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 Which Way?
I come from a wealthy family full of the pompous, snobs that you'd read about in an Edith Wharton novel. Being gay in such a family is not an option. Doing anything, for that matter, without your family's permission is not an option.
So when I discovered that I am gay, it was only natural that I kept it to myself. I dated all of the girls that my parents would expect me to date, while secretly checking out the lads on the rugby team at my college.
When I graduated, it was pretty clear that I'd be marrying the daughter of a family that belonged to the same country club as my family. She was pretty, intelligent and well mannered, and as dry as you'd expect her to be.
When the time actually came that I proposed, I wasn't nervous at all. I did the whole "down on one knee" and gave her a lovely ring, and she accepted.
Two weeks later, I met Malcolm. Malcolm was openly gay and we got along famously. Our friendship was a secret from my family, though who never could have accepted Malcolm.
And one day, Malcolm asked me to move in with him in his little cottage out in the country. It was a very simple, very old home on three acres of beautiful land. How could I not accept? I packed my things, kissed my parents goodbye and since then we have, as they say, lived happily ever after.
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