The Bittersweet Story of My Mixed Orientation Marriage
Tragedy and Triumph
Suppose you experience same-sex attraction and are married (or considering marriage) to a straight person. In that case, this article is written for you. And for those curious about mixed-orientation marriages, you will find this article riveting and raw.
I should know. I am a gay man who was married to my straight wife for 41 years. I am now married to my husband.
Background
Me. I was, by nature, a rule-keeper and a people-pleaser. I was raised Catholic but was Born Again and became an Evangelical. I believed the Bible was God’s Word — inspired and infallible. It was my guide to marriage. I learned I must give my all to my wife. Divorce could never be an option. I wanted to be the best husband ever.
My Wife. Gwenda was, by nature, very wise and talented. She excelled in everything she touched. She was raised Protestant but became Born Again and then became an Evangelical. She, too, believed the Bible was the sole source of Truth. Beautiful in body and soul, Gwenda was my princess. She had a quick sense of humor and seemingly knew the answer to every question and dilemma.
Her parents had a very rocky marriage; they divorced after 41 years.
Edan
Me. Previous to Gwenda, I only dated two women in my life, and neither of those relationships had any zing. However, when I met Gwenda, I knew she was someone extraordinary! Each day, I longed to be with her. She satisfied me in every way and was my perfect “help mate.” I considered myself to be the luckiest man in the world. To know her, was to adore her. The thought of something happening to her — and me becoming single again — brought me to panicked tears.
My Wife. My wife viewed me as a source of stability — especially after growing up in a dysfunctional family. She viewed me as a man of strong character. We produced two children and strove to be the world’s best parents. We raised our children following Dr. James Dobson’s family principles. And both kids turned out to be exemplary people.
The Fall
Me. Beginning with puberty, I knew I was aroused by male nudity and thoughts of homoerotic activity. I assumed all males had this capability but kept it quiet. When I became married, I kept my “normal” secret to myself. I engaged in daily homoeroticism (i.e., leering at nude, attractive men in the open showers) while keeping such private moments secret from my wife. I had never conceived of my sexual identity as anything other than “normal.” That is, until that fateful day.
As a professional counselor in the Air Force, I privately heard the confession of a gay cadet. Intrigued, I asked him, “How do you know you are a homosexual?” In describing his reality, I shockingly realized that such was also true of me. On that day, at age 30, I acknowledged to myself that I was a homosexual. I was thoroughly in shock and in an identity crisis. I knew I could not tell anyone in the Air Force, or I would have been kicked out immediately. So, I went to my only source of comfort and safety — my wife. I expected her to realize that such an acknowledgment would not change anything about our marriage. After all, I was confident that she knew that, in my essence, I had always loved her and always would. So, I told her:
“Honey, I think I am a homosexual.”
My Wife. Gwenda was likewise shocked. Rather than comforting me, she gave me a cold, terse directive: “You need counseling.” For my Evangelical, Bible-believing wife, homosexuality was a depravity, a sin. And therefore, as long as I possessed my same-sex attraction, I was a threat to her and our marriage. She desperately wanted our marriage to return to “normal,” — and she believed that the only way that could happen would be for me to lose all of my same-sex attraction. She had worked extremely hard to make our family a loving home, and now my homosexuality was a direct threat to her.
Bittersweet
Me. I endured one year of conversion therapy, plus two years of a support group for homosexuals. Despite my most earnest prayers and efforts, my same-sex attraction was just as alive as ever.
I loved my wife with my whole heart. I wanted to give her the gift of heterosexuality. She was still my all-in-all. We continued to be outstanding parents. I continued to excel in my profession (albeit closeted). Some days were beautiful (just like the pre-fall days).
On other occasions, she would suddenly change into someone who was vindictive. At such moments, she would belittle me — trying to make me believe I was the entire fault in our now rocky marriage. She would post Bible verses around the house — attempting to convict me of my wrongs.
It was bittersweet. In some moments, we were right back again in Edan. We were a great team as parents. When we enjoyed a 1-on-1 vacation, our lives would be full of intimacy and trust. During such times, I was convinced that we had returned to the good old days.
Then, unexpectedly and without explanation, she would rage at me. And I raged back. We never were physically violent with each other, but our words were meant to hurt and destroy.
It was a very neurotic, up and down, brittle, traumatic time in my life.
I knew I could not eliminate my same-sex attraction. Yet, I also knew that such was the only “cure” for returning to the type of relationship that my wife so desperately craved.
So, I contemplated suicide.
My Wife. Gwenda believed that she was “not to blame.” After all, it was not her who had revised her sexual identity. She had innocently had my bombshell foisted onto her. Gwenda believed I had lied to her during our dating phase — withholding such essential information. She repeatedly told me, “If I had known you were a homosexual, I would have never married you!”
She was certain that I was having affairs with other men. She even demanded I take a lie detector test to prove my guilt. When the detector test returned clean, she was incredulous and still disbelieving. Every time I stared at an attractive man, she believed I was “lusting in my heart.”
She felt so devalued.
Therefore, to reduce her own pain, she distanced herself from me. My presence would remind her of the helpless and hopeless situation she inherited. In her logic, she had done nothing wrong in our relationship. To her, I was the enemy who had sabotaged our marriage.
Divorce
Me. My wife and I were in a dysfunctional, yet functioning marriage. We parented well. We were great contributors to our jobs, church, and society. However, we were constantly in acute pain; neither of us trusted the other.
And yet, divorce was out of the question for me. I had made a promise to God, my pastor, my family, and my closest friends that I would be united with Gwenda “until death did us part.” In my beliefs, if I divorced Gwenda, then I would be a complete fraud. I had told all others of the importance of commitment in marriage. I did not want to “let God down,” plus I thought it would be best for our kids to have us in the same household.
My Evangelical worldview put enormous pressure on me to stay married. I put enormous pressure on myself. To me, the only options were to remain married or kill myself. So, I chose to stay married — and became a “dead man walking.”
My Wife. Gwenda likewise knew our marriage was painful. And yet she, too, was committed to her Evangelical belief that divorce is not an option. Her sister confronted her and encouraged her to get a divorce, but Gwenda believed that such a “retreat” lacked integrity. Plus, she worried about the kids having a split family. Realistically, she knew her quality of living would decrease if she divorced.
So, she nobly suffered on. She developed good, supportive friends who understood her situation. She received professional counseling, which helped her self-esteem. I can only imagine the enormous, repeated pain with which she lived.
And yet, we repeatedly experienced moments of great happiness. She and I enjoyed our occasional 1-on-1 vacations. They were a paradise amid a dry desert.
Relief
Me. From out of nowhere, Gwenda incurred an incurable cancer. She struggled mightily to prolong her life. As for me, I remained literally by her side, 24–7. Every doctor’s visit, every moment, I was her trusted companion. I ached whenever I saw my wife suffering.
After 41 years of marriage, I held my wife’s hand as she passed. She was my best friend and my worst enemy. She courageously upheld her Evangelical perspective regarding both homosexuality and divorce. In many ways, she was my hero.
And it may sound unloving, but with her death I experienced a relief. Relief from the grueling process of watching her die; relief from the painful part of our marriage.
Our whole small town joined me in grieving the loss of this wonderful lady.
Should we have divorced earlier? Perhaps. We both would have been spared a lot of agony.
My Wife. Gwenda was absolutely shocked to learn of her terminal cancer. Life seemed so unfair to her — she was only 60 years old. She also viewed God as unfair. In her mind, she had “obeyed all of the rules” — while God “let her down.”
In her final days, she realized that I had devoted all of my life to her during her bout with cancer. She came to know how much I deeply loved her.
Her last eight months were physical and emotional torment. She had multiple organs removed from her body to stave off the full spread of her cancer. Even in her very final moments and seconds, she labored to breathe one more breath. Gwenda was one of the strongest people I have ever known.
When she died, she was relieved. Relieved of the pressure to always “get it right” in life. Relieved from the emotional pain of being married to a gay husband. Relieved of the physical pain of gasping for breath.
And Gwenda was relieved, knowing that “It is finished.”
Reward
Me. I had given my all to Gwenda. Not only was I driven to be the best husband possible, but I also truly loved her more than any other human. With her death, all of my suffering became “no more.”
In 2022, I married my husband, Reggie. We have very similar personality, values, and theology. We make a truly marvelous couple. He brings out the very best in me. Harsh arguments are a thing of the past. No more “walking on eggshells.” Just love. Each day, we praise God for bringing us together.
Reggie is indeed my reward — my gift from God.
My Wife. Gwenda’s laborious fight with cancer allowed her to experience the sentiments of the Apostle Paul: having fought the good fight, she pressed on toward the fullness of Jesus.
I absolutely believe Gwenda is now experiencing the joys of the Kingdom of Heaven.
And her reward is the unfiltered love of Jesus — face to face.
In our own ways, we both triumphed.
And in the end, the world is a better place because of Mike & Gwenda’s marriage.
Do Over
Today, I am an Exvangelical. I was deeply hurt by Evangelicalism, and my life has definitely progressed in a different direction.
People who know my story often ask me, “Mike, knowing what you now know, how would you have lived your life if you could do it over.” Here is my response.
I would know that homosexuality is permanent, and that God rejoices in gay people and gay marriages. Therefore, I would confidently date men to whom I am attracted rather than seek a mixed-orientation marriage. I would marry a gay man who would, in essence, be like Reggie. I would adopt children and hope to be a grandparent. Also, I would love that husband as much as I now love Reggie. Together, we would strive to love all people with Jesus’s kind of love.
And I would revel in the knowledge that there is nothing wrong with being gay and that God rejoices at every gay wedding.
Dr. Mike Rosebush (Ph.D., Counseling Psychology; he, him, his;) is the creator and editor of GAYoda, plus a writer for Backyard Church. A short synopsis of Dr. Rosebush’s life can be found at I Lived the Most Unusual Gay Christian Life Ever. He may be contacted at mikerosebush75@gmail.com.
