Gay man falling in love with a woman

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels. We were best friends for years, attending many Pride parades and taking weekend hiking trips. But last year, after a very drunken night, we slept together—and we still are today. He maintains that he still is, and always has been, a gay man.

I know it doesn't sound like a problem: "You're a man and you're obsessed with women? Have you considered running for president?! Of course, according to public perception of a gay man's official responsibilities, loving women is just my bedazzled cross to bear, the GBFF phenomenon being well documented, if only in its most base terms: Let's go shopping! You are so skinny right now, like, I'm nervous for you!

Sometimes there's no snappy way of putting it, no label that really describes how your head and your heart work. I had been an openly gay man for six years when I fell in love with a woman I'd known since I was Growing up on the Isle of Wight, we bonded over adolescent heartbreak, which happened to me more than once as I got to know the boys in our year. She was straight, but seemed to understand more than anyone about unrequited love.

This story starts on a rainy night in February, when my housemate Esther and I had been invited on an impromptu night out in east London. The two friends we went with indulged in a few too many pre-cab vodka squashes, and promptly got thrown out of a club by the bouncer. They stumbled off into the night together, leaving Esther and I alone and a little deflated at a night cut short. We headed home, drank months-old boxed white wine, knocked most of the furniture over, ate kebabs and eventually crashed on the sofa to watch something dreadful on TV.