A Series of Sundays, Part 4

April 5, 2009

Bit by bit, Putting it together
Piece by piece, working on the vision night and day
All it takes is time and perseverance
With a little luck along the way

 

“Stu’s twenty-seven, totally loveable, and not married? What’s wrong with this guy?” jibed one of his counselors. 

“He must be gay,” called a young twenty-something from the back of the classroom. 

Another teased in melodic tone, “Better go see the Bishop!”

I let out a frustrated sigh drown out only by the Elders’ Quorum’s laughter around me.  Do they realize how alienating that is?  I looked around curious at who was laughing at me and many of my friends simply for being different.  While it was entirely alienating to face the “them” and “us,” “good” vs. “evil” implications staring me in the face, I found some consolation in the fact that not everyone was amused in homophobia. 

No one displayed the outrage I felt inside (including myself), though there were pockets of sensitivity and liberal thought.  A headshake here, a hand over ones eyes there, and a couple of other men gauging reactions in their vicinities. Was the alternative better?

After a year of knowing and accepting my homosexuality, I was forced to come to terms with the complexity of the matter, and while I’d nearly finished a degree in dissecting complex systems of thought and language, I felt unprepared to do so in a real-life situation.  That said, I felt more and more that those around me didn’t have the answers I sought either. 

That night, I sat at my desk multi-tasking.  I’d escaped my Usual Sunday funk.  I was smiling and as energized as I’d felt in months.  Between the class readings, general writing, and comic strip doodling on some graph paper, I noted a chime from across the room.  I walked across the room and stooped over my laptop in the windowsill—the one place in the house I could log into an anonymous unsecured network in the neighborhood. 

“You have a new message from Cliff:

“Hey GMB,

“So, I don't really know how to go about this without possibly being awkward, so let me just get straight to the point.

“I'm gay, and I know that you are too. You may have already figured that out about me, but if not....there you go! Ha ha!I knew that we had a few friends in common that are gay, and so I wondered. Then i saw your profile on connexion and obviously I knew for sure. Anyway, I don't know how you are feeling about things and dealing with it all, but I have a really great group of friends up here and around Utah that have been great for me in helping me come to terms with this and live as much of a normal life as I can. I just want to let you know that I'm here if you ever need me for anything. Call or text whenever!…”

Cliff was one of the guys I noted took exception with the joke this morning.  He sat with Abel and Marty, two guys I’d suspected were gay.  All four of us had grown up together, and now I knew I wasn’t alone in the ward.  Certainly, there was a great deal of consolation in Cliff’s outreach. 

However, something felt off.

I thanked him sincerely for the offer and had no doubt that his offer was one filled with love and concern for a fellow gay Mormon boy.  The support he offered was definitely what many people needed.  A tightknit group like Cliff, Abel, and Marty needed each other to work through the complicated situation we all faced at that time. 

That was not what I needed in that moment, however.  I was starting to make sense of the spiritual side of my life, and the answers I sought would only come from within. 

Sonriso, Part 9

The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief. 
~William Shakespeare, Othello

It was over—over in the most ambivalent of ways.  I still smiled at the thought of him but knew he’d be nothing more than an ideal in my life—just the right combination of intellectual, emotional, and sexual rise was (and perhaps still is) inspired by the mere flashes of his picture on Facebook or the occasional flashback to a memory together. 

In conversation, he’d often come up as an ideal guy.  He’d managed to resolve his issues with Mormonism and being gay as I was attempting to do the same in my life.  However, that remained a secondary or tertiary variable in my attraction.  Not long after my decision to give up pursuing a relationship with him, a chat window popped up on Connexion.  The picture had a Cheshire quality—a large smile and a rounded face:

“It seems we went to the same school.  You write pretty well.  Do I detect an influence of Nellie in your words?”

“Nellie Carter?” I responded.

“Yep.”

“How did you guess?  I took a column writing class from her.”

“I just have an eye for words.  Anyways, I’m Rick.”

“A pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

“I see we’re both friends with Evan Davis.”

“He’s perhaps the cutest of my friends on here.”

“He’s definitely a sight to behold.”

“That’s a good way to put it.  His type doesn’t come around often.  I’m having a hard time getting over my crush on him.”

“Interesting.  It looks like I’ll be meeting him at the club tonight.”

“Yeah? I’m meeting up with him for some coffee beforehand with a few friends.”

“So I guess that means we’ll be meeting up, too….”

After a tennis game of flirty retorts, we said our goodbyes and I noted the fortunate coincidence that I’d be meeting another cute and intelligent boy that night.

I made my way to Salt Lake with my clubbing buddies Ezra (who’d just moved into the Wood House) and Alberto.  We met Evan on his doorstep—the one I’d hesitated on that night of the first date.  The place and that moment took me back even though it was not the two of us.  I didn’t want to leave and the unhealthy desire to somehow claim him clouded my head.  He was distant because he was healing and I had no reason to impose my feelings as I had been in a similar enough position to understand, albeit in glimpses.

On the way to the coffeehouse, he conveniently mentioned that Rick would be joining us.  A smile came to my face as a result  of the coincidental conversation which had occurred earlier that day. 

Waiting for Ezra and Alberto to do each others’ hair, Evan and I sat across the table from one another.  Almost defensively, I turned the conversation to the connection we shared which would not send me into some sort of emotional hailstorm:

“How’s your brother doing? Erik and I talk once in a while after the mission but him finding out about my dating life and… preferences… would make that somewhat more difficult.”

“That’s the truth. Try being his brother for eighteen years and having that discussion.”

“He seems to be doing well.  I mean, he's the definition of Peter Priesthood.  Isn’t he in like eight different church choirs?

“Ha!  Yeah.  he practically lives in the church building,” he said rolling his eyes.”

“I think that’s actually part of the reason we became good friends so quickly.”

He smirked knowingly. “Yeah.  That’s part of it.”

We paused, expecting an explanation or question to fill the air.

“That’s all I can say,” he said with the same smirk as he sipped at his chai. 

“Hey guys,” Alberto said, interrupting.  “How does my hair look.” He’d just come from the bathroom with a Macy’s bag filled to the brim with hair products.

“With Alberto, hair is never perfect. He just abandons it when we all get tired of him asking about it,” Ezra said.  “I’ve been listening to him bitch about a single cowlick for the last twenty minutes.”

With that, the direct conversation with Evan ended as the discussion turned to common friends and how long it had been since we’d all been dancing.  My mind vacillated between topics—my inescapable attraction to Evan, his cryptic mention of my missionary friend and his brother, and the distraction that Rick would hopefully provide that night.

Rick’s arrival came with some knowing smiles on my part and his.  “This is Rick,” Evan announced to the guys sitting around the table.

“Hey everyone,” he said—a bastion of confidence.  All aglow, he plunged into conversation with a half-dozen people as the waitress—a friend of his—brought over his regular quad-shot mocha.  After some meandering around the table for a few minutes, he finally took a seat across the table next to Evan.

The conversation continued as I found an unexpected anxiety creep up on me and press against my chest.  Rick took his arm and placed it around Evan, caressing his back on occasion.  It was hard to swallow, but the reality was that the cute intellectual wasn’t after me after all.  Painfully, my sense of alienation doubled over itself with every signal of affection that I could not bestow upon Evan—an arm around him, a chivalrous opening of the door, hours spent together on the dance floor.

The sinking feeling of jealousy left me powerless.  Rick taking Evan’s hand at the end of the night to hold it left me with a deep sent of resentment for my over-sensitivity.  It has always been me weakness, I thought to myself.

Rick knew my feelings for Evan and I wonder at times whether, as he smiled and glanced in my direction, his pleasure was somehow augmented by my overpowering anxiety.  My frustration of not being able to read a simple assemblage of teeth and muscles also left me questioning for weeks whether my romantic quest would ever amount to anything more than a series of heartbreaks.  If I could not rely on my sensitivity or instincts, what could I rely on?

In the end, I was reassured by a simple, genuine smile.

“That guy does not know how to take a hint,” Evan recounted at a party.  “I’d pull my hand away, but he didn’t pay any attention.  I took FOUR trips to the bathroom that night for some alone time.  He was kind of upset after I turned him down for a date a couple days later.”

The reassurance that my respect was more than hyper-sensitivity put the confident smile on my face that I needed as the desire to enter a relationship would finally be satisfied.

End of series.

Le Gars de Chocolat Chaud

There I was. It was a busy morning at work. Paperwork had piled up, emails awaited response, and appointments waited to be arranged. I couldn’t get any of this work done. A tingly sensation was in the air. Partly out of worry and partly out of sheer giddiness, I completely lacked focus.

A half hour into work, a visitor arrived. It was my first time seeing him in person. His skin a gorgeous olive tone, his hair jet black and receding ever so slightly, I was taken immediately by the gesture.

“Hi, GMB. I hope your day’s going well. I just thought I’d bring you some hot chocolate and say hi.”

He flashed me a smile and chuckled briefly as he watched my reaction, then turned around and left.

“Catch you later.”

He quickly made his way out of the door, a little faster with the joy of a good deed done. It was a sort of expected surprise.

He started up a conversation on connexion. A simple hello leading to a discussion on the proper ways to pronounce the words “either,” “tomato,” and “banana.” His name was Toni and he definitely wasn’t from Utah.

“Do you mind if I ask where you’re from?” I asked via instant messaging.

“Of course not. I’m from the Middle East.”

“Really? That’s awesome. I guess that’s a bit like my situation. Being gay and Mormon.”

“Yeah. I guess. It’s different. Harsher, I think. My mom’s been really supportive. Sure, she put me in counselling and thought I was a terrible person for a while, but she always loved me.

“I worry about that happening. We’re not meant to be fixed, Toni.”

Perhaps for the reason that we were from two distinct cultures tied together by conservatism and ‘traditional’ ideas of love we formed a bond.

“Let me take you out for a drink sometime,” he said.

“Sure. Anytime,” I quickly replied.

“Let’s grab a beer sometime.”

“Nah. I don’t drink.”

“How about a coffee sometime on campus?”

“On campus would be fine. I work near the café, but I don’t drink coffee. I’m down with hot chocolate, though.”

“Okay,” he said, “expect a surprise tomorrow. Have a good night.”

In a matter of minutes, I’d contacted Cole and told him exactly what had happened.

“So this Hot Chocolate Boy is pretty cute then?

“Definitely. We’ll see where it all goes. I’m excited, but I don’t want that to rule my emotions.”

“That’s a very GMB thing to say, you know—you don’t want it to, but it will.”

And, of course, he was right. The next morning, I was very distracted, and even after he arrived with said ‘surprise.’

I was taught that taught in church that random acts of kindness can melt our hearts and that’s really what happened in this case. The hopeless romantic—the one I’d always dreamed of becoming but never thought would exist before I realized my sexuality—was being touched once again. The act was nothing extravagant, but somehow reminded me of the dream I held looking at the timeless romances of my straight friends like Nate and Chenese. I was reassured that the sweetness of their ‘everyday fairytale’ romance could exist for me.

That said, Toni later shared with me much more difficult lessons for a hopeless romantic.

End, Part 1.

Adventures in Internet Dating, Part 9

Epilogue

For months, I pieced together the other half of Drake Hatch’s identity. As I felt out the gay world, some names became synonymous with philanthropy and others with political activism. Wherever I went, Drake Hatch was known for being a player—a dating machine that everyone tended to fall for even though he was so guarded.

Preposterous as it might sound, the fact that I had tied myself to him emotionally and psychologically at that point seriously put my identity—the one I thought I’d figured out—in question.

It was a question of fate and destiny. I’d tied my identity so much to his past I worried my future would soon evolve into his life. Do I have the potential to become a ‘player?’ Some sort of heart breaker? Is there any way to keep that from happening?

I knew very well that I was in charge of who I became and what I did, but he showed me a potential that I was not prepared to see in myself. Not a month later, a guy completely unaware of what had been going on in my head following these two dates joked, drawing on our parallel pasts and a busy dating life, “At this rate, GMB’s going to be the new Drake Hatch.”

If others saw that potential as well, I had to be doubly-conscious of the decisions I was making and the way I treated the guys I dated. I wasn’t going to disappear. I was going to share too much instead of too little about my past. I was going to be more open with my feelings. I was going to live to a standard of complete honesty.

In the coming months, I continued meeting people online because of the good I’d seen in people. Not all guys were trying to find somebody to use or some cheap one-night thrill. Many of us were genuinely looking for something more. There were guys (like Kevin and the first Drake) that showed enough concern so as to watch out for me even though they hardly knew me. And each of them had some continuing impact on my life whether that be as a result of the world we live in or a web of fate woven before us.

In the gay world, it’s very hard to disappear—to not be somehow tied to another person for a very long time. We would continue to run into each other, often under unexpected circumstances, and come up in conversation among gay circles. The lesson to learn was one of accountability. The experiences we have with one another travel quickly and reputations are hatched even faster (in part because of the internet).

The time had come to forge my own reputation to make my own destiny. Would it be constructed from my fear of becoming the next Drake Hatch or out of confidence in who I really was and who I wanted to become?

End of Series.

Adventures in Internet Dating, Part 8

The Future in Front of Me

Drake Hatch had a bashful smile and a kick in his step as we approached each other for the first time. I’m sure my own reaction practically mimicked his expression as we drew closer. Our lives, too, mirrored each other in ways more uncanny than I could have imagined.

After a friendly hug and some typical How-was-your-day? conversation, he told a story I’d heard before (for it was my own):

“Suddenly, one day it all clicked. I met a guy—the right guy in the right time and place—and suddenly I didn’t feel broken. It made sense why girls held absolutely no appeal. Before I knew it, I found myself in a relationship and happier than ever because that question had been answered and that void had been filled.”

As in the case of me and Mark, things didn’t work out between him and that first guy after a year-long relationship.

“I’m sorry to hear things didn’t work out,” I said almost in reflex.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It would have worked out if it was supposed to.”

I was impressed that he had that kind of faith that it had a purpose.

As we walked, we seemed to click on so many levels. He had gone through the same experiences and situations at the exact same age that I had. He’d gone on a mission. He’d had the proverbial rug pulled out from under him. Yet he handled himself so well. I hoped that some day I might become like him—satisfied with life and okay with disappointments. He'd figured it out.

As that first date came to an end, we found ourselves frustrated that we didn’t get to talk about everything we wanted to ask each other. I wondered when I’d see him again.

“Why don’t we do this again tomorrow?” he suggested. “Would you be free?”

“I’d love to.”

I could not have been more or spoken more affirmatively

The next day, the conversation started right where it had left off as we told each other stories about our time on campus as we passed particularly important landmarks to our past.

He told me about how his boyfriend would come and find him in the library. He’d somehow pull Drake Hatch into an empty room or under a desk and make out with him, charged with the suspenseful thought that someone might catch them or they might get too loud.

The locale of the fantasy particularly impacted me—a center of knowledge and learning just amplified the sexuality and excitement—a sensation he picked up on instantly, pursing his lips slightly as he chuckled and flashed a flirty grin.

I showed him the amphitheater where I took Mark on our first date. I was aware that it was a make-out point on campus and wanted him to be the first as we sat there watching 30 Rock on my laptop.

Eventually, the discussion turned to a more serious aspect of our lives as we found ourselves sitting on a bench outside the library.

“What’s your family situation like?” I asked curious about what my own future might look like continuing on the path he’d left in his wake.

“You mean am I out to them?”

“Yeah. Are they okay with it?”

“They don’t know.”

“After five years, wouldn’t they know?”

“"I haven’t told them. They’d want me to see someone and go back to church and I don’t want that.”

“What about your brothers? Do they know?”

“Not really. You’re in the same boat, I’m pretty sure.”

“You’re right. I am,” I admitted. I thought for a serious moment if that’s where I wanted to be three years down the road. Trying to lighten the mood, I asked “So what is your relationship like with your brothers? Are you close?”

“We’re close. We’ve done shows together and we all went to school together.” Rather than alluding to why he wasn’t out to them, he simply elaborated more on their relationship before asking me about my family. “So, how’s your brother Darin? I wondered if he was gay, too.”

“Definitely not. Funny you ask about him, though,” I said, “You came up in conversation last night. I asked if he remembered you from camp and he said ‘He’s the gay one, right?’”

Drake Hatch was a little shocked. His face and posture tightened. What I thought was funny genuinely worried him. Returning to lighter topics—the shows he was auditioning for, missions, the supervisor we’d shared, our hometown hangouts—we finally got back the momentum that we’d lost in our difficult talk.

As the time came for us to say goodbye, for him to return to his fast-paced life in Salt Lake and me to my homework, we hugged. “Thanks for hanging out,” I said.

“I’m so glad we did,” he said with that bashful smile he’d started with. Pausing for a moment, he asked, “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

“Not at all.”

And there—alone—in front of the library his lips touched mine softly only to pull away a second later. “Goodbye,” he said as he turned to leave.

“Goodbye,” I echoed in an unabashedly enamored voice, turning the other direction. We went our separate ways in perfect symmetry.

All I could think about for the rest of the day was how wonderful those two days had been for me, and that I wasn’t the only one to figure things out so late in the game.

Unfortunately, that was the end.

From the next day on, all of my texts and messages went unanswered. Drake Hatch had simply disappeared and the future in front of me was crumbling.

End, Part 8.

Adventures in Internet Dating, Part 7

Unexpected Delight

It’s not often you meet someone who’s shared a great deal of your life with but have never met.

In the case of Drake Hatch (so-named because his name had that dynamic ring to it and because the previously-mentioned Drake happened to message me on the same day), that was definitely the case.

It started out with a simple message on Connexion:

Welcome to Connexion! I thought I’d say hi. It looks like you’re in my hometown? Are you going to school there? I don’t suppose we went to high school together? I graduated in 2000.

This was a delightful surprise. As I was entering this world in search of connections and common experiences, I was optimistic that I might have someone to relate to on multiple levels in Drake Hatch.

To be honest, I didn’t find him all that attractive based on his pictures. His eyes were droopy and his hair seemed a little thin. However, I responded immediately. He made conversation easy. There was a chance we might know each other. He even seemed to be in search of similar connections based on the way he’d written his message.

What resulted was more than I could have ever anticipated. The conversation that played out over the course of two weeks—via text, instant messaging, and one or two phone calls—was invigorating in every possible way.

As it turns out, we didn’t just share a hometown. We shared numerous acquaintances. He and my cousin were leads in their high school musical. We’d taken classes from the same professors. He had mentored my little brother, Darin, in EFY (Especially for Youth—a type of summer camp for LDS teens).

Every little connection seemed to justify the experiences I’d been having over the past months. He somehow made everything make sense. I wasn’t the only one who had come out of this place a gay Mormon boy.

Somewhat out of the blue, he texted me one day:

“Guess what!? I’ll be in town this week for Thanksgiving. Would you like to meet up and maybe go on a walk?”

It was the type of surprise that makes someone’s day. A visit from a friend/romantic interest in a couple of days put a bright smile on my face. Suddenly, I was excited and ready for the droll family get-togethers. Dinner with my ornery, Limbaugh-loving trucker of an uncle and an assortment of other relatives with whom I find myself disconnected suddenly seamed half the task it did before.

In the days leading up to the meeting, my texting load easily doubled or tripled as we continued our conversation. We made a plan to meet up. It would be a chance to say “hi” and swap stories in person. It would also be a chance to test whatever emotional or physical attraction we might have to each other.

On the eve of our fated encounter, I was working on a paper in my living room as I received a text from the guy who had occupied my attention more than any other guy in those two weeks:

“I’m excited to meet face to face tomorrow. I’m a little impatient, though. Would you mind sending a picture?”

This was a first for me. I was a self-declared luddite. I managed to put off getting a phone for the first year after my mission and didn’t use text messaging for another full year. A picture was kind of thrilling, but I’d just gotten out of the shower and my hair was a mess.

“I’d rather not. I don’t even have my contacts in,” I responded.
“I’ve seen you done up on your profile. I want something more candid. Haha.”

It was definitely sweet in a way. He wasn’t looking for anything steamy or dirty. This was a way to flirt with me and pass a little time at his parents place. I sent the picture and we texted our good nights eagerly awaiting our meeting the next day.

The next day, I got up just in time to walk to my closet, carefully pick out a suitable, warm outfit and polish myself in the mirror before leaving.

It was late morning and we decided to meet on campus and take a walk down memory lane. I sat there for a while leaning against the hood of my car, hoping it would get a little warmer, that he would be the same in person as he was on the phone, that we would enjoy ourselves.

As he arrived and stepped out of his car, I realized at that moment that things weren’t quite as I’d perceived them to be.

“Hi. You must be GMB,” he said.

Drake Hatch was as friendly and warm as I’d expected, but his pictures, it seems, had mislead me. In person, he was much more attractive—his eyes were full of optimism and his smile immediately led my mind to thoughts of kissing.

I was quickly falling for him.

End, Part 7.

Adventures in Internet Dating, Part 6

Coming of age

Warning: this post contains an adult discussion some may consider profane.

Kevin was fascinated by my innocence. He wasn’t the only one. Many guys’ fascination with innocence has to do with taking it away. In fact, many of them made that offer in the coming months. Kevin was different, however. He respected that I had not done anything more than make out with a guy.

There we were in his room. At first, I was worried about an awkward confrontation with Jack, his roommate who I’d dated a couple of months before; however, he was no where in sight. I had no intention of causing drama in the house.

Kevin sat at his computer desk checking his email as I perused his DVD collection for a movie to watch. Eventually, I came across Miss Congeniality.

“I haven’t seen this in a while,” I noted as he maneuvered his computer and speakers into position for a movie and cuddling session.

I was surprisingly at ease. I’d been very open about the fact that I didn’t want to be touched below the belt.

There was no doubt in my mind that he respected that as he repeatedly reassured me, “I wish I’d been as careful as you. There are a lot of things I shouldn’t have jumped right into. You don’t want to become a slut like I did.”

His history unfolded a little more:

“After I was here at college and on my own, I had total freedom to give into everything. I could give in to everything I’d wanted to for so long. And I did.

“I’ve been hurt plenty of times and regret a few things, but it really makes me wonder how you tick and how you’re able to keep from doing what almost all of the gay Mormon guys end up doing.”

I thought it over in my head as we laid there side-by-side under the covers of his twin-size bed. It was nice to be held. As the back of my head came to a rest just in front of his head, it was as if he was whispering something inaudibly as we silently watched the movie. He had shared with me things he didn’t feel comfortable discussing with other gay boys.

I felt special for thinking about more than just sex, for wanting to know guys, talk to them, and figure myself out before I did anything I’d regret for the rest of my life.

At that point, Kevin was the friend who had the most to offer me in that sense. I didn’t look down on him for what he’d been through or done in his wild years. We both accepted the underlying lesson that we could both learn from his mistakes.

Throughout the movie, he asked if he made me uncomfortable or if I needed anything. Consistently, I responded, “I’m fine, really” and we continued to enjoy ourselves. He also teased a few times that his hand would graze me somewhere inappropriate, but remained true to his promise. I suspect he was holding back a lot and I appreciated it. Still, by the end of the movie we were making out.

It was a little wetter and a little harsher than usual due to the scruff, but it was a fantastic release. It felt right (minus, perhaps, the slight taste of pastrami from dinner). We’d connected (to a degree), we’d enjoyed ourselves, and we were as honest with each other as we’d been to anyone else.

As the night came to a close, we sat there on his bed around 2 am. We’d returned to our conversation following the make-out session.

“So just how innocent are you?”

“I don’t know…. I’ve told you everything about my past.”

“No. I mean do you even know I’m talking about sometimes. A second ago, I said ‘cum,’ and you looked like you didn’t know what that means. Do you?”

“Um… no.”

“You really ARE that innocent! It’s slang for semen and you know what that is.”

I blushed and he kissed me as his hand traveled down my sides. Suddenly, he pulled away before his hand could go anywhere forbidden.

Kevin was having trouble talking. He was blushing and his laughter had silenced him. “What about top and bottom?” he asked with tears in his eyes.

“The guy on top and the guy on bottom, right?”

“Oh, GMB, it’s a little more complicated than that.”

I suppose that was one way to relieve me of a bit of my innocence without doing anything I might regret. Also, these were things I knew I’d need to know not to look like a fool in the gay world. Kevin, thus, became a sort of mentor. Somebody who cared about my integrity and kept me safe from foreseeable dangers—even when he felt he posed a threat.

End, Part 6

Adventures in Internet Dating, Part 5

The Wood House

While a date with Drake never came to fruition as a result of complications with the distance between us combined with difficult schedules, another guy entered the picture who didn’t really have those problems.  

So, I noticed your profile today.  You must be new in town.  I’m Kevin and I’m finishing up my last semester here.  I’d love to work in web design.  Okay.  Your turn.  Tell me a little about yourself.  Hehe.  ;)

Kevin was forward.  He was flirty and goofy.  The same in person as he was in his first messages as he was in person.  As we were both in the same city and had some common acquaintances it wasn’t long before we first met. 

He was just a little taller than me.  Dark-featured and scruffy, his eyes squinted a bit every time he showed his one-of-a-kind grin.   His voice and laugh represented the more nasal part of that spectrum.  All of this put me at ease early on in the date. 

At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of actually meeting someone I’d spoken to online.  Although it had been about a week since we began chatting and he seemed perfectly normal, there was an initial hesitation as a result that accompanies any first time meeting. 

We went to a sports bar for some burgers.  He got the pastrami and I got the ‘Hawaiian’ (so-named only because of the pineapple and Canadian bacon).

It was standard first date protocol.  Family, missions, and dating histories all came up.  He’d passed through everything I had gone through or planned on going through a year and a half earlier. 

“Did you have any cute mission companions?” he asked as we sat at a table for two next to the bar. 

“A couple, I guess—Elder Flores and Elder Stratford.”

“I served mostly with Latinos, and I’m not so into them.”

“Yeah?  Did your parents insist on you going on a mission?”

“Kinda,” Kevin said, wincing. “I’m the only boy.”

“So I guess it was hard when you were out there?” I asked.

“Yeah.  It definitely wasn’t easy.  Being gay was always on my mind.”

“For me, it was never an issue,” I stated. “I was lucky to not figure it out until afterward.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“It’s been about six months.”

“Wait,” he gasped.  “You’re telling me you’ve only known you’re gay for six months now?”

“Um… yeah.  And what have you done in that time?  Are you still a good boy?”

“The farthest I’ve ever gone is making out.”

“You can’t be serious.”

I assured him that I was being completely honest and that I had no plans of going any farther than that anytime soon.  He was fascinated by my innocence. Soon thereafter, we made our way to his place. 

On the way, he said, “You’re welcome to come in and talk some more.  I know the good boy’ll keep me from doing anything ‘bad’ tonight.”

As we pulled up to the house, I realized I’d been there before.  It was the wood house (so-named because of it’s stained, wooden exterior and the fact that so many gay boys had lived there).  A month earlier, I’d helped Jack move into the same house.  Little did I know that house would play a big role in my own future.

End, Part 5

Adventures in Internet Dating, Part 4

Connections

The other messages were far more promising. Drake, Kevin, and the other Drake were closer to my age and all of their profiles clearly stated “Mormon” under religion. They weren’t afraid of alluding to their background or to their missions.

The first Drake proved himself really down to earth:

Hey there. Your picture popped up on new members and then I realized you were in Utah. I thought I’d say hi. Watch out for the creepers on here, though.

Considering the experience just moments earlier, it was really comforting to read something so pointed, confirming my suspicions not only that there were sketchy characters on the site but also upstanding hero types. I immediately got the impression that he was a guy who’d watch out for me. He was handsome and had an amazing smile with the slightest, most endearing of gaps in his teeth.

I sent back a brief introduction and soon our correspondence developed into significant conversations about our families, about growing up in the church, and about dating. He’d been at this for a while, but knew where I was coming from as he indicated following a lengthy instant message conversation:

You really are brand new. You haven’t had sex. You’ve never even touched a guy. That’s something to respect. You haven’t had time to figure everything out. I’ve met guys in all sorts of situations and you’re really cautious. It’s okay. You’ve got to feel your way through.

His sensibility was frankly a turn on. He wasn’t about to pressure me into anything. I even felt comfortable later with giving him my number a few days later. I thought it might go somewhere.

“You do realize this is the first time I’ve ever given a stranger on Connexion my number, right?”
“I wouldn’t call myself a stranger. You know everything you can for knowing me this long and online.”

That was true. I’d made my first real-world connection with a guy online. It was something simple and early on in our conversations. It was something simple. His brother went to the same university and although I never met him, the fact that I knew his brother’s boss (as we discovered a few lines later) was enough to authenticate the experience in a way.

I was speaking to a real person already connected to me somehow. The cosmic thread that people speak of had somehow connected us in the web of life. One was left to wonder if these ties would draw us closer in the coming weeks.

Through our texting conversations, we told each other about our families. Drake told me all about his brother being the liberal one in the family—the go getter who set his big brother on dates with other guys and recently left for a mission. There was also his sister who lived ten hours away yet remained the bane of his family’s existence.

I opened up a lot about my family. After my mission, I was instantly closer to my little brother, Darin, because we could share clothes and hang out with each others friends. Yet when I’d figured out why he was able to have a charming girlfriend and I found myself consistently uncomfortable in even the most casual of situations with girls, I couldn’t share that with him because of the way he’d treated a friend who came out to him the year before.

“I can see why you’re worried, but things have only gotten better since I came out to my family,” Drake assured me.
“I’m sure, but I’m not ready.”

The conversation stalled there.

We attempted to meet up several times in the month or so that we really kept in touch, but somehow there was always something in our way. I thought it was because we were busy and cities apart. Drake—as we later discussed in a meeting of very unexpected circumstances (to be revealed in a later series)—thought it was because I wasn’t interested. And perhaps there were other reasons. As a result, my priorities shifted, so I wouldn’t miss out again later.

At this moment in my life, however, I was more concerned with being comfortable with a new situation and set of experiences. Sorting through Connexion and the interconnected gay world around me would soon provide a number of lessons in that vein.

End, Part 4.

Adventures in Internet Dating, Part 3

Salutations

“You have 6 new messages,” flashed the white letters at the top of the screen.

6 messages? Apparently, 6 strangers want to have sex with me?

My experience, however, proved that my ideas weren’t entirely true. Then again, they weren’t entirely false.

Two of those messages read something along the lines of “Hey” or “Hit me up sometime.” I suppose on any dating website they come across as shallow and questionable. Both were from guys who weren’t even in the same time zone, so a response didn’t seem all that important or necessary.

The remaining messages, however, were written with a modest amount of effort and sincerity. Don, Drake, another Drake, and Kevin. Each of them introduced themselves a bit, expressed their interest in some form, and left room for a conversation to start. And from day one conversation has never been a source of intimidation.

I read the first message with the analytical eye that I’ve been blessed/cursed with. What are they getting at? Why me? Etc.

Don:

I notice you’re new here and thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Don and I live in Salt Lake with my two dogs. I noticed you’re new here and thought I’d say hi.

Okay. He seems like a nice guy. He wants to find out what I’m interested in and why I’m on the site. What does his profile look like?

15 years older than me, balding, not all that attractive… It wasn’t all that descriptive. He wanted to meet cute guys with personalities. That’s still kind of vague.

My discretion told me: Proceed with caution: you might not want to date him, but who knows… he might be a friend?

A conversation couldn’t hurt. That’s the only way to tell for sure if anything was taken out of context or my analysis was inaccurate.

I responded:

Nice to meet you, Don. I’m GMB. I’m currently a student. I’m more of a cat person myself. Haha.

Something benign without getting too personal. It was perfect.

Minutes later I got a response to my message:

You’re really cute. What do you like to do for fun?
I’m really into writing. I like literature, poetry, and TV. What about you?

What followed was a set of messages that turned into a conversation, but not of the instant messenger sort:

What are your favorite movies?
My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a good one. And I love Love Actually.
Do you like the outdoors?
Camping’s not my favorite, but I really enjoy hiking. Do you work?
I like the outdoors. I can’t wait for summer. Are you from Utah?
Yeah. Born and raised. You?
Yep. Were you ever a missionary?
I was.
Where? So, do you come to Salt Lake a lot?
I’d rather not say. I’m not there often.
You’re welcome to stay here any time you’re around. And you can tell me where you served.
Um… honestly, I don’t think I’d be comfortable with that.

What started out as an innocent conversation just left me very uncomfortable—a big red flag. He asked questions but wouldn’t talk about himself. The questions themselves probed into parts of my life that I wasn’t comfortable discussing. And finally, I was left with the impression that all these guys were really after—as I had agonized when I opened up the account—was sex.

He messaged me a couple more times, apologizing that he’d given the wrong impression, but I just decided to block any future messages. It was what felt right.

In that moment, I was ready to turn back, to say I’ve had enough, and to give up, but he was just one guy. I decided to move on to the other messages.

Things can only get better from here, right?

And time would tell.

End, Part 3

Adventures in Internet Dating, Part 2

The Plunge

The construct of dating sites is one that took me a while to come to terms with. I really was lonely and perhaps even desperate as I went into it. Living in a small community and being relatively new to the gay world was intimidating, so the online experience seemed rather logical despite the stigma associated with not meeting guys in-person.

Hunter suggested a particular site to allay many of my anxieties associated with the predatory nature of the online dating world.

“Connexion isn’t like ManHunt or Craigslist,” he said. “They have rules on the kind of pictures you can post, so you don’t need to worry about running into porn where it doesn’t belong.”

“I just don’t feel like I’d be comfortable sharing everything that would be expected of me.”

“No, no, no. You don’t need to worry about that. If you’re not comfortable using your name, don’t worry. You don’t need to post pictures. You don’t even have to say much about you. The point is to start up a conversation and see where it goes from there. You feel your way through these things like you would anything else—minus the face-to-face.”

There was little arguing with that (and that’s coming from someone pretty skilled at constructing written arguments…), so the next day after work, I got online and pulled up the site.

Sure, I was a bit intimidated by the shirtless, speedo pics, but all-in-all it still felt right at the moment. I trusted Hunter and his tastes. I trusted my own discretion.

I had nothing to lose.

Cautiously entering the information the site asked for, I entered what information I deemed practical. Enough, but not too much.

Name?
G.M.B. My initials are safe, no?

Age?
23

Height?
6’

Weight?
165

A little superficial, Mr. Connexion, no?...

Relationship Status?
Single

Politics?
Left

Religion?...
For the first time in my life, I doubted what box I was supposed to check. Who I was supposed to be. Would someone look down on me for being a gay Mormon? Or would some zealot track down everybody who labeled himself as a gay Mormon and turn us in to church headquarters for prompt excommunication?
I simply left it out. I wasn’t sure what to put, so I left it blank. By no means was it a glaring omission, but it was a struggle in my heart of sorts.

This is the first time I can’t be confident, I can’t represent myself in writing, I can’t be sure of what I actually believe.

Interests?
Um…Research, Poetry…

Favorite TV shows?
That took a while…

Movies?
I’ll try not to sound too gay.

Books?
Try not to show off too much.

Music?
Show off that you’re both cultured and hip.

Then finally…
About me: & Looking for:
I explained where I was coming from: …ambitious and caring. …figuring things out…more satisfied with life than ever. Seeking…someone who I can share everything with…love and be loved back. A mess that’s been shaped of the last year.

I’m not sure why I felt comfortable including a picture, but I did. Like ripping the proverbial band-aid off, I quickly clicked on “Submit Changes” and went to bed

The next morning, I awoke to about a half dozen messages and began sifting through them.

End, Part 2

Adventures in Internet Dating

This series examines my plunge into the world of internet dating. I had my share of pitfalls as well as my share of triumphs and discoveries about myself.

Part 1: The Let Down

As I ventured into the gay dating world, I was filled with apprehension. I didn’t want to get mixed up with anybody who didn’t respect my boundaries. Although things with Cowboy Mark ended for related reasons, my optimism for a relationship with Anderson dwindled as he began rehearsals for another show and there was no time for me.

I felt a little bit selfish not being more patient—not waiting around—but after 3 weeks of not seeing him, I was lonely. I needed a change.

That’s when Hunter came into the picture. Hunter had come into my office months earlier. I had just gotten back from Canada and he’d stopped by to take care of some business for school. He had his suspicions of me and tested the waters.

“Canada, eh? I served my mission in Alberta. And last summer I lived in Toronto on Church Street?”

“Really? Isn’t it great?” I exclaimed as he sat across from me in my desk.

His bright blue eyes twinkled a bit with curiosity as he probed. He described in detail his experiences living amongst the drag queens, clubbing, and the annual gay PRIDE parade.

I was cautious. I knew exactly what was going on, but I played coy. I wasn’t ready to be that open at work. I wasn’t that ready to flirt with another guy in public. I smiled. I blushed. I did not—however—let on that his advances—his bashful grin, his directed gazes at my reaction to his more pointed descriptions—were making me very happy deep down.

It was all lost on me, I suppose. We both left it at curiosity for a couple of months. I met Anderson and Cowboy Mark and learned my lessons there while he went on his own journey in a new school with new people.

Then, running into him one day, I came out to him. I explained that I was closeted-ly coy that day and that we should hang out sometime. As we found out months after that exchange in my office, it was an interesting transition for both of us.

“I don’t know why I even suggested we go to Olive Garden. It doesn’t make sense to go on a date somewhere I eat and work on a daily basis even if the food is pretty good. You’d think I’d be sick of things like everything else,” he chuckled.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been a difficult transition here. That’s all.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Friends have been hard to come by and everyone’s just interested in sex. They’ve lost touch with a part of themselves.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t believe in the Church anymore—I’ve even asked that my records be removed—but that doesn’t mean I have to shed all of my morals and sleep with every guy I see. You can’t abandon the spiritual because everything happens for a reason.”

By this point, I had forged an identity as an active, gay, dating Mormon and this really struck me. He might not be LDS anymore, but he was in a place that I respected. Spiritual and confident. It was really endearing to find someone that valued that balance in life and was actively pursuing a relationship. That moment really moved me. There really were other good guys out there who had been through this without “losing touch” or becoming bitter in some way. I pulled up all of the shields and defenses I had down. I’d already found blonde, blue-eyed Hunter cute, but at that moment, my heart got a little caught up in the possibility of a serious relationship with him. In that moment, he became one of the few people in that inner circle who could ask me anything and receive a completely honest answer.

“I haven’t really figured out this gay thing yet, you know?” I said as we finished our dinner. I want to have everything, but know that I can’t. It’s not often you run into somebody like you.”

“That’s very true. Especially here. That’s part of the reason I’m leaving.”

My jaw dropped (figuratively speaking).

“Leaving?”

“I’ve prayed and meditated and this isn’t where I’m supposed to be. I only have a few friends here and I don’t think my major’s working out like I thought it would….”

I slipped into a mild funk of disappointment—frustrated in part that I could get worked up over him so easily and then be let down just as easily.

I think he sensed that as the waitress asked about the check: “Together or separate?”

“Separate,” he said without any of the ritual, gay-date hesitation.

We were just friends.

In consolation, though, Hunter offered a bit of advice as he walked me to my car: “I’m sorry we didn’t get to hang out more. You’re even cooler and cuter than I’d thought. I’m only saying this because it’s helped me, but I think it would be a good idea for you to try using the internet to find guys. Not one of those skanky, hookup sites. Something honest and open and rated PG-13.”

I was a little dumbfounded. It was as if I had failed at dating. That’s what desperate, horny guys use. Was I that desperate and out-of-control? Coming from anybody but him—someone with values and integrity—I would have been offended, but he meant everything he said and cared for everyone he knew, so I took the plunge.

End, Part 1.