” I said to put him at ease.

However, he seemed to start at the tail end when he said, “I’m unhappily married, with two lovely daughters.”

How could someone have lovely daughters yet be unhappy? This confused me. Plus, his face did not betray his unhappiness.

“I married Jean out of societal pressure. It was the last thing on my mind, and since time seemed to be running out on me, I had to marry. I was 38.”

So, he had been unhappy for ten years. He was now 48.

I was eager to get to the beginning of his story. But I didn’t want to rush him. It was his moment.

“Do you love your wife?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “I love Jacob.”

He scrolled through his phone to show me a photo.

His Husband

Jacob was his husband. He was a thick-stocky man with a shiny bald head and a bushy moustache. Nevertheless, he seemed cheerful and at peace with the world. He also looked rich. The photo was probably taken in the Caribbean, at a beach party.

“So, how are the two marriages working out?”

“Jean is official, Jacob isn’t,” he said rather morosely.

Here’s how he juggled the two:

Most of the month, he would be at the coast, where he worked as a pump attendant at the airport, fueling airplanes. I had always wondered how they were fuelled, seeing there were no petrol stations at the airport.

At the end of each month, he would fly back to the capital to be with his wife and two daughters for two hurried days, looking forward to going back to the coast. His family did not lack. He had enrolled the two girls in an international school while his wife had a successful beauty parlor. So the arrangements were perfect.

“How did the relationship start? Jacob’s, not Jean’s?”

“I was only 19 fresh from high school and had gotten this nice job as a clerk at an insurance company,” he started.

He had a pensive look. Looking back at those 29 years seemed just like the other day.

Not surprisingly, he did not have many responsibilities then and would once in a while hit the bottle during the evening before going home to his empty house.

At the Cameo

“One weekend while at the Cameo having my usual drink after watching a movie, a man who had been drinking elsewhere walked in, requested to sit at my table, and struck up a conversation. Said his name was Jacob.” He seemed to relish that first day of their meeting.

Jacob was older than Simon by at least ten years, and at 29, his hair was already showing signs of thinning.

“As it turned out, the waiter took too long to come to serve him. He wanted a beer and gave me the cash to get one for him at the counter.”

“He liked that I served him, he told me cheekily. Also, he liked the idea that he could trust his money with a stranger in a town where trust, especially with money, was thin.”

Jacob was warming to his story when hordes of monkeys appeared. Could it have been that the one monkey I gave bananas went to call his larger family? Maybe. Maybe not.

Simon offered to buy several bunches of bananas at the park canteen. When he served them, they strolled away, peeling the bananas in delight.

“Where were we?” he asked me when he resumed his seat.

“Where you and Jacob were having that beer.”

“Oh, ok. We imbibed some. It was one too many, actually. When it was time to leave, he offered to accompany me to my house, though he lived on the opposite side of the city.”

“We took a cab outside Cameo, the dark-blue London-look taxi. Uber was in the far distance then. I felt like a king traveling in this taxi for the first time.”

Here, Simon fidgets and then looks away from me for the first time. Was it a moment of shame? Perhaps uneasiness? Or, maybe both?

What follows is an awkward silence, which I don’t interrupt. I let time pass as I gaze at the clear blue sky. The weather is just perfect.

He clears an imaginary blockage from his throat and continues:

“At the gate, Jacob asked if he could come in and see where I lived. He dismissed the cab guy.” 

It was a nightcap.

Inside the House

Simon lived in a two-room house. Whoever constructed those houses must have been high on something.

Firstly, the main room was tiny and had a sink in the corner. It was meant to be a living room but looked like a kitchen in all appearances. On the other hand, the bedroom was huge. Simon had transformed it to double as his kitchen since it had acres of space. Lastly, the toilet-cum-bathroom was outside.

Jacob looked at the rooms in a drunken stupor and was satisfied. It was certainly a neat place for a nineteen-year-old.

“Hey, I feel sleepy,” he told Simon.

“Sure. Let us head to bed; I am exhausted.” Simon agreed and did not have his antennae up then.

But well into the night, something happened that cleared alcohol from his mind. Jacob placed a heavy hairy thigh on his bum. He followed this by placing an arm across Simon’s chest to cuddle.

“Surprisingly, rather than free myself, I drew near,” he said with a huge sigh.

Realization

Now, Simon faced me. He was no longer fidgety.

“Was that the time you realized you had this orientation?”

“Not in certain terms. It took another three meetups. It seems Jacob was not in a hurry. But on the third beer day out, he came out clean, by which time he had prepared me.”

“How does it feel? You are the Mrs. in this arrangement, right?”

“It is a weird word to use, but yes, I guess you are right. I feel at home with the arrangement. He is a caring husband. When with him, I feel the world is just right.”

“Is he married in the other sense? Like you. Does he have a wife?”

“No, he decided to exclude everyone else and form a union only with me. And to answer your next question, he does not mind sharing me with Jean.” He had taken my question out of my mouth.

“Is it okay if your family was aware of your sexual orientation?” Orientation seemed a perfect synonym.

“I shudder to think of them knowing because it would shatter them. But then again, it might be liberating to me if they were to know. I don’t know which the lesser evil is.”

“So apart from sexual relations, how do you relate to each other as a couple?”

“We have mutual funds and joint investments, though I enjoy my job at the airport, which provides for my family adequately. In addition, I and Jacob hang out and go on holidays like any other couple. We value our time together.”

In a word, there couldn’t have been a better recap.

Support and Resources

Now, here is the thing…

For those contemplating gay confessions, seeking support and guidance can be immensely helpful. Organizations such as LGBTQ+ advocacy groups, counseling services, and community centers offer resources and support for individuals navigating their journey. These resources can offer a sense of community, emotional support, and helpful guidance.

Additionally, connecting with others who have had similar experiences can be reassuring. Support groups and online forums provide spaces where individuals can share their stories, seek advice, and find solidarity.

Over to You

By recognizing the complexities and challenges associated with gay confessions, we contribute to a more compassionate and supportive world for LGBTQ+ individuals, helping to ensure that every person has the opportunity to live authentically and with dignity.

Are you ready to play your role?

Final Thoughts

I finally asked Simon where he saw himself in the next ten years.

He hopes that he will have had the courage to face Jean and the kids (who will be adults by then) and live with the true love of his life without constant fears.

“Any thoughts of a divorce?”

“True, that has crossed my mind, and it could be a way to freedom, but no. I don’t want the pressure I had when I got married to rear its head again.”

Post note: Simon comes from a region where marriage forms a strong tenet of a family.

We leave the park when it’s just getting dark.

I hope the monkeys will have a brighter future tomorrow when someone else buys them another bunch of bananas.

True to my earlier feeling, Simon had parked a sleek Mercedes convertible at the Shell petrol station opposite the park. And it was a shiny red.

As I bid him good night, I hoped that he too, like the monkeys, would have a brighter tomorrow… a tomorrow where he would love without inhibitions and leave his shadowy past.

What are your thoughts on Simon’s gay confessions?

James Nduati Charagu

James is a published author, blogger, and content writer.

He writes about relationships, marriage, and self-improvement to bring out the best in you.

When not writing, he enjoys having a bourbon and coke, playing with his cat, and traveling the world to discover new places.