I doubt there are ANY men who have had a gay affair as a result! A ccording to the Guardian , Cooper also hinted that she may retire from writing after her next book, a forthcoming erotic novel about footballers called Tackle. The author of more than 40 books, Cooper was awarded a CBE earlier this year for services to literature and charity. D uring the same event, Cooper accused Germaine Greer of making provocative comments solely to get attention, branding the feminist author an "applause junkie. G reer told a Hay Festival audience earlier this week that she thought "most rape is just lazy, just careless, just insensitive", and suggested the penalty for rape should be community service.
Cooper said: We urge you to turn off your ad blocker for The Telegraph website so that you can continue to access our quality content in the future. I know it.
Jilly Cooper: married men are having gay affairs because they're 'terrified of women'
I think timing is important, especially with kids involved. Your wife will grieve as will you and one of those stages of grief is anger. I think you've planted the seed right now. Her response has been the typical first stage of grief. Shock, denial, disbelief. I'm not saying don't follow who you really are - definitely not saying that. What I am saying is small steps because if you are to end your marriage it needs to be mostly amicable for the kid's sake and the for sake of your future relationship with them. Consider your own emotional health, consider your wife's emotional health and I think play it by ear just like you have done.
I told my wife that I think I'm gay last night. I was so nervous but she knew something was wrong and got it out of me. She thought I was having an affair with another woman. I told her she couldn't be more wrong. She didn't say a lot. I think she was shocked and saddened. She asked what does this mean for us? I told her I don't know at the moment. And that is the truth. I have no idea what I am going to do. I'm seeing a counselor in 2 weeks and am hoping to start working it all out.
I am confused and really worried how it will turn out. You did it, there is some relief in that. I think you are right to take your time, there is no knowing exactly where to go from here. It seems that both of you will need to do lots more talking. Dr Tom's story is a good one. My ex went back to his wife after being with me, they are actually quite happy together, probably more so now she knows about him. It is definitely easier for the kids when they are talking and not fighting. I guess having watched a man I love figure all this out, I'd say the best thing is to think about what you want life to be like, talk to your wife about her view of the future too.
Keep on talking. Hopefully you can find a way that works out for the best like Dr Tom or my ex have done. There is nothing wrong with being gay either. When you feel comfortable enough to share this with your family start slowly. Your family and friends may be shocked, feel grief and go through a process of denial. Some may deal betrayed. BUT it is up to you to decide who, how and when and if to tell anyone else. You control this situation. I am 48 and came out recently. There were some people who took umbrage, but it was about me, not them.
For my own mental health I decided come out. First to some gay friends.
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They helped me and were supportive. Then I told my brother and my girlfriend of 33 years. For most people it was business as usual. Find a gay counselling service who can provide better advice than I. Those that mind, don't matter. Those that matter, don't mind. You deserve happiness. I am happier now and honest. In short.
There is nothing wrong with you. You deserve to be happy. You are in control of who knows. It's okay to feel the way you feel, in the same way as your friends and family have the right to their feelings too. That's a big and important step to take. Good on you for being honest about it with your wife. It is a start.
It may go smoothly, or it may be rough, but you're not stuck where you were any more. I have been thinking of you frequently, because I recognise so much of what you say. You are not alone in your experience. I am hopeful for your future, even if you can't see beyond the moment at this stage. My recollection of the immediate aftermath of coming out was a combination of grief, fear for the future and an immense relief that I could stop trying to be something that I just wasn't.
I was fortunate to have a couple of close friends who were very caring, and my parents coped well with the shock did I mention I came out to them by email? Stay in touch. I'm always happy to answer questions, and share anything of my experience that might be helpful to you. You're on a complicated road, and there will be all sorts of challenges, but also good things too. Do you have a good GP?
You might want to talk to your GP too. If you don't have one you feel comfortable with for this period, there are several practices that cater for LGBTI people and families. You might not consider yourself gay, and that's fine, but a GP who knows the territory might be a sympathetic ear who can help you.
Thankyou for adding your support for Steven, I appreciate you sharing your story, helps me too. By the look of your profile photo much has changed over the last few years, it's got me interested, I'd welcome hearing more. Wow what a horrible two days it has been. There has been lots of crying and questions from my wife. And some crying from me too. Yesterday we both felt sick to our stomach and couldn't eat.
I felt like I wanted to be sick all day. It's nerves and worry. My wife is disgusted by men having sex together and said she doesn't want me looking at porn or thinking about men anymore if we are to save our marriage. She wants a guarantee from me. I told her I can't guarantee anything at this stage. She seems to think it's just a sexual fantasy of mine and I'm not gay because I don't fit the mould. She is going by the stereotype of gay men being feminine and into cross dressing etc.
I told her just because I'm not into that stuff doesn't mean I'm not gay. It is confusing though because I'm not sure I want a relationship with a man but I do want the sex side. But maybe that is because I have never been in love with a man before. All this stuff is confusing me no end..
Steven, it sounds familiar. Of course it's confusing. For both of you! Your wife, like all of us, has preconceived ideas about what it means to be gay. We are all shapes and sizes, highly educated and not very educated, conservative and progressive, musical and tone deaf. I remember the first time I went to a gay bar, and was blown away by the amazing variety of guys who were there. I had so assimilated the popular stereotypes, I had not thought about that fact, and it took quite a while to really realize it.
It also took me a month before I could use the word "gay" - again, I has so assimilated all the negative connotations I felt too ashamed to say it. I don't feel ashamed any more but has taken a while. So don't expect too much too quickly.
It will take a while to figure things out, for you and your wife, and what you decide is best going forward. Sign up below for regular emails filled with information, advice and support for you or your loved ones. You are currently: Home Get support Online forums.
Online forums Before you can post or reply in these forums, please complete your profile Complete your profile. Cancel The title field is required! Paul Champion Alumni. Let's tackle it together and explore gently without having do make any decisions or tell anyone. What do you think? Hey Steven, Nice to see you again. Till next time. Hey Steven, Our moderators will move any posts that mention thoughts of death or suicide to this forum.
Until then, keep well Steven.
Hey Steven, Family values are something that is precious to us all and no one can dictate how you should raise your kids a health professional will NOT do this. Just on your last paragraph - aren't I a stranger? What are your thoughts Steven? Take Care Paul. Thanks Paul. Yes you are a stranger, but it is easy divulging personal information behind a computer screen. I will never see you and you will never see me. It is far more difficult in person. Hey Steven, I agree - it is easier behind a screen. Kazzl Champion Alumni. Hi Steven, I very much understand where you are coming from!
Gruffudd Champion Alumni. Hi there Dr Tom, Welcome to posting on here. Hey Tom, Thanks from me as well for sharing your story. Regards, Steven. Hi Steven, You're very welcome!
It's only a problem if someone teaches them that it's a problem. PS Very happy to answer more questions if you have them. I just keep saying it is easier to just stay where you are Hey mate, a couple of things Of course she would say that it's going to feel worse, the moment immediately after breaking up always does. Doesn't mean it isn't the right thing to do. And 2 I doubt she'll say she doesn't believe you if you say you think you're gay. It's not exactly a label that people are climbing over themselves to adopt if it's not true.
It sounds to me like you're letting the potential effect on her hold you back from being honest. It's going to be a difficult thing to do, that's just a fact. Again, doesn't mean you shouldn't do it. But you need to be ready for what follows. Hey Steven, I think timing is important, especially with kids involved. Small steps I think is the go. I had a lot of luggage on the sidewalk, so I was glad to get a big Checker cab to stop for me.
I was leaving grad school at New York University and moving back to Michigan to marry my boyfriend of six months. The cabdriver, who was overweight and had a pasty complexion, sighed at the sight of my bags. I told him I was going to LaGuardia Airport and mentioned the upcoming marriage. No, I explained. I loved my boyfriend, and we were going to have an exciting life together. He was a musician in a punk band. Why do you want to leave New York? I did want to go, I replied, and I gazed out at the gray December sky as we made our way across the bridge. Then I felt a jolt, followed by the clop-clop-clop of a flat tire.
The cabby pulled off to the side, shaking his head. My boyfriend and I got married. We moved to Texas. Three months later I quit my job and flew home to Michigan alone. A year later the marriage was over. I looked down at my forearm, which showed parallel cuts running from wrist to elbow. Quite a nice pattern, I thought. There was no blood, just a row of neat little lines, a brief distraction from a lecture I felt too dumb to follow anyway.
The thing is, I have unusually sensitive skin, and, instead of fading away, the neat little lines turned into swollen scabs. It was stupid. What I learned from that meeting was to turn my future self-abuse inward, where no one would see it. On a bright spring day when my daughter was ten years old, she came home agitated and close to tears. Then she waited impatiently for her father to get home so we could watch the movie together. The movie was about a child her age who suddenly becomes autistic after the death of her father.
She withdraws into her own world and begins building an elaborate house out of playing cards. Desperate to get through to her daughter, the mother builds a wooden structure modeled after the one the child has made. The daughter climbs into the life-size card house, and the mother follows and brings her back.
It was a powerful movie, not something a ten-year-old would normally watch. That night, alone, I watched the movie again, feeling there was a message in it I needed to hear. Two years later, after her father and I divorced, my daughter descended into madness. I home-schooled her, then sent her to a series of private schools while we tried every possible drug combination. At night I lay awake in a house stripped of anything sharp or toxic, knowing that if she really wanted to commit suicide, she would find a way.
At work I waited for the call I feared would come. And it came, many times. But she never succeeded in killing herself. Throughout all this, I had only one certainty: I believe my daughter warned me, with uncanny prescience, at the age of ten what would happen to her. Stay with me. Bring me back.
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Why is my boyfriend of sixteen years stuttering? He fixed this malady in elementary school twenty-five years ago. Worried about the return of this problem, I suggest some possible causes: Is something happening at work? As the days progress, his stuttering becomes more pronounced. Our friends start to notice and whisper to me.
I consider calling a doctor for a professional opinion. I talk to his mom, my parents, and my closest friends, hoping that someone can give me some insight.
His frustration is increasing each time he opens his mouth, and my annoyance, previously well hidden, is coming out. There are no other ailments, and he keeps insisting that nothing is wrong. During a break in the action our friend pulls me aside and tells me he thinks something is going on between my newly stuttering boyfriend and the female half of the couple with whom we have been spending most of our free time. I am horrified but calmly confront my boyfriend later.
He lies several times before I discover the truth. To me she was beautiful, angelic. She was always hiding herself, her fatness, the body she loathed. I have a picture of her in a long red coat, one of the few photos in which she is not standing behind someone. She was a size Her friends were stick-thin Depression-era women who wore dresses with belts, pleated skirts, and tight cotton blouses. Most days my mother wore a faded pink chenille housecoat, threadbare in places, that smelled like an unmade bed: In happier moments she stuffed her torso into a tight girdle, as if punching down bread dough.
No one could convince her she was beautiful, though we all tried. My dad would buy her a new dress, but she would toss it on the floor and tell him she would get dressed up after she lost some goddamned weight. Then she would slam the door so hard the frame would jump. She died by her own hand. She was always so happy, so cheerful, so willing to help. They knew only her radiance, her strength, her clean house. My boyfriend, R. He lived in another city but would arrive for weekend visits bearing groceries, wine, and flowers. The strangest thoughts would go through my mind. For example, the first time I saw him with his shirt off, I thought, He got that body in prison.
Then I shook my head and wondered where that had come from. What was my problem? As the relationship became more serious, my anxiety intensified. When I was working at my computer, I felt as if R. During one of R. It made no sense. My strange, nagging fear was that he would find my Social Security card. Finally I decided to end the relationship. Before telling R. I told her I planned to end it when I saw R. Two hours later he pounded on my door.
I let him in and immediately regretted it. His eyes were wild, and his voice shook. I tried to stay calm while mentally calculating whether I could grab my keys and make it to the car without him catching me. I had no idea what he was capable of doing. My house was in the country with no neighbors for a half mile on either side, so it would have been pointless to scream. I thought about using the cast-iron skillet to defend myself.
I stood frozen as R. He also told him that I was a liar and a whore. As the truth emerged in the weeks that followed, I felt strangely validated. A police detective told me how my boyfriend had stolen the identities of roommates, co-workers, and girlfriends. He was surprised R. I worked hard all day and took classes at night. Feeling the strain, I would drink a few beers in the car on the way home to help me unwind. My wife would get angry if she saw me drink more than a six-pack, so I tried to get as much as I could in me before I got there.
The first few beers went down smoothly, and I tossed the empties on the floor. The alcohol got my blood flowing and my spirits high.
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I had been anticipating this moment all day. The radio volume went up, and the windows went down. I never worried about getting caught — until the night I almost ran over a cop. I saw a car pulled over to the side of the road with a couple of police cars behind it. I swerved around him at the last second. Holy shit. So I did what any responsible driver would have done: I floored it.
About two miles down the road, figuring I was out of danger, I popped open another beer. The adrenaline rush subsided, and a smile spread across my face. That was close! Then lights flashed red and blue behind me. Panicking, I spilled my beer while trying to stash it under my backpack. I pulled over, resigned to the fact that I would be going to jail. Instead I thought I was charmed and could get away with anything. Two weeks later I awoke on a hard concrete bench in a cell with five other farting, coughing men.
I was led before a judge, who read the charges against me: I remember instances on the playing fields in school when my eyes would shudder and my visual field would become a series of frames for a few seconds, like a slide show. Then there was the way I constantly caught my left toe on shag carpets or grassy surfaces, and my occasional difficulty swallowing.
In my late twenties, for about a month, I could produce the sensation of hot liquid running down the back of my leg if I dropped my chin to my chest. It went away but returned over and over throughout my thirties and forties.