Most of my fellow Anglicans (Episcopalians here in the US) would likely bristle at the idea that we are religious "followers" who are supposed to "follow our leaders." The relationship between clergy and laity is far more complex than that. The church's founding principles include the importance of reason (meaning conclusions drawn from individual conscience) as one of three equal influences in Christian life (the other two being scripture and tradition).

But it is precisely because the church is fundamentally non-doctrinal and committed to this type of theological diversity that we find ourselves in a perpetual balancing act between maintaining the unity of the Worldwide Anglican Communion on the one hand and living up to our commitment to diversity of conscience within our membership. It's like trying to keep a family eating at the dinner table together when Mom's a democrat, Dad's a republican, and all the kids are opinionated teenagers. These debates are part of the family, so to speak, and they are a good problem to have. Rather than splinter into a million different forms of the same church, we hammer out these compromises over and over again for the sake of being a community. That's an immensely humbling experience and a significant spiritual principle.

To give an example, my own church is generally liberal and affirming of gays and lesbians. We are headed by a priest who is himself a gay man. Down the road a bit is our sister congregation, which is comprised mostly of theological conservatives and whose priest is opposed to ordination of gays and lesbians. We worship in separate churches, have separate leaders, but we work together on many things and recognize one another as part of the same communion.

Of course, that's not to say that we haven't come down on the wrong side of tolerance vs. doing the right thing (the behavior of ECUSA during the civil war would be one instance where I think we erred way too far on the side of not judging the parishes that refused to denounce slavery). And our disagreements can get pretty nasty at times (hence the teenager metaphor), with this or that faction blithely declaring their doctrinal superiority to another and going off and sulking in their bedrooms when they don't feel they are getting their way. In this sense, I'm sorry to say, what I think the church is doing is saying "okay okay, go sulk in your bedroom for as long as you need."

Which is all to say that I very much doubt that this decision has anything whatsoever to do with wanting to "keep more members" in the strictly pragmatic sense of keeping butts in pews. It has more to do with the church's historical emphasis on compromise and community over judgment and fragmentation.

Also, I should point out for the sake of context that in the culturally Western branches of the Anglican Communion we've been ordaining women for about thirty years (give or take a few depending on what country you're in).

My husband and I are both a) Christians, b) bisexual, and c) faithfully monogamous. Fortunately, we a part of a very queer-positive community and an affirming church, so neither of us see it as a problem. Instead, for us, it's a source of occasional enjoyment (we can drool over the same movie stars, if we are in such a mood) and solidarity. For the most part, though, it's just not an issue. Our feelings towards members of the same sex are no different than our feelings towards every member of the opposite sex with whom we have also chosen to forego sexual relationships for the sake of marital fidelity.

It's possible that you are somehow in need of experimenting with men in order to feel sure of your life choices. But it doesn't sound that way from your letter. What it sounds like is that it's the bias of the culture in which you find yourself (including, quite possibly, your faith community) that is telling you, directly or indirectly, that something must be wrong. I would suggest finding for yourself and your wife (who sounds like she needs to work a little on her own feelings about this issue) a queer-positive atmosphere (and be selective -- there are some queer communities that aren't terrifically welcoming to bisexuals) in which to explore your sense of self and your understanding of God's love for you as the whole person you are, including your sexuality. You might find your worries about your marriage aren't such a big deal when viewed from that different context.