Story . . .
Note: "Phil's Story" is an
"unfolding" story of sorts since Phil is actively
adding to his story by adding a new "chapter" every
couple of months or so. Please check back to see his
latest "installment." For your convenience,
we've added links below to take you to the latest installment
whenever you come back to visit.
Part I: The Early Years
Part II: The Courtship
Part III: Marriage--The First Year
Part IV: Phil Struggles To Make His
Marriage Work (added January, 2000)
Part I: The
I knew I was different when I was five or six years old.
I couldn't have told you how I was different. I just knew
that I didn't relate to men and women, boys and girls the way I
was expected to.
When I got to seventh grade, when I was 12 years old, I put
two and two together. I was going through puberty, having
the feelings you have at that age, and I realized that what I
was feeling might mean that I might be a homosexual.
"Homosexual" was the best word I had for it.
I also had "queer", "homo", "pato"
I felt overwhelmed. I guess I was in shock.
Homosexuality was certainly not something I had ever expected to
have to deal with.
My first reaction was instinctive. I knew I had to keep
this a secret. I knew I couldn't tell anyone. I knew
there was no one to tell.
Next, I went through a period of self-loathing. I took
all the things I believed about homosexuals, turned it around
and put it back on me. The self-loathing was so intense,
it burned itself out in a few days.
The self-loathing was soon replaced by depression and
thoughts of suicide.
At 12 years old, I believed the worse thing that could happen
to a boy was to grow up to be a homosexual. To be honest,
I don't know where I got my ideas. My father and mother
never sat me down and talked to me about homosexuality. My
church never preached against it. Yet, I believed everyone
hated homosexuals and homosexuals lead miserable, unloved lives,
and that for them death was a blessing. I remember feeling
like an old man. My life was over: I had nothing to
live for. Why go on? I decided not to leave a
suicide note because I felt it would be better for my parents
never to know why I killed myself than to find out they had a
So, I started looking for a way to die. My only problem
was I didn't want to die painfully. My parents didn't own
a gun. Aspirins were the strongest pills in our medicine
cabinet. And, a funny thing happened every time I started
thinking about how to do it. I would take it only so far
before something made me stop. Finally, I realized I
wanted to live more than I wanted to die. So, I started
looking for a reason to live.
I found that reason in my religion. I am a Catholic.
Catholics believe that suicide is a mortal sin and those who
commit suicide go to Hell. So, at 12 years old, I looked
at my options. I could live a hated, unloved existence for
fifty/sixty years, then die and go to heaven, or I could end it
and burn in Hell for eternity. I decided to live.
Fortunately, I didn't find out about the church's teachings on
homosexuality until years later.
The question then became "How do I live?". I
had a belief that complicated things. I believed if you
were a homosexual, there was something so different about you
that everyone could tell just by looking at you. So even
though I didn't know what that something was, I was sure that if
I was a homosexual everyone could tell just by looking at me.
This terrified me. But what could I do? I still had
to go to school. I still had to deal with my parents.
How could I keep my secret and still deal with other people?
I started making myself as invisible as possible. I walked
down the hall at school and never made eye contact with anyone.
I never raised my hand up in class or talked to classmates.
I made no friends. And at home, I retreated into my room
as soon as I could.
By my freshman year in high school, I was desperate to tell
someone my secret. I considered my parents but decided
against it. It wasn't that I was afraid they would reject
me. I knew they loved me unconditionally. It was
just that my parents had so little education. My dad only
made it to eighth grade. My mom to the fourth. I saw
them struggling with everyday problems like paying bills.
How would they handle something big like this? I was
afraid the news would tear them apart. There were no other
adults I trusted enough to tell. I couldn't chance the
word getting out. I didn't want to deal with the hatred
out there. I was also afraid my family would be punished.
I especially feared for my two younger brothers. I felt
very protective of my family. For everyone's sake, I
There is a book titled "The Best Little Boy in the
World". That book could have written about me.
I never gave my parents problems. I never rebelled.
I made straight A's. But inside, I was a mess.
Inside I felt guilty about my homosexuality and didn't want to
cause my parents heartache in any way. I was practicing
Somehow, I managed to get through junior high and high
school. The worst part for me was what I did to myself.
Everyone I knew was heterosexual (at least no one ever gave any
indication otherwise). And I believed everyone was
supposed to be heterosexual and only sick people chose to be
homosexual. I knew I wasn't sick. I knew I didn't
want to be a homosexual. I was determined not to be one.
I fought my homosexual feelings as hard as I could. But no
matter how hard I tried, the feelings would not go away.
The fighting was exhausting. I had this pattern. I
would try and fail. Then I would reprimand myself for not
trying hard enough. Then I would resolve to try harder
next time. I would repeat this pattern over and over
again, day after day, year after year. I tested myself
constantly. "Look, there's a cute couple walking this
way." "This time, feel something for the girl
but not for the guy." This never worked. I
would then feel defeated on two fronts. I failed at being
heterosexual and at "not" being homosexual. I
kept myself ignorant. Wanting to learn about homosexuality
was too close to an admission of being a homosexual. I
couldn't bring myself to learn anything about homosexuality.
It was too threatening.
When I got to college, I decided I was far enough away from
my folks that I could experiment. I had my first
homosexual experience with a college roommate my freshman year.
We were both virgins. It was wonderful. The most
wonderful part was finally having someone to talk to, someone
that understood what I felt. We talked for hours until
late into the night. But we weren't careful enough.
Our suite-mates overheard us and soon nobody on the floor would
have anything to do with us. People snickered at us as we
walked by. If we tried to join in on a hallway discussion,
the conversation would abruptly stop and everyone would drift
away. Once, when I got in the elevator with my parents,
there was graffiti on the door warning about the faggots on the
seventh floor. The room number was ours. My parents
never noticed. Shortly after that, my roommate asked me to
move out. Our "affair" lasted three weeks.
I wasn't strong enough to deal with all this disapproval.
I retreated back into my closet. I told myself if this was
what being a homosexual was all about then I was going to be a
monk. Six months later, I met my wife.
Part II: The
I met her poolside at the Holiday Inn near A.S.U. My
wife-to-be was chaperoning my new roommate's fiancee from
Chicago. My roommate had begged me to take her out.
He even handed me his car keys and offered money.
She called her mom that night to tell her that she had met
the man she was going to marry. Of course, she didn't tell
me that. It was our first date. My first date ever.
I was almost nineteen.
A week and a two dates later, she flew back to Chicago and I
never expected to hear from her again. Then the cards
started pouring in. And the phone calls. I didn't
understand. She was beautiful. I couldn't stand to
look at myself in the mirror. Couldn't she tell there was
something wrong with me? I started to wonder if maybe
there was something wrong with her.
I tried everything to discourage her. But then I would
hear the hurt in her voice and I couldn't bear to let her think
I didn't like her. In retrospect, it would have been
kinder to be cruel.
I was confused. I thought I was gay. But I liked
her. Don't gay men hate women? When we kissed, I
wasn't repulsed. Just the opposite. Don't gay men
run screaming from the room when women kiss them? I
couldn't make sense of any of it.
She was flying in for Thanksgiving. She was going to
spend the whole week with me. I never thought she would
take it this far. The pressure was too great. I had
to end it. But I couldn't tell her the truth. She
might tell my roommate. I couldn't risk that. I came
up with a plan.
As soon as she got off the plane, I started acting like a
Neanderthal. I was going to come on so strong she would
slap me, tell me to go to Hell and tell me she never wanted to
see me again. Great plan, but it didn't work. When
it became obvious my plan was not going to work, I started to
panic. I couldn't stop this outlandish behavior without an
explanation. But what explanation could I offer that made
any sense? The truth? I was too much of a coward to
tell her the truth. I couldn't think of anything else.
So I continued my wild man act.
There are a few things I want to tell you about that week.
My wife-to-be was a lady, even if I wasn't a gentleman.
One night, I sat in the bathtub crying. The night before
she went home, I told myself I couldn't take it anymore and if
being honest meant being a homosexual then being a homosexual
was what I was going to be. At that very moment, I looked
over at her and something magical happened. Time stood
still and I could no longer sense my body. The only thing
I could see was her. The light took on texture. Like
you could touch it as well as see it. It was the most
erotic experience I had ever had. And it was with a woman.
Now I was thoroughly confused. Gay men don't turn on to
women. How could I be gay if I had never felt anything
even remotely like that for a man? What if I had been
mistaken all along? After all, I was only nineteen and I
had never had a giftfriend before. What did this all mean?
I was so ignorant. I believed you were either gay or
straight. I had never heard of Kinsey's scale [of human
sexuality] or of bisexuality.
A couple of weeks later, I was in a bookstore Christmas
shopping when I came across a book with a picture of a naked
woman playing tennis. The magic happened again. This
time not as strong but definitely thrilling. Sometime
later I was sitting in my room staring off into space when a
pair of panties started floating magically across the ceiling.
This was another first. I had never daydreamed before.
One night I was asleep fantasizing about a man when that fantasy
was replaced by another more exciting fantasy about a woman.
I was overjoyed. I was not a homosexual. I must be
straight. I started seeing my fantasies about men as
unimportant. The fantasies about women as the real thing.
As soon as I started thinking of myself as heterosexual,
doors flew open. Family, fatherhood, marriage, love...all
denied me before were now attainable. Long suppressed
desires rose to the surface. To be a father. To have
a son. To love. To be loved. All things I
accepted without question as the birthright of heterosexual men.
All things I believed without question homosexual men could
My wife-to-be wanted to know if I would like to spend
Christmas break with her in Chicago. At first, I was
hesitant. Should I break it off? But then homosexual
panic set in. If I don't try with her, then I will never
try with another woman. So I went. It was a very
uncomfortable visit. I didn't realize I was going to be
introduced to her entire family. Sexuality was no longer
my only concern. I was Puerto Rican, Catholic, working
class poor. She was German/Irish, Lutheran, solid middle
class. Our worlds were completely different.
The fantasies continued. A busload of Hispanic maids.
In church before mass when a girl walked by. The young
girl's "uncle" caught me and wagged his finger at me.
At the airport before I got on the plane. Fear started to
nag me. Why did all of my heterosexual fantasies occur in
improbable places? Places where it was unthinkable to act
them out. I wondered when I would start having these
feelings in a more intimate setting.
Sometime later I realized I loved her. But was it
enough? Was it the real thing? I had never been in
love before. She was the only woman I had ever dated.
I decided to talk to my roommate. He was a year older and
engaged. I asked him how he knew he loved his fiancee
enough to marry her. Amazingly, he couldn't answer.
I decided to give myself more time to sort things out.
The next year was a blur. I alternated between worrying
about school, us, her family and my sexuality. I dropped a
lot of classes, got engaged, managed to be liked by everyone in
her family and convinced her I was a over-sexed heterosexual.
She came to see me during spring break. I spent summer
with her. Thanksgiving dinner was pizza at Village Inn
near A.S.U. She wanted to be engaged for Christmas.
I had my doubts but I wanted to please her. I wanted to
make her happy. And I was afraid if I didn't marry her I
would never marry. I asked her to marry me in a Japanese
restaurant. I kneeled. I did the whole bit. I
had no money, so my future mother-in-law had her late husband's
ring made into an engagement ring for her daughter. I
would finish college, then we would marry. We set a June
date for the following year.
When I look back on that period of my life, the part I have
the most trouble understanding is what I did with my homosexual
feelings. Somehow, I managed to completely suppress these
feelings. I had never been able to that before or since.
Maybe it was all the things going on in my life. Or maybe
it was my beliefs. I believed if you had homosexual
feelings, you had no business getting married. And, if you
weren't married, you had no business having babies. So
maybe I believed suppressing my homosexual feelings was
necessary before I could have the family I so desperately
wanted. I don't know. All I know is my homosexual
feelings went away and I didn't miss them.
My heterosexual feelings also went away. Years later, I
realized this was not a coincidence, but at the time I made no
connection. Initially, the feelings had been sporadic,
occurring only when I least expected it. But after I got
serious about marriage, the feelings occurred with less and less
frequency until they stopped all together. I was concerned
but not panicked. I told myself what I was experiencing
was completely normal. Everyone got cold feet before they
married. I was just nervous. Once we got married, I
would settle down, the fantasies would start again and
everything would be all right. However, I finally confided
in someone. I told him my doubts, but I never mentioned my
sexuality. He said if I wasn't sure, I should call it off.
But he delivered his advice too gleefully. I realized he
didn't like my wife-to-be. I dismissed his advice.
The wedding was only days away.
Marriage - The First Year
I had two prerequisites for marriage. One was that I
love her enough; the other that I be heterosexual. Before
I married I was more worried about loving her enough. I
should have been more worried about being heterosexual.
A couple of months into the marriage I knew I had picked the
right person for me. Not only did I still love her but my
love for her kept growing. The constant nervousness was
going away and I was enjoying marriage.
Then the heterosexual feelings came back. Thank you,
God. I specifically remember one afternoon my wife had
invited her best friend over to help her sort through clothes
she was giving to charity. Nothing sexual was going on but
the first time my wife tried on a dress in front of her
girlfriend my mind took off. Now all those little
nagging doubts about my heterosexuality disappeared. I was
home free. I remember feeling so optimistic about our
But the optimism didn’t last long. Early one morning
I woke up from an erotic dream and still half asleep I reached
for my wife. I started kissing her and I don’t know how
long we kissed but it was wonderful. Then I started to
come out of my half awake, half asleep state and realized the
dream had been about a man. I couldn’t remember the
dream but I knew. But that wasn’t the worst part.
When I had started kissing my wife, I purposely paid no
attention to her being a woman; just focused on how much I loved
her. Now waking up I suddenly became aware of her gender
and the erotic feelings stopped cold.
This completely unnerved me. No matter how strong my
heterosexual feelings were I couldn’t ignore what had just
happened. Heterosexual men do not dream about other men.
And it didn’t matter how erotic the experience with my wife
had been. It didn’t fit into any definition of
heterosexuality I knew of. And then there was the
betrayal. My wife deserved to be loved for being a woman,
not despite it.
I was demoralized. Why was this happening now?
For over a year I hadn’t experienced a single homosexual
feeling. Now I waited and worried. It didn’t
take long to find out the feelings were back and just as strong
Right away I noticed I was pulling away from my wife
emotionally. I was putting up walls to protect myself and
these walls were making it near impossible for me to feel a
sense of intimacy with her. I was afraid if I told her she
would leave me. But if I couldn’t be emotionally close
to my wife then what was the point of being married. So I
decided to tell her. But then I thought if I am not
heterosexual, I have no right to be married. To me the
whole world thought this way including my wife. So now I
was certain she would leave me. It didn’t matter.
Without closeness what was the point? And it would be
deceitful not to tell her. I resolved to tell her as soon
as possible. I just didn’t know what to say.
A few weeks later, on a beautiful Saturday morning, my wife
had gone grocery shopping and I was in our bedroom closet,
sitting in the dark, crying. The night before I had tried
to tell her but chickened out at the last moment. Since
the morning of the dream I had thought and thought about what to
say but none of the words I had come up with felt true.
Anyway, I must have been in the closet much longer than I
thought because all of a sudden the door opened and there stood
my wife. To protect her privacy, I am paraphrasing our
Wife: “Phil, why are you in the closet? I have
been looking all over for you.”
Me: “Just leave me alone.”
Wife (very worried look on her face) : “What’s
Me (looking away): “I have something to tell you but
Wife: “You can’t just not tell me. You have
to tell me. Whatever it is we’ll work it out.”
More words on her part. More tears on mine. I
came out of the closet.
Me: “I have feelings for men. I’ve had these
feelings since I was a kid.”
I started to babble then stopped and anxiously waited for her
to explode. But it was totally quiet. I looked
Wife (I couldn’t read her face): “Is that it?”
A longer silence this time.
Wife: “Then there is no problem. It’s all in
the past. You’re married now. Just don’t cheat
on me. Because if you do, I’ll divorce you.”
What was going through her mind that day? How was she
impacted? I have no idea. Even now years later, I
don’t know. I have theories but I am not going to share
them here. It wouldn’t be fair. As much as I think
I know her, I would probably be wrong about what she felt that
day and about almost everything else she has felt about my being
gay ever since.
How did I feel about her reaction? Total surprise.
For weeks I had done nothing but think about what to say and
every time I had imagined her screaming, hitting and slapping
me, telling me how much she hated me and wanting me out.
It had never occurred to me that anyone including my wife would
react in any other way.
And her behavior afterwards? Completely puzzling.
Here I had told her I had feelings for men and she was acting
like the conversation had never taken place. And she
wouldn’t talk about it! When I later tried finding out
what she was going through, she got angry at me for bringing up
the subject. Again paraphrasing..... “There’s nothing
to talk about. Remember, this is a private matter, just
between you and me. All you have to do is make up your
mind. Do you want to be married or not? And as for
cheating, don’t even think about it.”
I had no idea what she was feeling inside and I didn’t know
what to do. So even though I desperately wanted to talk
about our relationship and how all of this was affecting her, I
respected her wishes and decided to patiently wait until she was
ready to talk about it.
I had put myself and my wife in a very bad situation.
But I had thought the situation would correct itself once I told
her the truth. She would reject me. Together we
would take the only possible course of action, divorce.
She would get on with her life and I would become a homosexual.
Not because I wanted to but because I was tired of fighting and
I knew I would never risk putting another woman in the same
situation. And without a woman by my side what chance
would I have of overcoming it. I envisioned leading a
pathetic, lonely and miserable life, always in fear of being
found out. I just hoped she wouldn’t tell my parents.
But none of that happened. Instead of rejecting me, my
wife acted like nothing had changed. And instead of
talking divorce, she wouldn’t talk about “it” at all.
Her words and actions made it clear she wanted to stay married.
And she didn’t appear to be hurting even though I couldn’t
imagine how that was possible.
I alone was thinking divorce. And if I asked her that
would mean I would be rejecting and abandoning her. Then
there was that fact that I still wanted to be married. And
despite everything I still believed homosexuality was a choice.
If I could just make up my mind to be heterosexual and stick to
it this time. I had done it once. I should be able
to do it again. But how had I done it? I had no
idea. And what if I failed? And what was best for
her? She must be hurting. Yes, I should leave.
But what if I am wrong? I have been wrong a lot lately.
If only I knew how she felt.
As I considered what to do this foreboding feeling came over
me. The feeling persisted for days clearly telling me that
staying married would be a mistake. It wasn’t so much a
feeling as a sense of knowing. An awareness of the future.
It was like turning a corner and knowing what was on the other
side before even seeing it. But what kind of knowledge was
that? And what could it possibly be based on? At
twenty-two I didn’t believe in knowledge that saw around
corners. I mistook it for fear and dismissed it.
I thought about staying or leaving for a very long time.
Finally I decided not to decide because I just couldn’t make
up my mind. My head and heart were in conflict and I
couldn’t decide which one to listen to. So I stayed and
my heart won by default.
As our first anniversary rolled around I was dispirited and
unsure where I would find the energy to start fighting it again.
But I knew I had to stop my homosexual feelings if my marriage
was going to survive. I just didn’t know how I was going
to do it.
Part IV: Phil
Struggles To Make His Marriage Work
It didn’t get bad right away. It built up gradually
over time. Then it got overwhelming.
Once I committed to staying married, I was going to do
whatever it took to correct the situation I had put the two of
us in. The homosexual feelings had to stop.
Homosexuality was a choice and I was going to be heterosexual if
I had to turn myself inside out.
Once again I waged war on my homosexual feelings. The
first casualty was my heterosexual feelings. This scared
me. I didn’t know what I was doing. What if in
trying to stop my homosexual feelings, I ended up messing up my
heterosexual feelings? I decided I couldn’t worry about
that now, I had to concentrate on stopping my homosexual
I reverted back to what I had done growing up. I went
on guard every waking moment. You could never tell when an
innocent event or harmless thought might lead to something
homosexual. Every day things like the warmth of the sun,
or a smile, or the smell of a freshly cut lawn triggered those
feelings in me. But eventually I had to sleep and there
didn’t seem to be anything I could do about the dreams.
My feelings were not to be trusted. I couldn’t let down
my guard for a minute.
But stopping the feelings was not my only line of defense.
When the feelings got through, I beat myself up. Not
physically, but psychologically. This wasn’t hard to do.
I had had lots of practice doing that growing up. In fact
it was pretty automatic. There were the damning questions.
Questions like: What‘s wrong with me? How could I
possibly want this? Don’t I want my marriage to work?
And the fault-finding emotions: self-hatred, contempt,
shame, and guilt. And, of course, the self-inflicted
abuse. Calling myself all the names. Berating
everything I did, my character, the type of person I was.
I waited patiently for things to change, but they didn’t.
I couldn’t understand what I was doing wrong. I thought
I wanted to change. I believed that with all my heart.
But I must not have really wanted to change because the feelings
kept happening. Somehow I was sabotaging myself. So
I beat myself up in frustration and to break the stubbornness or
whatever that kept me from wanting to overcome my homosexuality.
When I look back on those early years, what amazes me the
most was my stoicism. I was in the midst of a huge
internal conflict, psychologically beating myself up all the
time and yet I never thought to back away or give up. It
was like I was witnessing this happening to someone else.
I took it and kept on taking it and my resolve never wavered.
Even then it occurred to me that there was something
inexplicable about how I withstood all that punishment in
And I still managed to lead a life. I graduated, got my
first ‘real’ job, we bought our first home and I made the
surprisingly difficult transition into middle class. And
my homosexuality was not the only major issue we faced.
One other problem turned out to be almost or equally as
A cartoon I once saw illustrates our early marriage. In
this cartoon a couple are sitting in a living room pretending
not to see the elephant taking up most of the sofa. In our
household, my wife couldn’t or wouldn’t see the elephant and
I was doing my best to will the elephant away. But, no
matter what we did, the elephant was always there.
Because we had been married such a short time before I told
her, it was difficult afterwards to tell what problems were
triggered by my disclosure. Not being able to talk about
“it” made it impossible to sort things out. I knew we
were not as close. And our sex lives suffered. And
we didn’t seem to have much to say to each other. And
then there was the anger. She had very little patience
with me. She got mad at me a lot. But we had other
problems and I couldn’t tell where they left off and
“my problem” began. So I started blaming everything
that went wrong in our relationship on my homosexuality.
I would have given anything to know what my wife was thinking
and feeling. I wouldn’t have cared how much it hurt to
hear. I didn’t know it then but I needed to know.
If she had told me it was painful I would have left. I
would have left because I am not a monster. Because to
have stayed after learning it was hurting her would have been
like sticking a knife in her and then continuing to twist it.
I didn’t believe she was not affected even if she acted like
nothing had changed. But having no idea what she was going
through did not mean I didn’t constantly think and worry about
it. Every day I wondered if it was a mistake to stay.
So every few months or so, against my better judgment, I
would bring the subject up with my wife. Every time the
reaction was the same. I was reminded there was nothing to
talk about. I had a problem and I needed to fix it.
I needed to make up my mind and decide once and for all if I
wanted to be married or be a homosexual. And I had better
not think of cheating. And this was a private matter; just
between the both of us. How could I argue? I
believed the same things she did. Yet I had this
incredible need to talk to her about it. So sometimes I
persisted. And whenever I persisted, we ended up fighting.
A pattern formed. On the first day I felt fine, on the
second day my sex drive kicked in, on the third day I was
climbing the walls and on the fourth day I crashed. Then
the pattern repeated itself. As stressed as I was, I
remember feeling that I deserved everything that was happening
because I was continuing to fail.
Guarding my thoughts and beating myself up wasn’t doing the
job. When my sex drive kicked in, there was this longing
that drove me to distraction. It just would not let up no
matter how often my wife and I had sex. It had to be for
men. I couldn’t ignore the obvious. I wasn’t
At some point a new pattern emerged. First I would be
fine, then I would start fighting depression, then I would be
depressed, then I would find something to fix “my problem”
and then the depression would lift. The depression would
stay away until it became apparent the fix was not a cure.
Then the pattern would repeat itself. The new pattern
could last anywhere from a couple of hours to days. The
longest lasted a month. And there were common themes.
One theme was to channel all my sexual energy into a certain
activity so I would be so exhausted I wouldn’t think of men.
Another theme was to change how I thought about things.
The hope was to psyche myself into changing. But most of
my fixes made no sense at all. Sometimes I questioned the
sanity of what I was doing but I couldn’t seem to stop.
The first pattern had ceased. My sex drive wasn’t
driving me crazy anymore. But now I was depressed all the
time. One problem simply had replaced another. What
I didn’t realize was that I was doing it to myself.
Somehow I found out depression was effective in shutting down my
sex drive. Now my sex drive was no longer a threat to my
marriage. Given the choice of longing for a man or being
depressed all the time, I had subconsciously chosen what was
best for my marriage.
After almost two years of fighting my homosexuality, I had
nothing to show for my efforts and like a watch I was slowly
winding down. I was having more and more trouble focusing.
I was always depressed or fighting depression. I spent
hours staring off into space. It became impossible for me
to have goals or even plan ahead. I couldn’t think past
a couple of days. And most of the time I was physically
there but mentally somewhere else.
I was not a good employee. I spent most of my workday
dealing with the turmoil going on inside me. It was a
conscious decision. I could be a good employee and take
all that tension home or be a good husband and spend most of my
workday dealing with the tension. I knew I couldn’t be
both a good employee and a good husband because I tried. I
chose my wife over my job. I added losing my job to my
list of worries. Dwelling on my problems at work somehow
lessened the tension.
Weekdays were easier than weekends. I was miserable and
didn’t want to take my misery out on others so I hid what was
going on. And it was much easier to hide what I was going
through from my co-workers than my wife. It was difficult
pretending to her that everything was OK. I am a lousy
liar and actor. And somehow, no matter how hard I tried, I
always managed to spoil our weekends.
One day I realized more than two years had passed and I was
still hanging on to the hope that my heterosexual feelings would
return. I quietly resigned myself to never having those
feelings again. The best I could do was maintain.
But then a few months later I had another magical
heterosexual experience. We were at O’Hare International
airport. My wife was boarding a plane and she turned
around to wave good-bye. Suddenly the terminal grew silent
and other people ceased to exist. She was so beautiful it
was almost unbearable to look at her. Once again I had a
heterosexual experience that was stronger than any homosexual
experience I had ever had. That night my heart overflowed
with hope. But as the weeks went by and nothing more
happened it became apparent that heterosexuality had again
eluded me. I hurt so much I made myself stop thinking
By this point my wife was pretty much running our lives.
I was worthless. I don’t know how she put up with my
being down all the time. Frankly, I was overwhelmed and it
was all I could do to keep myself on an even keel. Then my
wife told me she was pregnant. It wasn’t planned but I
was ecstatic. I shoved “my problem” aside as best as I
could. My life-long dream of becoming a father was going
to come true and I wanted to enjoy it fully even if just for a
Part V: Coming Soon!!!
we can't wait! Get those fingers typing!!)
Katy's Story: A teenager
discovers that her father is gay
Katy is Phil's daughter! See how Phil's journey and
Katy's journey interweave as each discovers the truths in
Proud papa Phil, with daughter Katy, at the '99 Phoenix Pride
Phil with actress Ellen Muth, co-star of the Lifetime Channel
movie "Jane's Coming Out Party" which aired on
Lifetime in August, 2000. Click
here for more details!