I think that pattern makes a lot of sense. But only for those who were able to mask well enough to play in that world.
The surprising thing isn’t any of the pattern that you’ve talked about. The surprising thing to me is where are the women best friends? Aren’t gay men famous for having women best friends?
My women friends connect with me deeply and we can talk about anything, and I’ve had this my entire life.
I guess I just assumed that most gay men had this available to them. I would have guessed that’s why gay men survive all that without connecting with each other, because we have women friends in our lives. Straight women and lesbians have always been my besties. They see me. They noticed when I’m quiet. We check on one another. We help each other process life. Long before therapy, I had women in my life with whom I could connect and process and share.
Because I didn’t fit the values of the gay male community, I was forced to find ways to be real with the straight people in my life. So I became a “diplomat,”and that’s how I was able to cultivate deeper friendships outside the gay community.
So true, Leo. For many gay men, it was women who stepped in as the mirrors and anchors we couldn’t always find among ourselves. Those friendships became the deep, steady ground we were craving elsewhere. And then there are some of us who grew up in places where gay and lesbian circles weren’t seen as naturally compatible, which only made those connections more striking.
I'm not sure that battle-scarred 35 year olds are going to find each other the best company, especially if we open up to each other enough to discover that what's inside has wilted and shrunk away, and our fears and sadness are all we've got left
I hear that fear, but sometimes sharing what feels wilted is exactly what lets something living grow back in its place. Even scar tissue can become the start of new connection.
This one hits true. 39 now and my closest friends are two straight guys. Never expected that!
Sometimes the most genuine bonds come from where we least predict. It shows that real friendship isn’t about shared labels but shared safety.
You're consistently speaking directly to me and those I work with. Thank you.
I’m glad it lands with you, William. It’s proof that so many of us are carrying the same invisible weight. 💙
Damn, another home run. You've totally peered into my soul.
If it spoke to your soul, it’s probably because we’ve wrestled with the same ghosts. Grateful it reached you. 💙
I think that pattern makes a lot of sense. But only for those who were able to mask well enough to play in that world.
The surprising thing isn’t any of the pattern that you’ve talked about. The surprising thing to me is where are the women best friends? Aren’t gay men famous for having women best friends?
My women friends connect with me deeply and we can talk about anything, and I’ve had this my entire life.
I guess I just assumed that most gay men had this available to them. I would have guessed that’s why gay men survive all that without connecting with each other, because we have women friends in our lives. Straight women and lesbians have always been my besties. They see me. They noticed when I’m quiet. We check on one another. We help each other process life. Long before therapy, I had women in my life with whom I could connect and process and share.
Because I didn’t fit the values of the gay male community, I was forced to find ways to be real with the straight people in my life. So I became a “diplomat,”and that’s how I was able to cultivate deeper friendships outside the gay community.
So true, Leo. For many gay men, it was women who stepped in as the mirrors and anchors we couldn’t always find among ourselves. Those friendships became the deep, steady ground we were craving elsewhere. And then there are some of us who grew up in places where gay and lesbian circles weren’t seen as naturally compatible, which only made those connections more striking.
I'm not sure that battle-scarred 35 year olds are going to find each other the best company, especially if we open up to each other enough to discover that what's inside has wilted and shrunk away, and our fears and sadness are all we've got left
I hear that fear, but sometimes sharing what feels wilted is exactly what lets something living grow back in its place. Even scar tissue can become the start of new connection.