My biggest fear is not that my wife would think badly of me. It is that she would feel I had been lying to her for twenty-two years. I have not lied exactly — I just have not told the truth. There is a box at the back of the wardrobe she has never opened, and I have spent two decades hoping she never does. Sometimes I think the weight of the secret is worse than the secret itself would be.
These are letters sent anonymously to Stevie. Each one is published with the writer's permission, lightly edited to remove anything identifying, and signed only as the writer chose. No replies. No accounts. Just their words.
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I just wanted to say thank you. Not for anything specific — just for existing. I spent years thinking I was the only one. The only married man who sometimes puts on a dress alone in the house and feels, for about an hour, completely at peace. Finding out there are hundreds of thousands of us was one of the most quietly profound moments of my life. I am 51 and I cried, because I finally felt normal.
I am not sure if I am bisexual or if I just think I might be. I have been with women all my life and have a girlfriend I love. But I keep having thoughts and do not know what to do with them. Every article I read either says I am definitely gay and in denial, or tells me sexuality is a spectrum and I should just be free — and I find that unhelpful too. I just want someone to tell me it is possible to be somewhere in the middle, and not have it mean everything has to change.
I have been doing this for over thirty years. I am 58. My wife does not know. I have come close to telling her three times and pulled back every time — not because I think she would leave, but because once it is said, it cannot be unsaid, and I am not sure I am ready for my life to change. I found this and wanted to say it out loud somewhere, even if only a machine reads it. Thirty years of carrying something quietly is a long time.