I grew up in a deeply conservative farming family one where the word “gay” might as well have been a curse. From the start, it was made clear: love wasn’t mine to define. My only job was to be the “good son” and never bring shame. So, I buried myself in guilt and silence. I convinced myself that marrying a woman would fix me or at least keep my family happy. In my early 20s, I dated men. It was natural, raw, emotional, and real. I wasn’t just seeking sex I was starving for love. But none of that mattered to my family.
All they wanted was a wife for me. When I was 28, I caved. I married a woman I barely knew, thinking I could fake it forever. Our wedding night was the first time I’d ever seen a naked woman, and I felt… nothing. No spark. No desire. Just fear and suffocation. I blamed stress, but deep down, I knew the truth: I was living a lie from day one. From then on, I relied on blue pills just to pretend. She never suspected. For eight years, I’ve fooled her into believing we have a normal sex life. We even have a six years old son.
My only anchor in this messed up reality. She thinks I love her, and in a twisted way, I do. But not as a partner. Just as someone I don’t want to hurt. Meanwhile, I sleep with men in secret. That’s the only thing keeping me alive. If not for that, I would’ve ended everything a long time ago. But now, the weight of this fake life is killing me slowly. I lie to my wife. I cheat on her. I’ve stolen my own right to love. And for what? For approval from a family that doesn’t even know who I am?
The worst part? I don’t get sympathy from anyone not straight people, not the queer community. I’m the villain in every version of this story. But no one sees the boy who just wanted to be loved and accepted without shame. I can’t come out. I can’t destroy my son’s home. So I suffer, silently every damn day. Is this what life is supposed to be? A lifetime sentence in a prison I built myself?
Question: Is life worth living when your whole existence is a lie?