“We Need to Talk”, Part 4

Coming out to Emily made life seem whole for a while. There was one group of people I could go to at any time who I could talk to this part of my life about. I didn't need to worry what they thought or who they would tell. We had a special bond. One that still holds strong to this day even if we don't see each other as regularly as we used to.

That sense of trust and freedom was challenged as we awaited the return of Jacqueline. She was part of the original gang from high school. The last of us to go on a mission and the last to come back. This was on everyone's mind—Matilde, Cole, Emily and I were constantly thinking about Jacqueline's reaction to the news that both I and Cole had to share with her if she was going to be as integral a part of our lives as before. "How are we going to bring it up?" "How long should we wait?" Etc.

Inevitably, each of these conversations ended with "She's not going to take this well." If Jacqueline were to hold to a stereotype in LDS culture, it would be the faithful, spiritually sensitive girl. Of course, Jacqueline has always been capable of making jokes, having fun, and forgiving faults; however, our concern was amplified by the fact that all of these spiritual sensitivities would be heightened by serving a mission. There was also one other huge concern hanging over our heads.

Unfortunately for Cole, he had a lot more at stake in this episode of "As the Closet Door Opens" thanks to history. It all started in high school. As a result of mutual interests and common senses of humor along with a great deal of time spent together, Jacqueline had developed a crush on Cole. Let's face it—this is not uncommon. If a boy dresses well, has good taste in music and theatre, etc., the girls are going to appreciate that. It's only natural—even if he is gay. In high school, Cole didn't try to make things work. Following his mission (and before Jacqueline's), however, the cultural pressure to make things finally trumped. They went on a few dates and things ended awkwardly. They still considered each other friends, but a sense of letdown pervaded because a relationship that never could have worked in fact did not.

Once Jacqueline returned, a certain distance remained between them. I ended up spending a lot of time with her and realized that she had come back way more normal than any of us had anticipated. I'd returned from my mission in the aftermath of things not working out with Cole and ended up spending a lot of time with her—going bowling with Brenda, watching movies, playing board games with her parents. It was pretty much the same thing when she got back. I realized that I need to key her in a little more on the goings on in my life before she developed feelings for me beyond friendship.

I told her everything about Mark—that I had fallen in love, that I felt special for once in my life and that we'd broken up before he went on his mission and left me not wanting to pursue a relationship for some time. I did leave out one detail, though. I left out the fact that he was a he by referring to him only as "the missionary" and avoiding all gender-based pronouns. It was all I was prepared for at the time. It did keep her from thinking we were anything more than friends.

Everything was clarified a few months after coming home from her mission. One night, I got a text "Jacqueline knows about me now. I thought you should know we had a talk. ~Cole"

Not surprisingly, the very next morning, I got a call at work. Knowing that she was probably in a mild form of shock, I answered. "Hey. What do you have planned for lunch today? You want to get something at the food court? We need to talk."

A couple of hours later, I met her on campus at the food court between my classes. She looked flustered to say the least. Her eyes were a little red either from crying or a lack of sleep and the conversation started out unusually awkward. She was searching out the right words to talk about something I obviously knew about, but was spiritually and emotionally sensitive for her.

"I think I know what you want to talk about. Cole texted me last night."

The shock became more apparent. Even though I'd broken the ice for her, she still had no idea what to say. Her expression just seemed to scream "Why?!"

As the scary conversation started, she voiced her concerns. "I just don't think that he's happy. He went through that bad engagement and I'm not sure he ever healed from that."

Everything seemed to have a little deeper meaning that went unstated. "I'm not sure he ever will heal now that he thinks he's gay" seemed to be what she meant in the moment.

"I worried so much about him while I was gone," she said as her empathy turned to self-incrimination. There is no way to know for sure, but she seemed like she wished in that moment that there was something she could have done to make things work when they had gone out. The truth of the matter is neither of them could have. No one was to blame for things not turning out the way any of us had hoped or wanted or been taught they would in Sunday school.

I reassured that Cole was doing much better than before. "He's been through a lot in life and he's healing for the first time in a long while. I've seen him at his worse and he is doing so much better."

This reassurance comforted her to a small degree. "I'm so glad we talked," Jacqueline said with teary eyes. "It's hard to think of Cole as gay." Then, immediately, a question popped out of her mouth that I wasn't expecting. You aren't gay too, are you?!"

It was so loud that the world seemed to stop for a moment while everyone on the food court started to listen to our conversation it seemed. Considering the shock she'd been through last night, the only thing I could come up with at the time was a whispered, reactionary "That's not important." And, after an initial shocked pause, I delivered an assertive yet reserved "Yes. Yes I am, Jacqueline."

The look on her face wasn't nearly as shocked as I had expected. There was clearly a sense of "What man in my life isn't gay?!" pseudo-resentment on her face, but she remained the same friend.

"I'm so happy you told me."

"Jacqueline, you must have noticed a difference from when you left. Right?"

"Yes."

I told her about Grey and figuring things out months ago and said directly and clearly, "I'm happier than I've ever been. Everything is going right. I understand myself and I found the confidence I'd always lacked in life. I can look people in the eye because I am happy about who I am, what I do, and what I've accomplished in my life."

"It's true and I'm happy for you," she said as genuinely as ever. We hugged and said goodbye, but clearly our little talk didn't leave her with much comfort.

Like our instincts had told us, not every coming out experience could go well. Jacqueline had a mini-breakdown. A bad week at work, tests, and some family drama that all hit at once along with our little coming out talks. It took a little help from our other girl friends, but she worked through things in her own time.

It's hard to see someone so affected by a little life detail that we really have no control over. If we're attracted to the same sex and tell someone, their life really shouldn't come crashing down. It's a matter of honesty, trust, and love. In the end, I do feel being honest brought us all a bit closer despite the initial and subsequent drama of coming out.

End, Part 4.

“We Need to Talk”, Part 3

Emily presented me with a real problem. One of my best friends since high school, I knew that any form of secrecy would unnecessarily keep her from being a part of my life. She, along with Cole and Matilde, formed one of the most constant and satisfying aspects of my life.

Essentially, I had to tell her or cut her out of my life to a certain extent, which was clearly not a viable option. At this time I had to consider a possibility that terrified me. Would she give me a speech about how I was going to hell or how she'd support me, but not my decisions? Or even worse—abandon me completely? Emily was the first person I told who has an unwavering testimony in the Church. It was the first step towards telling everyone in my life active and faithful in the church (including my family) that what I'd been taught my whole life didn't make as much sense as it always had in my life.

Cole knew exactly what I was going through when the subject came up in a conversation. He wasn't sure what kind of a reaction to anticipate either: "Our dear Emily (as he referred to her and her feelings about tough subjects like this one) is a tender soul."

Rather than directly confronting her about the subject, Cole conceived a plan of his own and called me shortly after implementing it.

"We were on our way home and I brought it up."

"So, how did it go?" I asked.

"Pretty well. I started laughing to myself and told her that I'd had a really funny dream last night. I told her I'd had a dream that you and Grey were dating. Of course, she started giggling."

The truth of the matter was that Grey and I were dating, and Cole's crafty little plan (transparent as it might seem looking back) was alternative. We were able to test the water before diving from the high dive.

Cole continued, "I asked her what she would think if that really happened and she said 'I don't know. He'd still be the same person he's always been, so why would I treat him any differently?' "

The next night, we went out for ice cream. Making sure that the three of us ended up alone at the end of the night, we waited the others out and decided to sit in Cole's car listening to music for a bit. The conversation slowed and I started.

"Emily, I've got something to tell you." I paused and took a necessary breath showing my caution and concern. "What if I told you that I was dating Grey and that I really like him?"

She looked over at Cole realizing that he wasn't joking (…or talking about himself as she later admitted to considering a possibility). Continuing in the hypothetical, she declared, "That wouldn't change anything. You're still you."

To that statement, I probably shed a few tears. If any of you ever wonder what you would do if a son, brother, or friend were to come out to you, I assure you that there are no more comforting words that "You're still you." It made my night and reassured me that in the big picture, friendship conquers little differences in views over religion and sexuality. I am honored to this day to have her as a friend and to be able to share such an important part of my life with her.

End, Part 3

“We Need to Talk”, Part 2

As is the case with most things, coming out to girls became easier over time. I took precautions not to let them to become too interested by offering hints and saying that I wasn't interested in a relationship at that point in my life (of course omitting that little piece "with a woman").

After telling Cole, he helped plan my coming out episodes—testing the waters, assessing possible reactions, etc.

Matilde never really intimidated me as far as coming out. Inactive in the Church, she didn't really hold the same expectations for me that everyone else did. That made things relatively easy. The environment was more controlled in that one little variable didn't make up part of the equation. Of course, the experiment could fail, but I knew that there was no better time for me or for her.

We were just leaving a party at Cole's and I was about to drive her home. Getting in the car, I didn't hesitate nearly as much.

"I've got something, I need to tell you, Matilde."

"Okay. What is it?"

"You know how we all joked about moving in together and living in New York with a gay roommate?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well, how would you feel if I were the gay roommate?"

Simple, quick, and to the point.

"You mean?"

"Yeah. And I'm pretty sure."

All I got for a bit after that were some pensive Hmmms. Then, finally, she said, "I really wasn't expecting this. I mean we all thought Cole would be the one."

I laughed and explained that the guy she'd met recently, Grey, was my current love interest.

Her response (one I've heard multiple times) amused me to no end:

"Dammit! What a perfect waste of two gorgeous men."

End, Part 2.

“We need to talk”: Meditations on the Reactions of 5 Female Friends

We all know that coming out is generally a huge deal (…even though it shouldn't be). As one contemplates the idea of sitting down with someone and spelling out the fact that he or she is different somehow, a barrage of doubts and fears pass through one's mind. Some might worry that their parents will blame themselves. Others worry that their friends might want to 'fix' them. What it all comes down to is acceptance. When someone has arrived at a point at which they are comfortable sharing perhaps the most intimate part of their life with you, they have already thought long and hard and have likely arrived at a conclusion. The only legitimate responses to something so serious are acceptance and support.

That said, other reactions can be downright hilarious.

Stacia was the first person I ever told. She was a co-worker and my romantic life had never come up at that point in our relationship because, frankly, it was non-existent. It was a couple of days after I'd met Grey and been pondering over what I had felt. We only had an hour a so a week that we were scheduled to work with each other and she happened to come in at the end of the day while I was finishing up a project. The stars aligned as everyone else finished up and went home, leaving us alone. As the last person was getting ready to leave, I said to Stacia very timidly, "We need to talk." I told her all about the night that I'd met Grey and that he was a very nice guy. Apparently, I went on and on about him because she picked up on what was going on immediately.

Her infectious smile was a huge comfort. In retrospect, I know that she knew more than I knew at that point. She could perceive the confusion on my face and the terror in my voice. In the most sensitive and she was probably doing her best to sit me down and help me evaluate my emotions (without laughing or somehow letting me know that she knew more than I did about what I was feeling). She simply asked me a number of pointed questions about that night with Grey. "How did he make you feel?," "Was it any different than you'd felt before?," "Do you think that you might like him not just as a friend?"

My answer at the time was "I don't know" (which in fact meant "Yes, I'm gay"), but I wasn't prepared to say that in the moment. Stacia simply reassured me that I seemed happier and that she would always be available if I needed to talk. That was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment.

End, Part 1.

Vanished: A Stereotypical Gay Breakup Story

After our last date seeing Wall-E, Mark didn't respond to calls or texts or get on Facebook for a few days. He disappeared.

It was rough on me. The only thing someone can do in that kind of a situation is blame himself. And that's what I did. I thought of everything I possibly could have said, everything I could have done, and everything I could have neglected to say or do to make him upset.

Finally, he showed up online one day. He said that the power had been out and the internet had stopped working for a few days. Always giving people the benefit of the doubt, I took him for his word and asked how things had been. The conversation soon led to a topic that neither of us were prepared to discuss.

He let me know that it was about time for him to go to the temple and didn't feel comfortable dating me so close to that event in his life because our last night of cuddling was the first time in his life he'd considered not going on a mission. With an aire of understanding, I wished him the best and let him know how much I learned during our time together and how much I would miss him. He left me comfortable with myself.

Being the first breakup I'd ever gone through, it was pretty devastating. We had our episodes like everyone else—the unfriending on Facebook (apparently, I was too much of a temptation), and the panicked "Don't out me" conversation when he found out I'd be working with his best girl friend from high school the next semester.

Despite the drama of this breakup, I didn't immediately learn the lesson that disappearing is a cowardly form of breakup. It took me being on the other side of the breakup to learn that there's a better way.

“The Wall-E Principle”

One of my favorite things about Cole the way he offers up random bits of wisdom. A certain tenseness comes across his face in anticipation of sharing. He smiles, turns a bit red, and commands everyone's attention as he draws a breath to begin whatever story he is about to tell.

For being just 24 years-old, Cole commands a lot of attention. He's accomplished a lot and has had more than his fair share of life lessons. He's also kind of loud, so that helps too, I suppose.

Cole refers to one gem of wisdom that he tends to share somewhat infrequently as "The Wall-E Principle." I was sitting next to him as he made this discovery in the theater last year, so I can give you a full account of his experience gaining this wisdom (as well as share with you the personal ironies of my love life which accompanied it).

I was seeing Mark at the time and we decided to go to Wall-E with some of my other friends. It was a nice opportunity for them to meet him (even if I wasn't able to introduce him as my boyfriend at the time). It was a big step for me. Everyone treated him like they would any other friend of mine.

As the movie started, I sat there between my best friend and my boyfriend. There was no other place I would rather have been at that moment. (Well, that's not completely true. Being in my home town did prevent me from holding his hand). As the music and opening credits began to roll, I looked over at Cole. He'd had a rough week, and the film immediately drew out of him some worries and emotions that had been in his thoughts that week. Before the credits had even finished, he was in tears. It didn't take long before a concerned father (who had brought his four children to see the movie) sitting on the other side of Cole to ask, "Are you going to be okay?" I smiled, but knew that this formed part of Cole's process of healing and renewal.

To my left, I watched Cole's reaction to the story. I could sense that it would produce (at least in a minor sense) some sort epiphany in my friend, following an abusive and emotionally draining relationship with a bad breakup to boot. He would later go on to explain how the movie details the most essential part of love. As the two main characters WALL-E and EVE are robots, they are very easy to understand. They possess singular, programmed motivations: EVE's to find life on earth and then return to the ship, and Wall-E's to collect trash (and, presented with the opportunity, maybe hold EVE's hand). However, by the end of the film, their relationship has led them to take on each others purposes: WALL-E seeks the plant that was in EVE's custody, while EVE desires to hold WALL-E's hand. Yes, they possess pre-programmed motivations, but as their relationship develops, they take on each others purposes.

The movie shed some light on the process of love as the two robots came together. Love is forgetting yourself in someone else. In his interests, his purposes, and most importantly his well-being. With Mark, I came as closely to that ideal as I have ever come.

Ironically, that was the last night I ever saw Mark. While Cole's face emanated hope and renewal, Mark's subtly communicated a hollow and reserved sense of reluctance. I didn't realize it at the time, but he had something he needed to talk to me about. He drove me home, gave me a good night kiss and another because I asked for it, then he left.

The Big Question

When people come to me for relationship advice (something I don't endorse at all…) I have a pretty deep question at my disposition for a number of situations. It's one I've asked myself a few times including a quite recent episode:

"Are you falling in love or falling in love with the idea of being in love?"

Considering the last thing I wrote about was falling out of love, I suppose this topic might be a bit more hopeful.

When I was first figuring things out, I really puzzled over this question. I don't think it came from anywhere, but it was present just in my mind. I wanted to make sure (because pursuing a relationship with another man always seemed so unquestionably wrong a month earlier) that I wasn't motivated by a fear of being alone for the rest of my life or something equally desperate.

As it turns out, this question became somewhat of a scorecard as far as my relationships go. When I was seeing Grey, I considered my motivations a lot. "Why do I want to be with him?," "Why do I feel this way when he holds my hand?," and of course "Is what I'm feeling wrong?" Everything seemed to point to attraction and a desire to be a part of his life. As things soured and he decided he wasn't ready for a relationship with me (or anyone for that matter), all of those feelings came into question. Wanting to be a part of someone's life can be a selfish or a selfless motivation. Everything was left in gray for the moment.

When Mark came along, though, some light was shed on this issue. It seemed like we a lot more to offer each other in general. Aside from physical attraction, we had intellectual discussions, similar ambitions and interests, and we felt comfortable enough to open up about our most difficult life issues. By the end of our time together, Mark had taught me a very important lesson about understanding and loving myself the way that I am. It felt as if we had something to offer one another and had the potential to grow. I realized that I cared more for him than for the romanticized idea of being with him. Since then, that's made up a significant amount of the definition of a functional relationship.

It's also related to something my friend Cole calls "The Wall-E Principle."

50 Days of Mark

I have a confession to make. For the first time in my life, I went to the movies alone this week. It wasn't really on purpose, but I wasn't about to let a great movie like "500 Days of Summer" leave my town without seeing it.

The movie begins expressly providing a disclaimer that it is "not a love story" but rather "a story about love." Although I genuinely appreciate fabulistic romance films such as "Penelope," "Enchanted," or "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," anti-fairy tales also provide essential messages to those of us living in reality. "500 Days of Summer" is a prime example offering an important lesson in perspective.

The movie's strength lies in the fact that it looks at the same story multiple times. It is a movie of contemplation ("Why do I feel this way?," "Why can't I get over her?," etc.) and reflection, providing viewers with a unique story arc. The movie begins at the relationships climax—Tom and Summer have just "broken up" (in quotes because relationships are painted in shades of gray)—and the director spends the rest of the time jumping between points in their relationship showing us Tom's journey of healing.

The movie reminded me that sometimes falling out of love is necessary and—considering the fact that I've only fallen in love once—I've been lucky enough to only need to fall out of love once. One particular set of montages comes to mind. Tom poetically lists the things he loves about Summer only to say how much these characteristics irritate him later in the film, demonstrating the perspectives of in and out of love. I found this to be the only way to recover from my first breakup.

Things ended abruptly with Mark, my first boyfriend. He was preparing to go on his mission and close to going to the temple. He said that he didn't feel comfortable seeing someone and going to the temple. We basically left it at that. It was hard for me to go from being in a relationship and talking to him on a daily basis to almost nothing overnight. It took all of my emotional energy to keep from saying what I felt deep down.

I didn't want him to leave. I didn't want things to end. BUT I wanted what he wanted because that makes up a great deal of what love is (think "Wall-E" or "The Gift of the Magi"). Only now do I recognize the fact that my understanding of "love" is unavoidably romanticized. On a research trip shortly after the breakup, I fell apart a few times when someone with the same curly strawberry-blonde hair passed by or just the wrong song played on the radio.

Months later, I came to the conclusion that I was not letting myself heal. I needed to revisit and rethink the time I'd spent with Mark. I needed to look for the negative and I wasn't used to that as a reformed cynic and romantic positivist. The good nature and mystery that attracted me to him in the first place ultimately tore us apart. He intrigued me because he was so much like me and helped me understand so much, yet whenever I came close to asking about certain things, he would change the subject.

In the end, all of the thought and energy that made me think that he was the one left me with an important lesson. After months of healing, I finally picked up the pieces and felt comfortable enough to date other guys and after a little more time think that I could feel the same for someone else. That guy has yet to come around, but—now—I am grateful for everything I learned from that process despite those tough times.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Each news story about Utah's new governor, Gary Herbert, makes me wince a little more. Former Gov. Huntsman, provided Utah's gay community with some hope for progress in equality; however, that hope has been snuffed out with the announcement that Herbert does not believe protected classes should exist because:

"We don't have to have a rule for everybody to do the right thing. We ought to do the right thing because it's the right thing to do."

As far as existing protected classes go (gender, race, disability, etc.) this logic just doesn't hold up. If people had just done the right thing and treated people fairly, we would not have needed a civil rights movement. Did those who performed lynchings think they were doing the right thing? The truth of the matter is that people do not agree on what the right thing is. The purpose of the law is to define these grey areas in order to protect the innocent. Herbert poses the following question in defense of this point:

"Where do you stop? That's the problem going down that slippery road. Pretty soon we're going to have a special law for blue-eyed blondes."

Okay, so written protections of gays will lead to written protections of Aryans? (Wait, isn't that what Hitler did…. Ooh, that's pretty shifty even if it wasn't intentional, Mr. Herbert—tying gay rights to white supremacy…). Law is dictated not only by moral right, but also by necessity. Let's face it: people who don't fit into Utah's conventional scheme of gender attraction or identity have been discriminated against in the workplace and that should be the chief motivation for implementing such a law. Laws aren't based on how people should act, but what they actually do.

The “Not Gay” Man

"There are three types of men in Utah: the gays, the straights, and the 'not gays.' "—my best friend, Cole.

In LDS culture, many GMBs go through life being defended. When these boys are teased, their friends and family often come to their aid and say, "He's not gay."

That said, in 90% of cases, though, the "not gay" boy turns out to be gay (not an actual statistic to clarify). There may be something to the perception that young people have, or the tendency that we have as human beings to point out each others' "weaknesses." Whatever the case, family, friends, and the boys themselves feel the necessity to defend themselves against such accusations.

One example is my best friend Cole. Throughout high school, bullies targeted him for his artistic abilities and his mannerisms. All of his friends, myself included, made an effort to support him by telling his tormentors and witnesses that he was "not gay." I, myself, received similar (perhaps more tactful) accusations on my mission based upon the way I crossed my legs from dear friends.

Roughly one month after I came out to Cole, he confirmed the suspicions of not only those bullies (a number of whom came out themselves) but also many of the friends who defended him. Reactions, as in any case, were mixed. He felt a slight sense of resentment from a few of his friends, but most were happy with his announcement.

The major lesson to be learned is that although we truly never know the complete story of anyone's life, people's perceptions that counter the person's self-perception can never be completely discounted. In other words, we must be sensitive not only to the ways that a person perceives him/herself, but also to the way he/she does not (or perhaps does not yet) him/herself.

What am I getting at?

Last night, I watched the movie Julie and Julia with my friends for my friend Annie's birthday. It's a movie I highly recommend. One that touches on how the simple things in life such as cooking or the love of another person (simplicity there is debatable, I know) can bring joy to one's life.

In the film, Amy Adams and Meryl Streep's characters' are both brought purpose and meaning as they cooked; however, I feel that the greater art in these life lessons—what really gave them focus and joy was sharing their joys and struggles through the written word. As someone who studies the written word, I may be biased, but it is the most purposeful way for two people to connect as the writing process requires editing, consideration of one's audience, and construction of voice.

In the movie, Julie starts a blog to bring meaning to her life, setting the goal of cooking all of the recipes in Julia's cookbook. As she sets out on her journey to complete every recipe in Julia Child's cookbook, she explains the goal to her readers.

All of that led me to wonder if I'd provided any meaning to those of you who stumble upon this blog. I struggle sometimes with being direct, so I'll come right out and say just what I hope to accomplish through my writing. This blog (about the experiences of a GMB one year after the actual events generally) was created in order to:

• Reflect on these events and how I've changed/grown.
  
• Help me understand the GMB culture I live within.
  
• Help others who are in a similar situation to my own.
  

In the short time that I've been writing, I've received a few laughs and a few thank yous. That is as satisfying and meaningful as the writing itself.

Sharpening That Utah Gaydar

A couple of months after one of my best girl friends returned from her mission, my best friend decided that it was time we broke the news to her. It was difficult for all of us. Jacqueline, the friend in question, was shocked and upset by the prospect of her two best male friends were gay. Both of us had served missions. Both of us had been ideal friends in high school and afterwards, yet such a revelation inevitably resulted in a sense of betrayal.

As Jacqueline came to terms with the idea of her two best guys being gay (one doesn't necessarily adjust to the fag hag mantle at the drop of a hat), she needed time space and the help of a few friends who had already gone through such a transition. Eventually, she came around and we found ourselves, weeks later with another friend from Provo, at PF Chang's sitting down to a twenty-something's idea of a fancy dinner.

Within a few minutes, the conversation turned to the gay life in Utah. "Utah must have the worst dating scene there is. How do you even find somebody?" Cole, the other gay bff, pointed out one of the waiters and within a few minutes the waiter returned a flirting glance. Shocked, Jacqueline gasped unintentionally and once the waiter was out of sight exclaimed, "How did you do that?!"

We explained that it's a science that comes with practice and is by no means perfect. Within ten minutes we had a list:

1. Is the facial hair nicely trimmed?
   
2. Does the hair stick up in any way (ie. a faux hawk)?
   
3. Are the shoes pointy or at least Italian-looking?
   
4. Does he have cologne in his car? Hair products?
   
5. Is his but tucked as he walks?
   
6. Are his clothes exceptionally well coordinated? (ie. Does his underwear match the rest of his outfit?)
   
7. V-necks?
   
8. Is there a gym membership on his key chain? Or a rewards card to any of the following: a high-end clothing store, a shoe store, a book store?
   

   …
   

Now let's be honest. The aforementioned characteristics are coveted in a straight man which is why it seemed a little piece of Jaqueline died each time we added a point to this list. As the conversation came to an end, she exclaimed "I'm going to end up marrying Bronson!" (one of our more frumpy and awkward high school friends).

To her credit, we did make it seem as if all of the attractive single men in Utah are gay (or gay and don't know it), but we offered her a consoling piece of advice: marry a boy with sisters. "If there's any hope of a straight boy being somewhat concerned about his appearance," Cole advised, "he's probably learned it from his sisters."

Coming Out to Myself, Part Three

Having spent two years of my life telling people to answer the feelings they found in their heart and to heed to the answers of prayers, I only had one choice: I flirted back. I looked into his blue eyes, admired his physical features and intelligence, and knew why I had been unhappy: I hadn't let myself feel. My heart gyrated the rest of the night. Not out of worry or shame, but out of hope and satisfaction for the bit of my life which now felt resolved.

After dinner, we called it a night and said our goodbyes and our "nice to meet yous" as we were accustomed to doing. On the drive home that night, my heart continued to sputter with questions. We reminisced a little and discussed the night. I asked a few pointed questions testing the water. "What do you think of Grey?", "Do you think he's gay?", etc. Everyone had picked up on his flirting, but having known me for six years my sexuality didn't seem to be in question. In fact, they felt comfortable enough to tease me about the flirting and our future together only leading to stronger palpitations.

As soon as I'd dropped off the last of the friends who had gone with me, I immediately pulled out my phone and texted my best friend thanking him for inviting us and introducing me to Grey and his other friends. He immediately replied back (more aware of what had taken place that I'd anticipated), "He's a good one. Very well-informed." And a bit later, "Grey asked for your cell number. I sent it to him. Hopefully you won't mind?" Naturally, I didn't and things turned out for the better.

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.

Walking the Fence

Over the past year, I've found that walking the fence is one of the most difficult tasks that I've ever faced in my life. It didn't take more than a few months to find out that I was not the first or last one to try. There was a mutual understanding between Mark and myself that 'Pushing Daisies,' our favorite television show, appealed to us on a very personal level as GMBs (Gay Mormon Boys).

For us, a line was drawn that we could not cross. Like the main characters on the show, Ned and Chuck—both men's names, I might add—had a limit placed upon the level of their intimacy of tragic proportions. Even though we felt very strongly for one another, we knew that there were limits to how far we could go exactly. We both understood that, together, we could not go any farther than cuddling and making out. Although this was the main reason we felt compatible with one another, it was also the source of our demise.

In the past year, I've seen many GMBs defining and walking these rigid lines. For the most part, the topic is simply taboo. Often, we're taught from a young age that gay and evil are synonyms when in fact the two are anything but mutually exclusive. As a good friend once said to me, "I wish I didn't have to explain to people that I'm a good person and I'm gay. I choose to be a good person." GMBs adapt in several different ways. The following types form a spectrum of fence-walkers:

The Repressor—An all-too-common response to homosexuality is counseling in order to repress these feelings and replace them. Whether these 'remedies' purport to repress or fix the feelings, the basic message is the same: "gay is evil." I couldn't think of anything more difficult than admitting that one of the most essential parts of myself is evil. Upon being in invited to one of these support/counseling groups by a high school friend, I was initially insulted especially when he said that it would help me live the most normal life possible."

The 'Out' Mormon—In my life, I've come across maybe a half dozen GMBs who are 100% out and 100% active in the church. Some are even able to serve missions. Consequently, scrutiny comes from both sides of the fence and it becomes impossible to please the most closed-minded in the gay and the LDS communities. Also, by being 100% out, GMBs accept the limits LDS standards place on their relationships.

The Ever-In—One of the most complicated solutions is to fully embrace the gay side (sorry to wax so 'Star Wars' suddenly), but not share with those who would disapprove and are affiliated with the church. Generally, this means the family, but in some cases high school friends and mission friends. In my experience, GMBs in this situation often choose not to pursue relationships that present any risks. Upon mentioning that one of my siblings—close to his family—knew he was gay, he simply disappeared (I believe) because I presented a threat.

The Schizo—At the risk of sounding incredibly insensitive, I've observed that many guys consider certain GMBs just plain insane. A select few GMBs are able to resolve the conflict between religion and homosexuality by living a life of self-contradiction. They, in fact, divide their psyche into two selves. One goes to church, the other to the orgies. Consequentially, trying to live both lives comes at the cost of one's integrity and perhaps one's sanity.

By no means do I intend to imply that any of these methods are unethical or unacceptable (I lie somewhere in between the 2^nd and 3^rd categories). Each GMB's situation (esp. with his family) is different from the other and comparing my situation to anyone else's will only lead to my unhappiness. Looking at other GMB's situations and understanding them, however, has helped me to not blame myself for them making choices different from the ones I make.

The Wanderings and Delusions of a Gay Mormon Boy

I suppose I've been meaning to sit down and do this for a while, but I often feel like I have to have a special occasion or some other excuse to start something and keep to it. Nonsensical, I know, but I can't help it. My neuroses show quite often.

The special occasion of starting all of this is an anniversary of sorts. One year ago I had my first kiss.

It wasn't like I'd imagined. It wasn't with my best friend growing up or the girl who wrote me throughout my mission or over an alter. (Yes, I was that naïve). It was the simplest of dates—dinner and a movie—overlooking the Salt Lake Valley. The major discrepancy here doesn't lie in the where or the what, but in the who. His name was Mark and he made me happy to know I wasn't the only one.

I wasn't the only Mormon boy who didn't understand why he had no desire to go out with girls. The only one who wondered why he wasn't interested in the girls. The only one who wanted to continue in the church without ignoring the emotions I'd just come to understand. Both of us had decided we were going to live our lives on that metaphorical fence between the gay world and the church world. And, finally, both of us were obedient, but only as much as we felt was right or fair.