Laugh of the Day #5

Here’s something light for the weekend to honor my friend Brenda. I hadn’t heard from her in a while and got a message from her that made me smile alluding to the video below.

The woman in this video is probably what Brenda will be like in forty years.

I’m not sure what the Anti-Boredom Campaign is but, I’m all for it.

Coming Out to Myself, Part Two

Looking back, nothing really stuck out about that day. I'd made plans weeks in advance to see Cole—my best friend—in concert. I'd decided to carpool with some friends to economize the gas and enjoy one another's company. As usual, work, school, and old times dominated the conversation. "Do you remember those Hostess cupcake wars we used to have in high school?", "Why did you and Brenda never get along?", "I remember the look on your face when you first saw the opening credits to Sweeney Todd," etc.

When we arrived for the concert, it amazed me as it always has how we were able to arrive on time, sit down, and shut up long enough to hear our friend perform. After more than six years of friendship, all of that had become routine. Cole was the musician and artist, I was the writer and Scholar, Jacqueline was the spiritual rock. After the performance, it was only natural for all of us to gather for a nice dinner.

That night at Village Inn, however, we were joined for the first time by Cole's other group of friends—his university friends with whom he studied and discussed music on a daily basis. There was the cellist, the soprano, the euphonium player, and the baritone—Grey. Upon sitting down next to Cole, I introduced myself to these new friends, taking note that the friends I'd come with were all at the other end of the table and that I was surrounded Grey and the other musicians. Moments later, I found myself enveloped in a conversation with Grey about music and art that was at times over my head. That said, I offered what I could to the conversation, bringing up the bits of literature and philosophy that seemed most applicable: Shakespeare's range and wordplay, Virginia Woolf's innovations in voice and style.

Suddenly, I realized something was off. Grey was flirting with me… and I liked it. Things like this weren't supposed to happen. But I felt whole for some reason—counter to everything I'd been taught in my life. In a split second I was left to make a decision: do I accept this as the answer to the problems I've been having or accept this feeling as an answer.

End Part Two.

Coming Out to Myself

"When did you know? When did you figure things out?"

As far as gay small talk goes, this is pretty much a cliché (I can't think of a first date I've been on where this didn't comeup), but one that we can all connect with even though our experiences vary as much as our occupations or our tastes in men. Every one of us had a moment in which we realized that we didn't quite fit into the archetypal world presented to most of us as kids:

Boy meets girl…boy goes out with girl… boy and girl get married in the temple and live happily ever after.

Along these lines, some GMBs know before they start dating, others figure it out as they interact with the opposite sex, and yet others figure it all out later in life. I like to think of this point in life as coming out to oneself. Of course, most of us have our inklings….

A couple of years ago, I had a very sincere discussion with my friend Brenda. For several months we spent most of our Fridays together watching movies or bowling on a purely platonic level. That night she asked me, "Why don't you date more? Guys like you are in high demand. You're an RM (returned missionary), intelligent, and handsome." I later found out that that was her way of trying to figure out if I was gay, but after thinking about it for a few minutes, the only thing that came to mind was: "I just haven't met a girl I'm interested in that much."

Well, I suppose if I were to overhear a conversation along these lines today, I doubt I'd be able hold my tongue, but I puzzled over that sense of non-attraction for over a year, eventually leading me to a precipice of sorts: "I'm not attracted to women and I'm not attracted to men, so I'm definitely not gay. I'm just asexual." Following a childhood in the church a full-time mission and the subsequent years, it was difficult to accept this possibility. That said, on April 15, 2008, I was pushed over this cliff.

(And although the metaphor of a cliff suggests danger and death, it led to the most enthralling and satisfying time in my life).

End Part One.