“After my last relationship broke up, I realized that I had become jaded. I don't think I'll ever meet a man and fall in love like that again.”
John is like so many of us. We are attracted to men, but can't seem to maintain close, honest relationships with the ones we love. It's like we're characters in some horrible nightmare or
film noir
, where the main character is attracted to the one thing he can't seem to ever have.
The roots of our trauma with men come from two distinct sources: being a man in a hypermasculine culture and being a gay man in a decidedly straight world. The two of these combined turn the tables dramatically against us and make having a healthy relationship extremely difficult. We must relearn everything we know about relationships in order to make them work successfully.
WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A MAN
Sadly, our culture raises men to be strong and silent. Straight or gay, the pressure is on from the time we are very young to become our culture's John Wayneâstyle of man:
⢠The more pain I can take, the more of a man I am.
⢠Showing feelings is for women.
⢠The more I can drink, the manlier I am.
⢠Intimacy is sex; sex is intimacy.
⢠Only women depend on others.
⢠A man takes care of himself without help from others.
⢠No one can hurt you if you are strong.
⢠I am what I earn.
⢠It is best to keep your problems to yourself.
⢠Winning is all that really matters.
Where did this stuff come from? It's everywhere in our society, from the movie heroes we love to the politicians we vote for. Our culture demands that men fit into a tightly defined role.
As gay men, we like to think that we've exempted ourselves from all of this macho stereotyping. After all, we've committed the
great
masculine transgression of falling in love with another man.
Truth is, those masculine stereotypes are as much a part of the fabric of our lives as they are for straight men. We may have rejected some or even most of it on the surface, but we first learned our behavior patternsâparticularly those relating to emotionsâlike all men, from our fathers.
Our fathers exerted enormous influence over our lives. For most of our young years, we wanted to be just like our fathers. Once we got into the teenage years, much of that reversed, and we resented much of what our fathers did and said. Resentment and admiration are always two sides of the same coin.
Your first and most powerful model for how to be a man was your father. Like it or not, you absorbed many of his ways of dealing with the world. There never has been and never will be
a man who will have such a strong influence over your life as your father does.
As a young gay man, the relationship with your father became a template from which your relationships with all other men would come. What you craved from him was love, affection, and tenderness. As we have seen, what most of us received from our fathers was far less.
We needed our fathers to give us a loving model of a male relationship. Instead, what we got was the best that they could give under the circumstances, which was far less than what we needed as gay boys.
Our mothers were a different story. They were more often nurturing and loving (this, too, is an enforced cultural norm for women). As we grew older, they too sensed our differences and tried to make up for our pain by giving us extra attention and care. They saw their husbands perplexed by the son who wasn't like all the other boys, and often they tried to compensate for his further emotional detachment.
For many of us, this meant that we grew up receiving most of or all of the affection and tenderness we needed from our mothers, and very little from our fathers. This kind of relationship with a woman is wonderful, but it left a huge hole in our experience with men. Where were we going to learn how to relate to a man in a tender, loving, and honest way? Where was our role model for maintaining a lasting relationship between men (without the intervention of a woman)?
As a result, gay men were unable as children and adolescents to have a close parental relationship with the gender they would grow to find erotic. To understand the enormous disadvantage this caused you, think about how it worked for young straight men.
They were able to have a close relationship with a nurturing individual of the gender to which they were attracted. While it didn't always make them better at relationships, they had a template for what a close, loving relationship would be with their wives.
In addition, women are taught in our culture to be the caretakers of relationships. They are expected to be the ones to nurture their husband and compensate for his lack of emotional disclosure. In most cases, it is the woman in a straight relationship that does the lion's share of creating and maintaining a warm sense of love and home.
What this all suggests is that we were at a severe disadvantage for successful relationships. Not only were we deprived of a model of a tender, honest, and loving relationship between men, we also didn't have the “emotional safety net” that a woman creates in a straight relationship. Nor were we given the social assignment and skills for nurturing and maintaining intimate relationships as women are.
And the news only gets worse. When we finally met another man and fell in love, he was just as likely struggling in stage one or two as we were. All the behaviors we used in stage one, such as splitting, had traumatic effects on our relationships. We were prone to such relationship-damaging behaviors as betrayal and emotional dishonesty.
In addition to being two wounded and struggling men, we didn't have the support that all new relationships need and that straight relationships almost always receive. There were no clergy to advise us on the importance of staying together. For many of us, our parents weren't of much help, either. Family gatherings with our new partner were generally more a struggle than a celebration of our union. Even our closest friends weren't
always supportive of the new relationship, jealous of the time and attention we diverted from them toward our new love.
The cards were stacked for failure. All these factors converged upon us, making our first romantic endeavor highly unlikely to survive the test of time. We weren't prepared to have a relationship with another man, especially not another man who was similarly wounded. We struggled and hoped for the best, but for most of us, those first relationships failed after the blush of new love had faded away.
“I'll never forget that the day after I left my lover of ten years he said to me: âYou married your father.' It hit me like a boulder. In one instant I knew he was right, and in the same instant I was disgusted and ashamed of myself. I had prided myself in not being like my parents. I was educated, liberated, and free from their small world, or so I thought. But here I was, at forty, living the same relationships they had lived. How did this happen?”
ROBERT FROM NEW ORLEANS, LA
MARRYING OUR FATHERS
Flawed as it may have been, most of us used the closest experience we had as the role model for an honest and loving relationship with a manâour relationship with our fathers. It was our only guide to what a male-to-male relationship might be.
Of course, none of this was conscious. We simply fell in love with a man who seemed comfortable and familiar. On some level, of course, he reminded us of our father. Perhaps he looked and acted different, but underneath it all there were certain key characteristics that recalled feelings of safety and adoration.
In the course of psychotherapy, more than a few gay men have been amazed to realize how close many of their ex-lovers' personality characteristics were to their father's. It may have never
occurred to you, too, that this is what has occurred in your life. Ask yourself: Was my father emotionally withdrawn? Judgmental? Physically abusive? If so, have your lovers been cut from the same fabric? Coming to terms with this may be a big step for you in breaking the cycle of failed relationships.
“I've been lying to everyone for most of my life. I lied to Tom, my best friend in high school, when he asked me if I was a queer. I lied to every girlfriend who I used to prove to myself that I wasn't gay. I lied to my parents about who I was dating, what my life was really like, or even when I would get married. I've lied to my employers, my doctor, and even the priest at my parents' church by playing like I was straight. I've lied to every lover I've had about being monogamous when I wasn't. I guess I sound like some kind of monster, but I'm really not. I don't think I'm any different than every other gay guy on the street, either. We're all screwing around. But then, I think that's just what men do.”
JEFFREY FROM PALO ALTO, CA
All too often, we marry our fathers. Unfortunately, it's the only model we have of a close male relationship. So when you see your father in another man who finds you attractive, you marry him. It's familiar and safe, so you take refuge in it. You feel like you've known your lover all your life. That's because, in a very real sense, you have.
INNOCENCE LOST
A gay man's first romantic relationship with another man is almost as influential in our lives as our relationship with our fathers. The excitement of allowing yourself to freely love another man. The freedom of finally allowing yourself to have what you want. The joy of sexual fulfillment. The closeness of male companionship. The ecstasy of new love. All of these things converge in that first romantic relationship, giving it
exceptional power to imprint upon our lives like no other relationship ever will again.
“At first we were really happy together. It was the first time either of us had been in a relationship with a man and definitely the first time either of us had lived with a lover. It was such a rush to come home at night and have him waiting there. No sneaking around. We could do whatever we wanted together. Then, I'm not sure when it happenedâit wasn't any particular dayâwe started to grow apart. Every now and then I'd meet someone at the gym and we'd mess around. I was pretty sure he was doing the same with guys he met on the road. We never really talked about it. Just one day, I came home a day early from a business trip and found him in bed with a really cute guy I'd seen around. I was completely devastated. I guess I didn't have any right to be since I had been fooling around too, but I was. I've never been the same since, and certainly never trusted another man to be faithful.”
FRANK FROM SAN FRANCISCO, CA
Two wounded men, both struggling to discover themselves and desperately lacking in skills and role models, come together to find love. It is a tragic recipe filled with momentous highs and devastating lows.
That first relationship, for most gay men, ends in disaster. It is one of the most common stories gay men tell in therapy: the traumatic loss of innocence they experienced during their first gay relationship. After that relationship fails and subsequent relationships thereafter, you begin to look at men differently. The seeds of cynicism and bitterness are planted deep in your heart. You start to lose faith that loving relationships can exist between men.
Some gay men even go back into the closet after that first relationship falls apart. They may even find the first available woman and decide to marry her. Why? Because the pain of that first gay relationship falling
apart only confirms the fear that a gay man can never have a happy life and committed relationship. At least with a woman a man can create a stable family, even if a woman isn't what he really wants. The promise of stability, commitment, societal approval, and family is a very strong lure in the face of trying to blaze a difficult trail with another man, where none of those things comes easily.
Those of us who didn't retreat decided to eventually try again with another man. We did, and found ourselves once again struggling with the same issues. Maybe this time or the time after that we resolutely decided to make compromises. We were going to do whatever it took to make it work. It became an all-consuming challenge to make our relationship survive despite the odds against us.
There is an extremely important lesson to learn here.
Two deeply emotionally wounded people cannot form a healthy relationship.
They may struggle, compromise, and even stay together, but until they each heal their own wounds, the relationship will always be a struggle.
Those first failed relationships stole our innocence from us. In most cases it was not a sexual innocence, but a wonderful trusting innocence about what kind of relationship we could have with our lovers. Without any role models of successful, happy, and loving gay relationships, we slowly begin to lose hope that such a thing exists. There's no doubt that we still crave it, but so many of us lost the hope that we would ever satisfy that craving.
In fact, the lost innocence convinced many among us that being in a relationship made things
worse
, not better. The only way to be happy was to be single and emotionally unattached to the men with whom we have sex. That way, we would no longer be hurt and disappointed when the relationship inevitably failed.
The bitterness and cynicism that emerge from failed relationships can be seen in almost all of popular gay culture. In some gay circles, men have given up on long-term relationships altogether, instead choosing to settle for the occasional short-term hookup. All of this naturally emerges from the hearts of men who have not only given up the hope of having a fulfilling relationship, but are also actively seeking sexual release without emotional involvement.
“Craig and I were in the same fraternity at the University of Alabama. We spent a lot of time together our freshman year, since we were both pre-law majors. It wasn't until our sophomore year that we started sleeping together. For the first year or so, we both had to get really drunk and then play like we didn't know what we were doing. By the time we were seniors, we had moved out of the frat house and lived in our own apartment. Nobody suspected what was happening between us and we kept dating girlfriends to keep up appearances, or so I thought. We'd drop off our dates and then head back to the apartment and have sex.
“It must have been after spring break when Craig came home and just out of the blue tells me he's getting married. I was so depressed that I flunked one of my final exams and had to retake the course during that summer. Craig never talked about what had happened. âHow could he be so cruel?' I remember thinking. I would have done anything to win him back.
“Craig got married that summer, and after the wedding, I never heard from him again. I know that's what pushed me into getting married. It confirmed all my fears about gay relationshipsâall the âit isn't natural and it will never work' stuff. It wasn't until ten years later, after Glenda and I divorced, that I finally came out of the closet. Can you believe it? One man set my life back ten years!”