This question so vexed me that I ended up writing a novel about it, the name of which I'll withhold for now (it's unpublished, but I'm working on that). One of its characters is a nineteen-year-old virgin who worries that he's gay because he can't get it up with a woman, so he ends up raping one to "prove" himself. He has an incredibly messed up sense of sexuality shaped by the same forces that shaped me. So I understand him. I just managed to escape from those forces, while this poor schlub of a character I created didn't.

I hope my sons never get caught in this kind of thinking/feeling/being. That's one reason to stay alive and do my part to keep my marriage healthy, isn't it?