I turned 45 years old yesterday. Everyone in my family and friends know I'm gay, I've had a boyfriend for 8 years, and I'm generally perceived as a serious, responsible, respectable, dignified, masculine, educated man. My boyfriend knows that I'm not always respectful, dignified, or masculine.

When I think of my father and what he has always wanted and imagined of me, I feel an uncontrollable desire to be the complete opposite. If my father wants and imagines me speaking to a group of people with dignity, I desire to be on the floor being humiliated by men. If my father wants and imagines me giving a speech to share my knowledge, I desire to be unable to speak because I have a dick in my mouth and someone saying "shut up, sissy" or any of those phrases that have been ingrained in my brain for decades. Phrases always uttered by sexually aroused men, exuding testosterone, feeling the need to ejaculate after feeling like macho men, superior, strong, after being served; phrases that fit into my psyche like puzzle pieces. In fact, depending on the strength and virility of the messages, my mind's reception is shaped, and the stronger and more dominant the man appears, the weaker my brain adapts to be to receive the information, to accept being humiliated and belittled for everything that my family and some friends know about me. In the presence of a man who knows he is superior, none of the valuable aspects of myself stand out; instead, there is a desire to serve, to surrender, to focus my mind and body on the pleasure of the other.

There was a time when interacting with gay men, I always sought and demanded respect, consideration, and friendly treatment, insisting that my dignity be recognized. I would often meet men through social media and go on normal dates, sometimes ending with sex but always leaving a lingering dissatisfaction, never feeling fully satisfied intellectually and sexually, even if the conversations were interesting and the sex pleasurable. I always felt like something was missing, like something was lacking.

One day, I was supposed to meet a man at a bar downtown but he never showed up, so I waited for half an hour. As I was leaving the bar, I saw a small pamphlet, among others, all kept in a wooden box with a sign that read, "Free. Take 1." So, I picked one up and put it in my pants pocket. I thought about going home after the failed date, but instead, I bought a black coffee from the street and sat on a bench. When I sat down, the pamphlet crumpled in my pocket, so I took it out and started flipping through it. It was advertising for different places for homosexuals, many clearly focused on sexual encounters. I was aware of the existence of these places, saunas, internet cabins with glory holes, porn theaters, shared porn video rooms, but I had never been interested in exploring them; I always thought that to have a sexual encounter, you must first feel a certain empathy towards the person, and that can ...