The confusion of sex/love

My marriage to a gay man was marked by emotional dryness and a complete lack of physical affection. I am an affectionate woman; it was natural for me to touch him – his arm, his shoulder – in nonsexual affection. But he would cringe as if struck, and often say, “Stop! You know that bothers me!”  It wasn’t long at all before the only physical contact we had was during sexual intercourse – which we had for most of our years together because, quite frankly, I wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

I’ve been told by several women that they (or their sisters, or their friends) went for years without any physical contact whatsoever – and I often felt that DH would have preferred things that way, himself.

Longing for emotional intimacy – for him – I was occasionally given sex: dispassionate, mechanical sex. Sex that might have been dictated by some sort of user’s manual: touch this, stroke here, kiss now… insert Tab A into Slot B… (dear God can we please just get this over with?)

Sex and love become highly confused in such a situation. Where physical affection takes on exaggerated significance, either as the substitute for love or the associated expression of denied love, then all sorts of warped sexual response can develop in us. I don’t suggest that ex-wives of gays are the only women who might be able to go from 0-60 in 1.3 seconds, if you get my drift… or who are so hyperresponsive to physical affection, but we do face a real danger of mistaking sexual interest (which we didn’t get from our gay husbands) with authentic love (which we also didn’t get from our gay husbands); and the glorious euphoria of being treated like a desirable woman, when we resume dating, can become a high-risk opportunity to lose one’s head and become incautious in our relationships.

Being used for easy sex is as bad as – maybe worse than – being denied affection at all.

How to find balance? Honey, don’t ask me. I decided to remain celibate after one particularly humiliating dating experience. I’ve had my “Do Not Disturb” sign out, now, for several years. Life’s easier and more tranquil this way.

Just be aware, okay? And decide before you date what your limits are going to be – and what you really want – and don’t want. And be cautious, too. A good man with honorable intentions is not going to try to press his advantage on your vulnerability.

Letter from a lesbian’s son

…is published here. You will want to read this – it is sensitive, gentle toward his mother and the partner who turned on him when he sought to know his father… pain-full. Read it, please. And work to protect the children. Please.

Recommended article: The Soul-Crushing Scorched-Earth Battle for Gay Marriage

No, it doesn’t have anything to do, directly, with the ex-wives of gays. But one can extrapolate a LOT about the mentality of the “gay rights” movement, which reflects very directly on the attitude directed toward women (especially We The Ex-Wives) and the attitude that any method of control is acceptable because, after all, no one else matters.

Robert Oscar Lopez wrote an article in which he used his experiences and observations as a young man raised by his mother and her lesbian partner to defend the recent sociological study by Mark Regnerus which outlines the problems of children growing up in same-sex, gay households. That article is entitled “Growing Up with Two Moms: The Untold Children’s View,” and it’s here, for your reading pleasure. Or angst – there is always the risk of pain when we enter these territories.

Well, Lopez has taken a veritable verbal beating from the gay community for having the integrity to stand up and publicly state, “I bear significant scars as a consequence of being raised by two lesbians.” This demonstrates a great deal about the overall, militant disposition of the gay community at large, which we need to be aware of — especially those of us who are still raising children.

Lopez’s further response , and further reflections on the inherently violent, take-no-prisoners tactics of the gay movement, is the immediately recommended article which appeared here this week in American Thinker.

Violent? That guy who shot the security guard at the conservative, Christian-based Family Research Council in Washington, yesterday, was angry and resentful over the FRC’s opposition to gay marriage.

I earnestly urge you to read both articles. Take them to your lawyer if you’re still engaged in custody battle. Take them to your children’s pediatricians and clinical psychologists -

And, if I may be so nosy and bossy and presumptuous, if you don’t get a supportive response from either of those professionals, you might want to read the writing on the wall and recognize that these people have bought into the lies that the gays are promoting in order to further their agenda. That is, they are more concerned with promoting the party politic than with protecting your child – and do not deserve your patronage any longer. You need, and are worthy of (I hate the phrase, “you’re entitled…”) professional services that help you protect your children and minimize the trauma and confusion that comes of having a gay parent.

The risk is real: I did not understand what I was up against when DH and I divorced. I did not believe he would ever be so ungodly…   and to this day, he insists to our daughters that his being gay had nothing to do with our divorce, and our older daughter is now very much a heterosexual, “fag hag” gay activist of sorts – at least, a very vocal proponent of gay rights, and an utterly miserable woman.

Personal experience biasing my vision? Possible. But if it happened to me, you are not immune.

Think about it. And God bless you.


A little note…

I’m sorry not to be posting more often. A couple of anniversaries in the past couple of weeks, and now trying to cope with being car-less…

The fact is, it’s emotionally taxing to talk about these things. I still find it hard to recall them, and with all the gay marriage debate going on right now, and the criticism of Chick-Fil-A, etc., I’m sometimes rather overwhelmed at how ill-informed people are on these issues, the cost they will have on society and on us as women.

The shooting of a security guard at the Family Research Council’s office in D.C., today, should alarm all of us. When proponents of gay marriage resort to this sort of violence toward people who hold opposing viewpoints, then none of us is safe. The FRC is a good friend to those of us who’ve loved homosexuals and have learned first-hand the costs.

More reflections coming. Pray for me – I pray for you.

Much love -

So – More on Travolta being gay hits the fan(s).  Just reading this junk brings back all the feelings of nausea and soul-sickness I went through when I found out about DH.

I’m praying for Kelly Preston Travolta – I hope you will, too. It’s bad enough going through this in private; I cannot imagine (thank God!) going through the ordeal of the public synthesis of one’s husband’s every… everything. She’s going to need all the moral and spiritual support anyone can give her.

Healing begins with Forgiveness

Hard week. Can you tell? I haven’t posted in days. It’s been one of those anniversary weeks where a bunch of junk has come out of the background noise, where it usually sits, to the fore of my brain, distracting me and wearing me out.

This has been accompanied by a small surge of emails and contacts from people who’re reading this blog. One of the really hard thing about doing this blog is hearing from so many people – I’m astonished how many people have contacted me! – to tell me “I’m going through this,” or, “My close family member is going through it. The really upsetting thing is the acknowledgment of depression in 100% of the people I’m hearing from.

And being angry for you compounds my anger – because I’m really angry for me, right now.

The balance of holding on to my joie de vivre, my joy of living, is sometimes fragile. Weeks like this, the memories of incidents, words, attitudes are vividly close. Believe me – I get depression.

But I am not willing to let DH have me this way. I mean, holding on to my anger and resentment like one of our daughters used to cling to her “blankie” doesn’t inflict a moment’s unease or discomfort on him. It only eats away at me – at my soul.

So I – so you, too – have to let go. This letting go is the practical process of forgiveness. It’s refusing to cling to the hurt. It’s recognizing that rampaging about what a selfish bastard he is doesn’t have the minutest impact on him – but it will rot me from the inside out and turn me into something bitter, selfish, hostile and ugly if I don’t let go.

Forgiveness means recognizing that there’s really only one justice for us – and that’s the justice of the Judgment Seat of Christ. He’ll get his, on that Day…

And so will I, by golly! So I’ve got to keep laying it down. Every time it sneaks up on me and throws itself in my way, trying to dominate my thoughts and feelings – I’ve got to lay it down.

Our Lord told Peter – we have to be willing to forgive 70 x 7. That’s not for 70×7 offenses – it’s 70 x 7 for a single event. Every time the bitterness rises, when our gorge rises… that’s one time of forgiveness. Now we have 70 x 7… minus 1 to get through.

But this really does have a redemptive value. This really, truly does serve to our good. Here’s another verse for you: all things work together for the good of them that love the Lord… (Rom. 8:28) All things. God will take our sorrows and wounds and sufferings and use them for our greater good and for His greater glory…

But we have to begin with forgiving.

Painful memories

I’m clearing out some paperwork this weekend, a quiet activity in this 100-degree heat, and I have come across some old journal pages dating back to the time DH and I decided to separate. I had to sit down and read them – probably a mistake; it’s painful in the extreme to see how emotionally fragile I was by that point. I had two friends I clung to as to life preservers, both of whom have now gone on and I don’t even know how to contact them to thank them for keeping me from being utterly sucked under.

The wonder of it is, as I read these notes, there were two men who were very … shall we say, attentive? during this time, and somehow by the grace of God I didn’t fall  into an affair. I was terribly vulnerable for one – I was warned by a counselor working with James Dobson (Focus on the Family) that I was extremely high risk for one. But somehow it never happened.

Part of it was because I had a belief that God would give me a miracle and save my marriage if I were just a good gal and followed the rules. Part of it was because these two men – very human men and not particularly “principled” in that regard – apparently felt very protective of me and never pushed their advantage.

If they had, I’m not at all sure I could have held out. I was starving for affection and affirmation – even more than I remember, according to what I’m seeing on those old journal pages. And both men found me attractive because I’m smart, as well as being … well, whatever they saw in me that they found attractive. (Modesty forbids me to look too closely at those possibilities).

Grace of God, to be sure.

I have said, we are vulnerable. That observation cannot be overstated: We are vulnerable. VULNERABLE.

And right this minute, after being alone for a decade and fighting out some tough stuff and becoming stronger than ever, and opinionated and stubborn and really pretty doggone comfortable (and even smug about) being single… if He Whom My Soul Loves (or, maybe, Richard Armitage) were to walk in the door right now and offer to carry me away to… I don’t know, it would have to be somewhere COOL! – I’m not at all sure I could smile at him and say, “Aw, how sweet, but no, thank you.”

They say forewarned is forearmed. I sure hope it’s true.