An End to the Loneliness An End to the Loneliness

By David Davis

Can a man really love another man? I entered the gay bar,determined to find out.

My childhood home was located within one block of the base ofStone Mountain near Atlanta. I loved playing with Eddie and Freddie,two brothers who lived in a two-story house across Mountain Street.

One afternoon we created a game of being naked together. In thecoming months, we played it whenever we could. I always felt dirtyafter our “game,” especially when it became sexual. But I neverunderstood why.

Playing at the neighbor’s was a welcome relief from the stress athome. Daddy’s drinking led to ugly fights between him and Mom. Afterhe had a brain operation, his moods seemed even worse. He would bewatching TV and begin crying uncontrollably or suddenly rage withanger. When the opportunity came for me to move to Panama to livewith my older sister, Marilyn, and her family, I decided to take it.I was only 10.

Unfortunately, my brother-in-law was also a heavy drinker. “He’sdifferent than Daddy when he drinks,” my sister whispered to me onenight. But their fights were just a sad replay of my parents’arguments. I was uncomfortable in their home, and often felt a knotin my stomach that never quite went away.

Eventually Marilyn’s husband got transferred back to the UnitedStates, and I went home to live with Mom (Dad had been committed to apsychiatric hospital). I had fallen behind in school, and feltestranged from my former peer group. TV became my best friend,filling me with fantasies of car wrecks, house fires, and otherdisasters. In my daydreams, I was always rescued by a young, strong,caring man who saved me just in time.

High school gave me a new beginning. Mom had remarried during thesummer, and we moved to a new county. By ninth grade, I had begun tomake a circle of friends that included the class elite. I became goodfriends with a student named Tom, and often he invited me to hishouse to spend Friday or Saturday nights.

One night we were sharing his double bed; after he’d fallenasleep, I studied his sleeping form in the faint light. His muscleswere much more developed than mine. His smell, masculine and warm,beckoned me closer. I felt myself getting sexually aroused. Youstupid queer! I thought in disgust. Silent tears wet my pillow. I hadburned with lust toward my best friend, and I mourned the loss ofpurity in our friendship. Maybe this will all pass when I have sexwith a girl, I thought.

By the time I graduated from high school, I was buying gayporno-graphy. Flip-ping through those pages put my whole world inpers-pective. I was a queer.

“Dear Jesus, please change me,” I often prayed, but God did notseem to hear my prayers. I remembered the night I had given my lifeto Christ at camp. We had sat in small circles of teens sharingcommunion. I had wept, feeling so accepted by God. But, in the lightof my struggles, did that experience really mean anything after all?

During the next two years, I attended a small Methodist liberalarts college. But my vision of entering the ministry had died, andwhen I saw a poster advertising jobs in Wyoming, I quit school andheaded for the Rockies.

After three months of scrambling eggs at 5:30 a.m. at YellowstoneNational Park concessions, I was ready to move on. I relocated to SanFrancisco where I shared an apartment with my other sister, Monica.I’ll settle this queer stuff here once and for all, I promisedmyself.

Soon I was visiting gay bars, and felt like I had foundmyself-finally! I started going home with other men for sex, but evenin their arms, I often felt alone and empty.

Then Victoria, a college friend who was also gay, invited me toshare her one-room apartment in New York City. Why not? I thought,and headed east.

I got a job waiting tables at the restaurant where Victoriaworked, and soon settled into the routine of work, sleep, andindulging in an active social life with other gay men. Drinking andgetting stoned added variety to the endless days, and dulled theinner void.

I came to despise the bars. The men were cold, lifeless. My sexlife dwindled, then one man gave me hepatitis. After six months, Idecided I hated New York.

I returned to college to finish my degree, and found some friendswho enjoyed the gay bars in Atlanta. But unanswered questionscontinued to swirl through my mind: Could a man really love anotherman? I hadn’t found it in San Francisco or New York. Sex? Sure, butnot love. And nobody seemed to want a permanent relationship.

What did I want, anyhow? To belong to some man, any man. I’d cookfor him, clean his house, iron his shirts, and warm his bed-if hewould just love me.

During the next few years, I pursued my elusive dreams inWashington, D.C., Atlanta and San Francisco. Eventually I ended up ina rural farming community 20 miles from Athens, Georgia. My femaleroommate had come out of the closet and taken a lesbian lover. Ourhousehold stirred constant scandal in the community.

Pastors from miles around visited to invite us to church. I tookone up on the offer and found myself getting un-wanted attention fromtwo of the local businessmen. Their sexual interest in me “proved”that the whole world was corrupt. I was just more honest than mostpeople.

But my emotions were a wad of hurt and confusion. I found myselfaddicted to smoking pot. I also read the Bible and prayed that Godwould help me break my substance abuse.

My arrival in Boone, North Carolina, in June 1979 marked a newbeginning. I had heard of this area’s natural beauty and decided tocheck it out for myself. I arrived with $65 in my pocket.

I found an empty room in a student boarding house in theuniversity district. The owner, a gray-haired lady named Mrs. Hardin,promptly invited me to church. I thanked her while thinking tomyself, I’m a flaming queen. I doubt anybody in Sunday school wouldbe comfortable if I swished into the young adults class. I beganhoping for a job that required me to work Sundays.

I found employment at a local restaurant and decided to acceptMrs. Hardin’s invitation after all. But after sev-eral weeks, I wasdisillusioned with church. Too often I caught the hungry look ofsomebody “in the closet” who was checking me out.

Then I went with a friend to a Christian concert at theuniversity. The songs filled my heart with hope. At the end, one ofthe musicians said God had given him a mes-sage for someone in theaudience.

“This person is a young man who has been seeking to know moreabout God,” the man said. “This young man has drugs on him tonight.”The speaker invited the individual to accept God’s call torepentance. Suddenly light and heat seemed to ignite inside as Iheard the silent words, “You will never know Me until you are clean.”

The man on stage warmly invited the person to come forward, but Icould not move. I was awed, but returned silently to my apartment toponder what had occurred. Once alone, I flushed my small stash ofmarijuana down the toilet with the thought, OK, God. I accept. I wantto be clean. I want to know You. Now what?

I began attending another local church. Glancing around during thesinging, I was overwhelmed by the joy reflected in the faces aroundme. Within one week, I was enjoying dinner at the homes of friendlychurch families, and even found myself confessing my past involvementin homosexuality. I felt drawn into the warmth of their acceptance,and knew I’d found my spiritual “home.”

One Sunday morning, I sat in church, contemplating my two months’abstinence from cruising but plagued with doubts. Would I eventuallyreject this church and its people for sex with another man? Then thewords of the sermon penetrated my confusion. The pastor wasencour-aging us to trust the Bible as God’s blueprint for our lives.

If I am going to follow Christ, I cannot practice homo-sexuality.The thought was simple, yet profound. Celibacy wasn’t too high aprice for having Jesus in my life. Freedom from the compulsions thathad dominated my soul for years seemed possible. Everything inside melatched on to the truth that Jesus had died for people like me. Whenthe pastor asked if anyone wanted to be baptized in water, my handshot straight into the air.

Soon I had quit my restaurant job and was working on atree-planting crew with other Christians. The work was hard, but thefellowship with other men and the beauty of the mountains gave me agreat joy. I spent a lot of the travel time to and from workmemorizing Scripture.

My ex-lover Dan crept back into my thoughts. But I knew I couldn’tgo back. And I kept busy with church activities during the week tothwart feelings of loneliness

The months passed, and I wondered what more God had for me. Churchlife was fulfilling, but I sensed a restlessness inside. Then a youngwoman named Freida joined our church and we became acquainted One dayI had the thought, You’re going to marry Freida. I didn’t take it tooseriously, not sure where it had come from.

Homosexual temptation was still a reality. But I had learned tofill my mind with God’s scriptures and promptly ask Him for a way ofescape. By now I had gone six months without masturbation, and thefrequency of homosexual thoughts had dwindled significantly.

Later Freida and I traveled with a group from church to aChristian education conference. During the ride, we got to know oneanother better and I sensed that God had something special for us.Two weeks later, I asked her for a date, adding, “My intention is tosee if we are compatible for marriage.”

“I’d like that,” she replied, and my heart warmed.

“Good,” I responded. “Uh … let’s pray and ask God to direct ourrelationship!” By our second date, we knew our friendship was headedtoward a permanent commitment.

We were married 13 years ago. God has blessed us with fivechildren. We have learned a deep and abiding trust in each other’slove. Our physical relationship was not a problem from the beginning,but we were married ten years before I could begin to express mydeepest emotions to my wife.

Recovery for me is no longer centered on resisting homosexualacts. I seek a personality formed in the image of Jesus Christ. Apersonality free to love men without fear or pain. A personalitywhich is controlled only by the fruits of the Holy Spirit. I am a newcreature equipped to fight the flesh and release the spirit. And mylong search for acceptance is fulfilled in the love of my wife,family, and brothers and sisters in Christ.

David Davis is involved in Breaking Free, an ex-gay ministryin Boone, N.C. Copyright © 1994 by David Davis. Distributed byLove In Action, PO Box 753307, Memphis, TN 38175-3307