I’ll Never Forget the Day My Homosexual Orientation Turned “On”
Puberty, Open Showers, & Male Nudity
Puberty changes everything. And for me, as a gay Christian, puberty was quite the turn-on of my sexual attraction. The following is a true story of my very sheltered background during a time generations ago. Paradoxically, I did not learn about my homosexuality through a religion or society — instead, life was my teacher.
September 1965. Age 12. Hawaii. Boys’ Locker Room:
Gosh, this first day of public junior high school (7th Grade) sure is different! There are students from my own elementary (at my Dad’s Air Force base), plus four other elementary schools funneled together. I had a difficult time finding my classrooms — they are scattered all over the campus! New teachers. Lots of instructions and homework! And so many students whom I have never seen before. Lots of different ethnicities. My elementary school was virtually all-white. Here, there are lots of Hawaiians, plus Blacks and Asians. This junior high is so different!
Inside my soul, an attraction was lit — a strong, dominant, enduring, same-sex attraction.
Okay, I am now starting my first-ever male-only Physical Education (PE) class. Our teacher tells us to put our street clothes in our assigned locker and then put on our PE gear. I am handed a small piece of paper with my locker combination (to which I have to put that paper in my shoe, not to lose). We do a bunch of exercises and we have now completed a fitness test. I think I did really well.
Our male PE teacher seems gruff. I would not want to upset him! He now tells us all that we must go back to our gym lockers, put away all of our PE attire, and take a shower. He says to find an empty showerhead (located on all of the vertical metal poles), and soap will be in a dispenser on the pole. He gets real serious and says this is our first lesson in “hygiene” — and we need to soap and wash all over, so we are not smelly.
Gulp. I begin to strip off all of my gym clothes slowly. I have never taken my clothes off in front of boys before. I am nervous. I look down, hoping no one is watching me. I close my locker, ensuring it is locked. Let’s see: my combination is 29–7–42. I repeat that several times not to forget.
I proceed, following streams of nude 7th Graders walking toward a big, open shower area. The sound of shower water raining down is loud. There are dozens of shower poles spaced everywhere, each having four showerheads. Many of the poles are now fully occupied by four other students. I find a shower pole that has no one on my left or right (at least, for the time being). I let the water splash onto my head. I find the soap dispenser. I pump it several times, and eventually, liquid soap emits. I begin applying the soap to my previously sweaty body as soap-foam lathers me. I turn around, as the showerhead massages my backside. It feels warm and relaxing.
I decide to look up into the sea of male nudity in all directions.
Oh my God. I have never seen my peer males nude before. Is is so captivating! Wow!!
Some men have strong muscles. Some are tall and lanky; others, stocky and rock solid. I find myself staring at different boy’s full frontal appearance. I am amazed at all of the pubic hair! And such a variety: some boys have a full bush of thick, dark hair. Some lighter-colored (even blonde). Most boys are like me — a line of hair of various width. Some are hairless (and I feel sad for them; they exude embarrassment).
I now begin looking at boys’ genitals. I notice penises of all sorts of different shapes and sizes. That strikes me as unusual — and very fascinating. I now find myself on a quest: I need to check-out every boy’s full-frontal appearance. It feels as though I am discovering a “treasure chest” filled with lots of different jewels! I notice the Hawaiian boys (as a race) have a darker skin tone, full bush of pubic hair, larger penises — as though they were older than us white boys (but, in reality, they are the same age as the rest of us). The Hawaiians’ more fully developed bodies enrapture me! Spellbound!! I am now staring at one Hawaiian boy in particular as I admire every inch of his body.
“What are you staring at?”
It is the voice of the Hawaiian boy I’d been ogling. He seems mad at me. I immediately move my eyes down to my own feet. And in this very moment, something extremely potent — irreversible — is branded into my psyche. I must never be caught looking at another man’s genitals.
Oh, but I want to keep looking. There are still more boys to check out. I can’t stop now. There is too much of a rush inside me — a feeling of “I must do this, regardless of the consequences.” I simply cannot stop myself from going further. So, I learn to take quick peeks, pretending to look elsewhere.
But make no mistake: each boy’s unique genitals and body rivet me.
Transition: Later that day. Back at my home. In my bathroom. With the door locked:
Oh God, I can’t stop thinking about all of the male bodies I saw today. Dozens of images flash through my memory — some producing more arousal in me than others. And it was not just the penises and pubic hair; it was also the muscles, the handsome faces, the overall body forms, the skin colors. My mind automatically keeps returning to the young man whose body was most appealing to me. I have memorized everything about him.
Suddenly, I notice myself becoming very aroused, erect. It is electric! My body is becoming so hot, empowering. My heart is racing. I feel so full of energy, and I do not know what to do with this powerful, inner force. Instinctively, I begin rubbing my private self. Oh, this is so soothing! And I have never done this before. I continue rubbing myself — becoming more aroused and filled. Oh God, what is happening to me? I should stop, but no — I feel compelled to keep going.
Automatically, an image enters my mind. An image that I have never previously had in my life. It is an image of the man to whom I am most attracted. He is naked. And I imagine myself taking his private part into me. This idea of homoerotic contact with another male is a completely foreign concept to me. No one has ever told me about this possibility before.
What is happening to me?
The homoerotic desire arose spontaneously, apart from my volition. It seemed innate. A latent desire giving birth for the very first time.
The image — and my desire to consume that man — is overpowering and instinctive. Oh, I want to do that so much!
I explode. What is this discharge? I have never done this before. Oh gosh, this is so exciting! So fun!
Whew! I noticed I have been sweating. My heart had been pounding, but now I feel expended. Relaxed.
And I cannot wait to do this again!
Genesis of a Homosexual Orientation
Unlike what I later would read about gays, I did not “discover I was different at age eight.” Growing up as a boy, I felt normal. I was stereotypically masculine. I liked rough-and-tumble physical contact, excelled in sports, and played exclusively with boys.
And unlike the conversion therapy causation model, I had a good relationship with my Dad. I admired him immensely. I had an older brother who was my role model — and he was Mr. All-Star in everything he touched.
Thus, if one wants to give credibility to the conversion therapy belief, I should have never developed into a gay teen.
But on that day of infamy in September 1965, as I leered at every nude male body, I became turned on to my homosexual orientation. Inside my soul, an attraction was lit — a strong, dominant, enduring, same-sex attraction.
I did not set out to make this happen. And I have no idea why my sexual orientation revealed itself to me as gay rather than as straight. I can confidently presume that the overwhelming number of boys in the shower on that day did not experience the same attraction, arousal, and homosexual orientation as I did. And if they did experience some form of curiosity, it was not as endemic and pervasive as mine.
Nope. My reaction was the verification of my sexual orientation. I experienced an attraction, a romantic and erotic desire toward only men. The only future exception to that rule was my wife. And for those of you who want to read more about that relationship, I’ve already written about it in more depth.
Self-Analysis
Later in life (age 35), I would earn a Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology. I would also become a Licensed Professional Counselor. I would read reams of scientific studies about homosexuality. I would receive conversion therapy — and subsequently, experience suicidology when absolutely nothing “changed” in my orientation. I would go on to become one of America’s first phone coaches for helping gay Christians. And I would become (arguably) the evangelical community’s “go-to” counselor for homosexual Christians.
So, counselor, what did you discover about yourself?
I discovered that my Dad cannot be blamed as the cause of my homosexual “disorder.” After 70+ years of science trying to discover what causes a minority of men to develop enduring same-sex attraction, we still have no solid answer. I no longer seek to discover “the reason” — as that presumes something must have “gone wrong” for me to have developed homosexuality. Such was not my case. Instead, I found that my arousal to male nakedness (and the subsequent desire for homoromantic and homoerotic activity) was innate, instinctive, primordial, and everlasting.
And on that first day in an open shower, I felt neither guilt nor shame. I did nothing wrong by looking at something I found fascinating. I did not conceive of myself as a bad person. In 1965, I had no previous religious training whatsoever on the subject of homosexuality. To me, what occurred in that open shower was simply fun! It was as though I had entered for the first time into Fantasyland in Disney World (“the happiest place on earth”). My daily masturbations brought me no guilt. I never once confessed them to my priest because I had not yet learned homosexuality or masturbation was a “sin.”
It was only later in life — after becoming an evangelical and marrying my wife — that I learned to be ashamed and guilt-ridden over my gayness.
But back in 1965, on my first experience in an open shower, I learned a “survival skill.” I determined I must never again let anyone catch me looking at another man’s genitals. And I succeeded in applying this “don’t get caught” form of voyeurism and espionage. Yep, I was never discovered as the “spy in the foreign camp.”
Finally, I learned that being gay is, in many ways, just like being straight. Suppose straight men were placed into an open shower with attractive nude women. In that case, I am certain they would have experienced the same phenomena: secretly leering, becoming exceedingly aroused, and culminating in masturbation.
Attraction, romantic and erotic desire, and a longing to mate with one special person are all various forms of Jesus’ human blueprint.
Jesus is not ashamed of me as a gay man. He thinks I am wonderful — exactly as I am. I have done nothing wrong when I live out my sexual orientation. And I am certain, Jesus and I are covenanted — and nothing can separate that.
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Dr. Mike Rosebush is the founder and author of GAYoda. He has a Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology, is a retired Licensed Professional Counselor, with 45+ years of mentoring thousands of gay Christian men. Read a short synopsis of his story here.
Read Dr. Rosebush’s complete set of articles here.
Dr. Rosebush provides friendship support to gay Christian men across the U.S. and can be contacted via Facebook or mikerosebush75@gmail.com.
