I find my experience of "homosexual recovery" is different from many others, not only because over the years I went from bisexual identity to homosexual to bisexual and now to heterosexual, but also because this change didn't come about as the result of a particular spiritual conversion. It came out of my desire to live to my fullest potential as a heterosexual male, instead of what were for me the narrow confines of a gay life.

In fact, I used to be somewhat put off by the dogmatic approach of some Christian ministries, but then I realized they can be a help to a lot of men. In their gut instinct to go straight, many men find religion to be a big support. I tend to distance myself from organized religions that believe they have the one and only way to God. I really look to the teacher within: my spirit or conscience. Some attach that to Jesus, some to Buddha or someone else. I have found it's important to affirm people's beliefs. What I really treasure is connections with people, which I believe all the holy teachers have emphasized.

My healing has come primarily through understanding the truth about the underlying causes of my own homosexual desires; facing and releasing buried emotional pain, even if it sometimes appeared on the surface to have little or nothing to do with homosexuality; deepening my connection to and identification with heterosexual men; and stepping into my fear of relating to women and fear of commitment to a meaningful emotional bond with a woman.

Bisexuality: Trying to Have It All
My sexual confusion began even before puberty, when my 15-year-old sister molested me when I was 11. Shortly after, I started making sexual advances to other boys on Boy Scout campouts. Hungry for their affection and affirmation, I found it by giving them sexual pleasure.

Raised Presbyterian, I accepted Jesus at a Billy Graham rally when I was a teenager. I once considered going into the ministry, but in young adulthood I found myself increasingly moving toward a more universal, inclusive spirituality that included Buddhism and meditation, as well as Jesus.

In my teens, 20s and 30s, I defined myself as bisexual, and I'd alternate between male and female partners. As a college student, I met a 35-year-old minister, who "romanced" me with gifts and sexual attention. This went on for two years, but since I was dating women at the time, I never thought of myself as gay, just as a guy who enjoyed receiving oral sex from a male friend.

I always had a goal of having a family, and I married in 1984 at the age of 36. Unfortunately, the relationship seemed to decline from the moment of the wedding. I soon met another married man, and we started a homosexual relationship that was much more intense than the relationship I had with my wife. I also made periodic trips to San Francisco, about an hour away, where I was enamored by the "glitz and glamour" of the gay scene.

Fantasy, Reality Clash
My wife and I divorced after four years of marriage. In 1990, I moved to San Francisco to throw myself into the gay culture. I felt like I was going to Disneyland, but I soon found that the fantasy was much more inviting than the reality. I found tremendous promiscuity and alcohol and drug dependency, and little real intimacy or friendship.

Fortunately, I met and fell in love with a man named Ed. He was already in another relationship, but it was dying out, so Ed and I "courted" for several months before he split with his partner and he and I then became a couple. This long "courtship," when we were dating without having sex, I found was rare in the gay community, and I thought it created a solid foundation for us. We had a spacious home together, and we started hosting monthly "Meeting Men" parties as social mixers for gay men.

But my relationship with Ed was not immune to the problems inherent in homosexuality. After about three years, our romantic love died and my relationship with Ed transitioned to friendship. I started looking for another partner, but everywhere I looked, I encountered dysfunctional behavior. Yes, there were long-term gay relationships, but inevitably they were openly non-monogamous. Partners would step out on each other all the time, saying, "Sure he's my lover, but don't worry about him, he's used to my infidelity." There was so little loyalty; so little life-long emotional bonding common to good heterosexual relationships.

Beyond that, I was disappointed to find that, over time, gay lovers inevitably fell out of love and became like old friends. Sexual energy between them died out, and they became roommates. I could now see that that was exactly what had happened between Ed and his previous lover, when I naively fell in love with him, thinking things would be different for him and me. And then, sure enough, it happened to us as well. The romantic love died out as the friendship grew, as if romance and brotherly love could not co-exist. It was an endless cycle of relatively short-term (by heterosexual standards) serial monogamy, at best, but more likely, constant seeking and never-ending promiscuity.

The more I saw and the more I read, the more I began to conclude that homosexual desires and behaviors were maladaptive responses to deeper problems. Everywhere I looked, I saw men who had addictions, and men who had grown up in tragically difficult situations. Certainly, my own experience with incest and pre-adolescent homosexual behavior could hardly be expected to result in normal emotional development. Rather than homosexuality being inborn, I concluded, the problems and promiscuity and dysfunctionality were a reflection of deep problems and insecurities.

Disillusioned with gay culture and homosexuality, I moved north to the Wine Country in 1995 to get out of that environment of obsession with men, sex, alcohol and drugs. I swore off men as though they were a bad drug for me, and started dating women again.

But I soon noticed a disturbing pattern: Whenever I was home alone on a Saturday night, I'd drink a martini, smoke a joint, and soon find myself in my car driving to a local gay bar, looking for my fantasy "long-lost brother" who could help me feel "whole" as a man. Never mind that I had already spent literally hundreds of nights looking for this illusive brother and never found him.

In Search of Healing
It was an empty, self-destructive pattern, and I began to explore every avenue of healing I could find. I investigated the Catholic group Courage, and visited the San Rafael prayer group of Frank Worthen's Exodus ministry. Through both, I gained some hope and perspective, but neither felt like the right "fit" for bringing me out of homosexuality.

I started seeing a therapist in Santa Rosa whom I'd met in a men's personal-growth group. His approach to homosexuality had always been "gay affirmative," so he was dubious of my desire for a "cure." When I was open with him about a "slip," he responded, "Well that's just proof that you can't overcome homosexuality." Disgusted and disappointed with him, I quit working with him.

One frustrating night while surfing the Internet, I found the Web site for the National Association for Research and Therapy of Homosexuality (www.narth.com). I read articles that documented the dysfunction of the same-sex lifestyle, the male wounds that it is a reaction to, and the endless negative spiral so common in the so-called "gay" life.

Unable to break my gay cruising and phone sex habits, I called NARTH and in February 1999 began counseling with Dr. Joseph Nicolosi, author of "Reparative Therapy of Male Homosexuality." I set a goal of not having gay phone sex, answering gay personals, or going to gay bars for one week, the date of my next therapy session. Realizing that the marijuana was subverting my higher intention of leaving the gay scene, I quit smoking pot. This started a process of my taking action in the direction I wanted to go. Dr Nicolosi's "being there" as a mentor was critical for me to resist the temptation. After a month, I felt confident enough to cut my therapy sessions back to every other week, then once a month.

Dr. Nicolosi helped me see that, when I had sex with men, it would usually sever the heart connection. I noticed that a lot. I would have a strong emotional heart connection with a man, then have sex with him, and the connection dissipated. The focus of the relationship would move away from our growing emotional bond and turn instead to that romantic dance of, does he like me? does he want to see me again? am I cute enough for him? I saw that when I am not in a sexual relationship with a man, I can be more vulnerable with my heart. I relate to him man to man, instead of some dysfunctional variation of the man-to-woman dynamic. What I found was that I can actually have closer relationships with men by not having sex with them.

Dr. Nicolosi encouraged me to develop my relationships with straight men to help heal my longing for a "long-lost brother." I was skeptical at first, concerned that I would fall into same-sex attraction again. However, I began relating to men from my heart and soul, rather than from my genitals. Plus, I began feeling better about myself, feeling "normal" and not gay anymore, and improving my self esteem. I became more manly and powerful, less sensitive, less paranoid about what I thought other men might think of me.

As I focused more on my emotional connection with straight men, I found myself identifying with them at a deeper level, and developing a more honest and meaningful mutual affection with them.

While I was in therapy with Dr. Nicolosi, I started a relationship with a new girlfriend, and we eventually made love. It was the first heterosexual sex I'd had in 10 years, and wow, was it better than gay sex. There was more to do sexually, more tenderness and cuddling, and more to the relationship than just sex. My long-ago dream of wife and family again began to burn brightly again. When that relationship didn't last long-term, however, I found myself going back to gay phone sex and visiting gay bars again, and justifying it by telling myself that I'd always been bisexual.

In December 1999, I read a personal account in the NARTH Bulletin of a former homosexual sex addict who had found a lot of healing for his underlying masculinity issues in a men's-movement experiential weekend called the New Warrior Training Adventure. Coincidentally (?), a friend gave me a New Warrior Training brochure a few days later, so I decided all the signs were pointing to me going. (Interestingly, I would soon be introduced to the New Warrior axiom, "There are no coincidences.")

The New Warrior weekend was powerful. Focused on emotional healing, mature masculinity and inner power, the men's training gave me the opportunity to begin to release my feelings about being molested by my older sister -- feelings I'd suppressed for some 40 years.

Profoundly affected by the New Warrior experience, I jumped at the chance to do a follow-up training, where I chose to deal with the homosexual desires that went back to my early Boy Scout experiences. During this deep emotional work, one of the leaders confronted me with pointed honesty: "You say you're bisexual, that you can have a relationship with everyone, but in reality it keeps you from having a relationship with anyone!"

His blunt summation of my life struck a deep chord, and I knew immediately that it was true for me. Not only could I not commit to a person, I couldn't' even commit to a gender. As soon as I was with a woman, I wanted to be with a man. As soon as I was with a man, I wanted to be with a woman. I wanted to have it all -- the story of my life -- and as a result I was left with nothing. In life, I realized, I have to make choices.

At the same time I was hit with the realization that as long as I lived as a gay man, I was not relating to half of the human species. It was an emotional breakthrough to feel at the deepest part of me that I wanted to relate to women. In my search for wholeness as a man, I had sought out the masculinity of other men sexually, and instead ended up feeling like half a man. I realized I wanted to experience the kind of manhood that a man can only feel when he is in relationship with a woman.

Connecting to My Masculine Identity by Romancing Women
With a deep desire and commitment to relate to women romantically as my opposite, I soon discovered the work of a man named Don Steele (www.steelballs.com), author of "How to Date Young Women; for Men Over 35."), who coaches men on developing their relationship skills with women. I started participating in Internet coaching with him. I started following his advice for getting into circulation with women, and dating a couple of women at a time, to make it less threatening.

I also read David Deida's writings (www.deida.com) on the distinction's between men and women, masculinity and femininity, which helped me understand how I could not be fully masculine without relating romantically to the feminine. Deida teaches that the role of a man is to bring out the "divine" in a woman.

All of these efforts together have led me to the long-lost brother I was looking for all those years: He was within me all along!

I now feel I have successfully transitioned from gay and bisexual to straight. The change is immensely satisfying and rewarding. I started dating women again because I wanted a healthy relationship that would last. I will settle down with one, eventually. I am a stronger man now, better prepared to be in a close relationship, with more to give as a whole man.

--Tom, March 2001

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