Our house was extremely sexually repressed while I was growing up. No one ever talked about sex. And even though the four of us lived in a small, 800 square foot house, we remained covered up all the time. Modesty was strictly enforced. If the subject came up on TV, my father would say it was disgusting. The most disgusting sex of all was homo sex, and homos were the most vile creatures on earth.
I learned early on that I was not to talk to my parents about sex, and certainly not about homosexuality. I learned about sex by closely paying attention to the things said on TV and in the movies, and listening to what the kids said at school.
Looking back on it, the way the subject was treated was ridiculous and paranoid, full of fear. I think the environment that I grew up in was highly toxic and abusive. I grew up feeling ashamed of my body. Once I realized I was gay at 11, I kept that to myself until I went away to college 7 years later. That is a huge amount of time for a young person to carry such a secret. I guarded that secret every day. I was terrified of anyone finding out I liked boys and wanted to do “nasty” things with them. That early experience wore some kind of grove inside my head that I’ve never been able to get away from. Making friends has always been difficult. And romantic and sexual intimacy has always been a struggle. Even hugs are awkward and embarrassing to me.
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