Personal Essay
Wrestling With Forbidden Attraction
I had spoken in depth with each of my siblings, but with him there had been an extremely strong connection born of similar experiences
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I have never been particularly fond of my birthday. It’s in the spring, which is great as it makes you think of new beginnings, but for me, it is also accompanied by conflicting emotions. Don’t get me wrong, I lapped it up as a child. However, once past my teen years, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to celebrate the occasion with my birth family.
That is something I didn’t get to find out even after finally meeting them, as the experience totally overwhelmed me. Particularly when I realised I was actually falling for one of my half-brothers. Yes, you read correctly, and please spend a little time reading my story rather than entering your glass house to throw stones. It is not my proudest moment, but on rare occasions during a life, attraction can seem inevitable. This was one of those times.
I was adopted in 1968 when I was six months old, so grew up without knowing any blood relatives — never looking into eyes which resembled my own. The first time I held my new born baby, I knew I had no choice. I needed to find our roots.
I learned that my birth mum, discovering she was pregnant and alone as a teenager in the late 60s, was forced to give me up. On the rebound, she married the first man to court her and had four children. A catholic family. Tragically, her husband was killed in a road accident.
At the time I discovered this sad tale, I was twenty-nine. My birth mum was forty-eight, and her children were adults aged between twenty and twenty-seven. What a discovery — unknown relations! I now had four half siblings— Chris, Angus, Jack and Jane.
Armed with a certain address for Angus, I crafted a letter explaining who I was. Of course, the thought of rejection scared me. Perhaps I was a dreadful secret.
The reply landed on my doorstep. As soon as I had some alone time, I ripped it open. The first line read –
“We have been waiting for you.”
Angus went on to explain how his mother had always spoken about my existence
For a moment, it felt like a fairy tale. I burst into tears before reading on. What a relief, the pent-up emotion disappeared as I saw a phone number had been included with an invitation to call any evening.
Having taken time to process the new information, I plucked up the courage and rang Angus. We hit it off immediately and chatted for about an hour.
I discovered the good and the bad.
My birth mum, of a delicate disposition, suffered mental health problems. Giving me up and losing her husband had taken their toll. She was, nevertheless, eager to meet. Over the next few days my new relations contacted me one by one.
My youngest half-brother, Jack, was a delight. He’d researched our heritage and had many interesting snippets for me.
Jane called, and we lamented on those times we missed as teenage sisters, putting on make-up together and wowing the local lads at the disco.
It was as if I had known them all my life — a genuine bond seemed to exist. Things could have gone dreadfully wrong, yet so far everything was just right.
A few days later, Christopher —the eldest sibling— called. He’d actually been named after me, Christina May.
Chris was more tentative than the others, cautious even. Although, after a short while, the barrier broke. He began to recite horrific incidents from his past. Sent to stay with his dad’s family as a child, he had been beaten black and blue for misbehaving. Bruises which survived for weeks. I confided in him regarding my own experience of abuse as a child: the isolation, how I loved my adopted Mum yet knew I was in the wrong nest. We ended the conversation vowing to speak the following evening. And we did. In fact, we spoke several times for hours, over the next month.
All I thought about was our chats. Irrationally, I felt responsible for his abuse. If I’d taken my place as his older sister, I could have looked after him and those atrocious things would never have happened.
My focus was becoming skewed.
Deciding the next step would be a family get-together, the most sensible option was for me to travel to the town where they all lived, some two hundred miles away.
Leaving my baby at home with her father, there was plenty for me to arrange. We all agreed I should stay in a hotel for a few nights, and see them all together this time, and then individually on another occasion.
My mind was awash with excitement and concern. What would I say? I didn’t blame my birth mother; the choice had been completely taken out of her hands. However, I was not after another parent. My [adoptive] Mum had looked after me all my life, and I cared for her deeply. I was more interested in my siblings, and I felt a little guilty about this.
The anticipation of the first meeting was daunting, to say the least.
Family, yet strangers.
My youngest brother arrived first with my birth mum, and the three of us had a bit of time before Jane and Angus appeared. Hugs, smiles all round and an uncanny familiarity. There had been no need to worry.
Now we all sat together waiting for Chris. The others explained he was often late. My heart began to pound. I had spoken in depth with each of my siblings, but with him there had been an extremely strong connection born of similar experiences.
Finally, he walked in. We embraced. Stepping back, I looked into his eyes. And I am certain we both felt it immediately — attraction.
I bumbled back to my chair, hoping nobody had noticed my blush. Jane arranged a cab, and we set off for lunch.
Afterwards, my birth mum left and the rest of us sat drinking and chatting, exhibiting similar mannerisms and talking about childhood. I felt very at home, although was rattled by the way my stomach lurched at every glance from Chris.
My stay passed very quickly, and I vowed to see them all soon and spend some individual time with each one. Meanwhile, I continued to speak with them on the phone, and once again my conversations with Chris were deep and heartfelt.
About 3 months later I visited again. I met my two younger brothers separately during the first day. The following lunchtime, I saw Jane in town before returning to my hotel — alone, as I had arranged to meet Chris for a drink in the bar that evening.
Getting ready, I paid particular attention to my clothes and make-up. I felt alive, nervous, with anticipation shooting through every vein. Gazing into the mirror, I saw too much cleavage on display and couldn’t deny I wanted him to want me.
Sipping a glass of wine to calm myself, I tried to push these bizarre thoughts from my mind. I needed to get a grip and think of him as my brother, not a long-lost suitor. However, when he walked in, all common sense vanished. His warm brown eyes smiling. It was strange; we looked similar, which I suspect was part of the allure.
We sat talking, I couldn’t remember another time I’d felt such a powerful attraction. Pulse thumping, perspiration glowing on my forehead and tingles each time we accidentally touched. The rest of the world seemed removed. We were there together, living the moment.
When the bar closed he called a cab. As we hugged goodbye, our bodies pressed hard against each other, eyes lingering.
We promised to talk soon.
Back in my room, I was elated. I knew the magnetism between us was wrong, yet it seemed Chris was so right for me.
Just as I was falling asleep, the phone rang. My heart leapt. I knew it was him. He said he’d had an amazing evening and was just checking I was okay, and then…
“I want to come back to the hotel?”
A voice in my head screamed YES, but I said nothing. After only a moment of silence which seemed like minutes, he continued:
“But we both know I’d better stay away.”
I lay awake most of the night. Why did I feel this way? It was wrong. Taboo.
That evening, I came so close to doing something I probably would have regretted. Something I would never have been able to share.
Something illegal!
Once home, I mulled over my visit. Even though a substantial amount is known about human sexual attraction, because of its complexity our understanding continues to evolve. Yet, I think it’s generally recognised wanting to be intimate with your brother is not an ideal situation. I thought, surely I must be a deviant pervert? Many would view me that way…
Then, as if sent from a higher power, a program appeared on the TV explaining GSA.
GSA stands for Genetic Sexual Attraction. The term is used when family members, who haven’t been nurtured together, form an attraction as adults. Apparently, in adoption cases, a high percentage experience this phenomenon.
Thank goodness. Vindicated. Almost a common occurrence in my situation. I wondered how many actually acted on it.
Knowing about GSA helped, although I still held Chris close for some time. We’d talked for hours on the phone before meeting, and the chemistry between us had blown me away.
I missed him.
After a few weeks, I anxiously tried to call. He was working and when he rang back, I was out. Remember, in those days, mobile phones were rare.
In fact, Chris and I never spoke again and two years later he moved to Australia, and as far as I know is still there today.
As to the others…
Occasionally I hear from my youngest brother, who isn’t very informative regarding Chris. Angus died a few years after we met. I was so glad to have known him. Jane and my birth mum remain fine, however I didn’t persist with contact.
Every part of the experience had overwhelmed me.
The past can shape you as a person, and as I pined for a life I’d never had with them, I began to lose sight of who I really was.
I had to move forward for my own sake.
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