All American Dinner

Recently, a guy I’ve been dating teased me about being white, so I’ve been in “What White People Like” mode. We jokingly came up with tater tot casserole, so the first chance I got I made it, and that was for a very special gathering involving Emily, Jacqueline, Bronson, and Cheryl—who had some wonderful news. Those of you who know the couple should ask them….

The night was a success, and those of you who did not attend really missed out on conversation, Carol Burnette clips, and this:

Below are some photos from the preparation of the Duggar Family Recipe (halved of course to feed about six adults).

DUGGAR's TATER TOT CASSEROLE
2 lb ground turkey cooked, seasoned, drained
3 2lb bags tater tots
2 cans cream of mushroom
2 cans evaporated milk
2 cans cream of chicken
Brown meat & place in large cass. dish.
Cover with tater tots. Mix soup & milk together.
Pour over top. Bake at 350 for 1 Hour.
(One of Daddy’s Favorites!) Makes 2- 9”X13” pans

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Some random notes on the recipe:

I substituted everything I could for low fat, and it turned out a little bland. We decided that what’s lacking are vegetables and spices, so we did a little experimentation. It’s really good with peas. I’d also consider broccoli.

My ex, Mark the Missionary, was fascinated by these shows, esp. John and Kate Plus Eight, so memories of our discussions there popped up as I bought the ingredients.

An Adventure with Emily

I’m off today to Holi with Emily. It should be great. See you there around 4pm. For those of you who don’t know what Holi (The Festival of Colors) is like, here’s a video:

Maybe I’ll see you there.

I’m Not That Boy, Part 9

A conclusion is finally here.

Warning: This post contains some adult content.

Calando

“I really wanted that one to work out!” Cole said, turning to me as he drove us home from an evening at the symphony.

It was months after the whole thing had played out with Ianto and Derek, and I was finally getting his take on the story. Although we share a lot, Cole made an effort to distance himself emotionally from the possibilities there. After things had played out, though, he felt more comfortable sharing his feelings about what had happened.

“I suppose it was nothing more than wanting to see two good friends happy and it seemed like a good fit to me,” he continued.

“I know what you mean. I really wanted it to work out.”

***

If there was one lesson I needed to learn at that moment, it’s very possible that lesson might have been letting someone off gently. In a sort of cosmic way, Ianto did for me that night what I couldn’t do for Anderson the month prior. Rather than avoiding the situation somehow hoping it would disappear, he was completely honest with me on that final date.

Following our last, awkward kiss, he cleared his throat and it was apparent something was up.

“Um… we’ve got to talk.”

Every part of me knew what was coming, though I put on a brave face hoping to at least come off a little surprised.

“Guys like you don’t come along very often, but as you know, I’ve been seeing this other guy, and well…, I just feel like I need to see where things go with him right now.”

It was as if I’d cut my finger with a knife. I’d opened myself up for hurt, but when I thought about it, when I examined the supposed wound, I found no blood, no mark, no scar. “Just this once, everybody lives!” Nobody gets hurt! I thought.

Sure, I was disappointed, but I coped (in the lightest sense of the word) with the disappointment as I always had: by focusing on the positive. I didn’t really have to make a decision between Derek and Ianto because Ianto had done that for me.

***

In speaking about Ianto with Cole, the inevitable comparison returned to mind. They were so different from one another. Ianto was stable and intelligent while Derek was more adventurous and dramatic.

After a bit of silence, he finally brought it up after several months of wondering. “Derek?! Really, GMB? Why were you ever interested in Derek?”

“He was just fun. He was something different,” I rationalized with a bitter-sweetness in my voice.

Knowing exactly what was going through my head, Cole asserted, “He is something different alright….”

***

Following that last date with Ianto, all of those dreams for the future were simply displaced. Like water swelling up from the ground, they naturally had to flow somewhere.

I didn’t have a care in the world. Anxiety and fear were the last things on my mind as I met Derek for dinner that night. I didn’t really have any choices to make. Nothing to hide or be uncomfortable about.

We simply went out to dinner and then I showed him around campus. With everyone on break, the place was practically empty. We started in my office.

“Yes, this is where I work.”

“And that’s your desk,” he said, walking towards the desk I’d gestured towards.

“Right. This one’s mine,” I said as I cut him off on his way.

“So…” he paused. “What if I were to do this?” He pushed a stack of papers on the floor. “Or this?” he asked, pushing me up against the desk and sitting me atop it.

My heart raced as he entertained my forbidden workplace fantasies. Minutes had slipped by and I realized it was really happening.

“No. I’d get fired. If my boss [a brilliantly liberal, open-minded woman] came in right now, she might cheer, but I’d also get canned.”

“Okay,” he said removing his hands from the back of my jeans and turning away to button the top half of his shirt

***

“You know exactly what was so appealing about Derek, Cole.”

He looked over and smirked in that I-could-have-told-you-so kind of way.

“He was nothing like anybody I’d ever dated before.”

“That’s right, GMB. We were always in the same page on that sense….And poor Anderson.”

“Everybody has to date a rebel of sorts. He was my James Dean, my Danny Zuko.”

“I don’t need to call you on how gay that reference was. Do I?”

“Alright, I do regret what happened, but I still learned something. There’s no sense in being bitter about the past when we can’t change it.”

As much as that was true, we knew that what had happened was significant because he didn’t find out from me.

***

That night with Derek quickly evolved into a series of subversively adventurous make out sessions. In the course of a few hours that warm January night, we moved from my office to the bushes outside.

The thrill that somebody might catch us heightened every sense. Each sound we made was carefully muffled as we paid attention to the world around us and each sound we heard was followed by a breathless pause.

We migrated our way between buildings, ducking into darkened bathrooms or classrooms whenever we heard the sound of footsteps.

“In here,” he said, holding the door of a tiny room open for me. “I hear someone.”

The faint smell of foreign chemicals thickened the air. He placed his forehead against mine then we paused for a moment to listen for the sound of footsteps, but there was silence. Our eyes adjusting to the darkness once again, I realized we were in a darkroom surrounded by hanging photos developing around us.

He pushed me against the counter next to the sink. My heart raced as quickly as it ever had as he moved his 6’3” frame against me. He lifted me up with his firm hands without breaking the seal of our kiss and sat me upon the counter. His left arm moved farther around my waist as he pulled me towards him. Slowly, he pulled his right arm around in perfect symmetry, until suddenly the motion broke and his hand migrated down and rubbed. Then, in a singular motion, he unbuckled my belt and released the top button of my pants.

I exhaled.

For the first time, the impulse to say “Wait” or “No” or “Stop” did not win out. The rhythm was entrancing and gratifying—more so as he peeled through each layer until I felt the sensation of skin against skin. Guiding my hand, he invited me to do the same.

I was speechless and lost in the moment.

My left arm extended and on his shoulder, I sensed him motioning to stoop down when I finally said, “Okay. We need to stop.”

***

After Cole dropped me off at my car, I considered the situation a bit more. Derek was never right for me. He was shallow and wanted in my pants. After that victory, he quickly shared the story of his conquest with everyone he knew (including Cole and a very deceived Anderson) and found an excuse to move on.

Cole knew exactly why I would keep something like this from him. In my eight months of dating, I’d found the perfect balance. I could be gay and Mormon. I could date and be happy so long as it never went beyond kissing. So long as that moment in the darkroom never happened with Derek, that tenuous balance still existed, or, at the very least, I had time to re-conceive that balance in my existential crisis.

Did I really want the celibate life I’d consigned myself to? Or was there something to those feelings I’d finally let myself experience? Was I never meant to experience the range of emotions and sensations I’d been bestowed with simply because those feelings could never be inspired in me by a woman?

I couldn’t bring myself to tell Cole mostly because, as my fears later confirmed, he was right. Despite my excellent planning skills, my ambition, and my emotional composure, I could not have everything I wanted from life. I began to understand why he was so angry following his broken engagement two years earlier—although the trauma of his situation was enhanced by the fact that in his situation he could not please himself or his fiancé in the manner he’d been taught his entire life.

Now that he’d found out about that one night, we connected on a much deeper level even though it we’ve never discussed that night or the spiritual repercussions in the detail presented here. As I considered these consequences and lessons Derek had taught me, I had an ally on my side who not only understood my feelings, but would support whatever decisions lay ahead for me.

End of Series.

"Press Forward"

A Gay Mormon Missionary Story: August 2004

To think that in four months, I’d be in another country learning another language was mind boggling. That’s just how those months were spent after receiving a missionary call to spend two years as a Mormon missionary in Brazil.

It wasn’t exactly customary to wait four months to leave for missionary training, but I made the most of that wait. I continued to work full-time as one-by-one I watched my guy friends disappear around me as they went on missions around the world. It was somewhat difficult to watch Cole, Nate, Payton, and Bronson all go off to different corners of the globe and be left behind.

In that time, I spent a bit more time with Emily, Jacqueline, Glenda, and Jeannie. Those days were spent going to the movies, hanging out, playing board games, and living out life as we had in high school. As I look back, it’s apparent we were all bracing ourselves for that leap over that canyon of awkwardness into adult life.

Every interaction with them and with my family was asterisked with the thought I won’t see any of these people for two years. What will time bring to us?

When the day finally came for me to say my goodbyes and address my congregation. Family and friends gathered for this one final and ceremonious pre-mission event. As is customary, I spoke in church about the adventure ahead of me.

“The topic is service,” by Bishop told me over the phone weeks before the big day. “Do you think you’ll have any problem speaking about that?”

“Not at all.” How could you turn down such a benign, agreeable topic?

Looking out from the podium that morning was a survey of my life I’ll never relive. An audience populated with Sunday and elementary school teachers, relatives who have since passed away, and friends who are now thousands of miles away living out their dreams. Whether there out of friendship, love, or familial obligation, their faces all gleamed with support as I went through this rite of passage.

I hesitated for a moment, tapping the microphone and removing my thick glasses smeared and stained by my acned face. In those days (perhaps my shyest and most innocent), it was difficult to look even the people I most cared for in the eyes, so I elected to blur their faces to make the process easier.

“Brothers and Sisters—

“Thank you for your time today. I’ve been asked to speak about service today and I’d like to start with the words of prophet and King Benjamin who offered a sermon to his kingdom in Mosiah Chapter 2:

“ ‘16 Behold, I say unto you that because I said unto you that I had spent my days in your service, I do not desire to boast, for I have only been in the service of God.

“ ‘17 And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.’

“We’ve all heard these words and in some cases memorized them, but really, how do we show love and concern for each other? We must focus on what connects us all. We are all equals—brothers and sisters as I addressed you at the beginning of this talk. Does this not mean that we must treat others as we’d like to be treated?

“For this reason, we must focus on that connection and understand one another as we are all tied together by one creator much as Benjamin bound his people together.

“ ‘18 Behold, ye have called me your king; and if I, whom ye call your king, do labor to serve you, then ought not ye to labor to serve one another?

“ ‘19 And behold also, if I, whom ye call your king, who has spent his days in your service, and yet has been in the service of God, do merit any thanks from you, O how you ought to thank your heavenly King!

“ ‘20 I say unto you, my brethren, that if you should render all the thanks and praise which your whole soul has power to possess, to that God who has created you, and has kept and preserved you, and has caused that ye should rejoice, and has granted that ye should live in peace one with another—’ ”

I weaved in accounts of service from my friends eagle scout projects, the patient guidance of my parents, and the examples of my ancestors before one last scripture and turning to the future in front of me:

“ ‘21 I say unto you that if ye should serve him who has created you from the beginning, and is preserving you from day to day, by lending you breath, that ye may live and move and do according to your own will, and even supporting you from one moment to another—I say, if ye should serve him with all your whole souls yet ye would be unprofitable servants.’

“Essentially, if we are to serve others, we are to serve God and prepare ourselves,” I said in the most honest and humble, pressing through my insecurities. “I can think of no better way at this point in my life than to serve. There is plenty wrong in the world and I’m certain that I can make a difference in Brazil. That said, I think that I’ll have more to gain and learn from this experience than I could ever comprehend.”

I closed and put my glasses back on to examine those gleaming faces as they offered a reverent, resounding “Amen” in near unison. This was quickly followed by the hymn “Called to Serve”(#249):

Called to serve Him,
Heavenly King of glory,
Chosen e'er to witness for His name.
Far and wide, we tell the Father's story
Far and wide, His love proclaim.

Onward, ever onward, as we glory in His name;
Onward, ever onward, as we glory in His name;
Forward, pressing forward, as a triumph song we sing.
God our strength will be; Press forward ever
Called to serve our King!

Moments later, we gathered at my parents house. Every culture has its feasts and in Mormon culture mission farewells are one of those occasions. Everyone was there—from my grandparents to the newest of my cousins and my dearest female friends—enjoying a picnic in my backyard.

This is how I would leave them and remember them for the next two years—eating, laughing, and reminiscing.

“Men Are Like Waffles, Women Are Like Pancakes.”

I return for a couple of posts to my awkward, chubby, pre-mission days.

Whenever I come across the word ‘whimsical’ in conversation, my friend Jamie immediately comes to mind. She might not have been the type to go on adventures or make totally random observations; her ‘whimsy’ was more intellectual. In every sense of the word, she is an artist and a thinker. Often, she would share with us her observations on life, the universe, and everything.

Recently, I’ve decided that the reason our friendship and that of a few other girls has had such an impact on me is that she was in a way the sister I never had. To a harmless extent, I envied the relationship she had with her own sister, Jeannie. Close in age (unlike me and my brothers) they have amazing ties to one another’s lives wherever they are in the world.

Jamie offered the guidance, cheer, experience, and concern for all of her close friends. This even continued to be the case after she found the man of her dreams and did not disappear into the ‘Married Twilight Zone.’

Before all of that, though, she had her dating adventures like the rest of us and being two years the senior to me, Cole, and Bronson, she’d often share her pearls of wisdom.

The four of us were chatting on our way to the parking lot. It was a school night and our beds and homework demanded a return at a reasonable hour.

Following Cole’s understated shouts of “That was amazing!” and Bronson’s gasps of “Oh my gosh!,” we sat down for a bit as we moved on to other topics.

College had drawn us apart slightly as far as time commitments; however, we were as close as ever in that time suddenly mattered more in the economy of our lives. Whenever, we found ourselves together, we found ourselves procrastinating and finding excuses to enjoy one another’s company as we caught up on each others lives or share our recent observations.

The most memorable discussion of the night follows:

“You know, I’ve discovered something recently. Men are like waffles and women are like pancakes.”

We all went silent for a moment as she allowed us to stretch our abstract thought muscles and make the connection ourselves.

“Here’s the thing. Men compartmentalize. You tend to think about one thing at a time. A then B then C and so on. Things get done.”

The silence continued as the observation seemed more bizarre than profound at that point.

“When you pour syrup on waffles, squares fill up one at a time.”

“Ahhh…,” I and Cole sighed in understanding.

“And Women,” he continued hesitantly. “Women are like pancakes because...?”

“…because when you pour syrup on them, it goes WHOOSH!—everywhere. It’s one big, beautiful, delicious mess. Everything is connected and everyone affected.”

It was practical advice for understanding people, and has helped me understand that people work within this spectrum (though not through these gender-bound generalizations). As I gained my footing in Gay World, I realized that a healthy balance of the two was necessary to remain sane. I couldn’t be a slave to my emotions nor to my drive or ambitions and it became necessary to recognize that certain guys—about to enter my life—would fall on either end of this spectrum.

A (Very) Brief Heterosexual Dating History, Bachelorette #2

Chastity

Height: 5’5”
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Talent: Concert piano
Random Fact: My grandparents lived just a mile from her family (in the same ward) and openly voiced their approval of us going on a date.

The Date:

With my dating cherry popped, it didn’t take long before my friends attempted finagled another date.

Glenda was the first one to broach the topic:

“I don’t want things to get too serious with Arthur, so if he asks me out, I’m going to tell him that you beat him to it.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Glenda and Arthur were both friends and I had no intention of getting caught up in the drama of a budding relationship, so I politely declined. As I later found out (like you will later this week), I should have taken that as a sign or sorts. (Oh, the drama of high school!).

As it turns out, Arthur was doing some scheming of his own. Not only was he planning on asking Glenda to prom. He and Nate were planning the perfect group date to woo their respective love interests.

Late one night, I had an intervention of sorts. Nate called me up and said I had to come over immediately. Constantly working on projects, this was a typical call; however, upon my arrival, I noticed that Bronson and Arthur were already there.

“GMB,” Nate said, “we’ve decided you’re going to prom.”

“Um… and when did you decide this?” I asked coyly.

“About five minutes before we called,” Bronson chimed in.

“I’m going with Chenese, Arthur’s asking out Glenda, and Bronson’s waiting to hear back from Cami. That leaves you,” Nate said.

After a few suggestions were thrown out (eliminating everyone who was already asked out, had a boyfriend, or was difficult to handle in dose’s of 6-8 hours), we decided that I was going with Chastity.

Also in my music theory class, she was the girl everyone liked, although she wasn’t necessarily popular. It might have been because she wasn’t involved in a lot of extracurricular activities or because she was just humble or perhaps because she was the shortest girl in our grade.

Although it took an hour to decide on Chastity, that was the easy part of the night. As is Utah custom, we had to conjure an elaborate way to ask her.

“I have this gag gift my grandma got me for my birthday,” Nate said, pulling out a cardboard box full of paper clips.

Suddenly a plan was hatched in three phases:

1. Bronson and Arthur spent the rest of the night constructing a mile-long paperclip chain.
2. Nate and I rewrote songs to include Chastity’s name and relate to the prom somehow. (It was bad. “Hey Jude” became “Hey Chastity”). We then recorded the songs onto a CD.
3. We tied one end of the chain to her front door with a note and made a long, windy trail to the CD hidden in a tree in her back yard.

Despite a few hitches, the plan all worked out and she answered days later hanging paperclip chains from the tree in my front yard holding up papers with “YES!” written on them.

Per Utah ritual, the date lasted most of the day, beginning with a game of extreme croquet in the park and a fine dinner at a local restaurant.

The dance itself was one of the my most memorable high school experiences. I wasn’t in control of the situation at all, but I had people I could depend on. Chastity made it very clear from the second I saw her in that pink prom dress that her only goal was to have fun, so I had no expectations to hold to because that’s one thing I knew how to do with Arthur, Bronson, and Nate at my side.

We danced the night away. I made all the wrong steps, laughed at myself, and spent the night not caring. Apparently, the advice from my first date—not to worry—had sunk in. To this day, I remember vividly, doing the chicken dance with Chastity and Sister Imus, my seminary teacher, and taking down decorations afterwards.

After dropping off our dates, Nate and I had a nice conversation:

“Thanks for coming. I know we didn’t give you a choice, but I know we had a better time because you joined us.”

“I’m glad I did.”

“I know it’s really not your thing, so don’t feel obligated to do it again. It’s just the way I wanted to remember prom. Is that selfish?”

“No. It can’t be because I had fun and so did Chastity. We’re all better off because of it.”

“Good. Do you think you’ll do it again soon?”

“Not really. It’s a lot of work.”

And with that, I left the dating world for nearly four years.

The Lesson: With friends, any experience whether good, bad, or indifferent will become a better, more meaningful one.

End, Part 2

AfterMARK, Part 2

It’s not complicated, but it’s getting there fast

There we were on the couch.  He’d invited me over to watch movies at his place.  When I got there, an interesting smell was in the air. 

I’ve always considered Jack an interesting person.  A conglomerate of characteristics I wouldn’t necessarily put together.  As I mentioned, he was sarcastic but sweet.  His talents were equally diverse; he could tell me the what macros were on computers and explain the best way to prepare chocolate mousse.

Which brings me back to the story at hand.  The warm and creamy aroma of cheesecake.   My weakness had taken wing and waited on the coffee table in front of the television.  His roommate and the neighbors all came over for a piece, but left us to the sofa alone as our movie began.  It was clear he’d put a lot of effort into the night.

Jack’s interest in foreign film intrigued me (as did his wits for technology and cooking) and he offered to share with me his collection of French language (Francophone) films with me.  His eyes lit up as he explained to me the plot.  It was the first time he’d ever looked at me so directly in the eye.

“Imagine say a tiny mining town in Utah—there’s one industry and it drives the whole town.  Move that town with all of its odd people and stories to Quebec and make it a fishing village.  The industry begins to fail, so they decide to trick a doctor into moving to the village in order to be considered for new development and jobs.”

I raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

“You don’t look convinced.  They do all sorts of wacky things like tap his phone to find out his favorite sports, teams, foods, etc. so that they can provide him the perfect place.”

“Now that sounds funny.”

Alone, the lights dimmed, the curtains pulled, we began to watch the movie (Seducing Dr. Lewis). 

Not-so-suddenly, the game had begun.  The is he/will he/ should he game.  We were friends.  But could we be anything more than friends?

An inch at a time, he made his way across the couch to me.  Is this really happening? I asked myself.  What should I do?  Am I even into him? Was liking all of those things about him—his love of foreign film, fine cuisine, technology, and wit—the same as liking Jack?

In an instant, I left behind a few of my countless inhibitions and returned the signals, opening my palm to his.  He took it and he drew closer.  

We spent the night cuddling and left it at that.   I talked about how wonderful Canada was in real life and how I felt like life was turning around for me.  He talked about his accepting family and their trials, and the recent romantic disappointment he'd had with his roommate.  We left it at that.  A good night.  A good movie.  And a good conversation.  No goodnight kiss.  Nothing I wasn’t ready for….or so I thought.

Waking up the next morning, I panicked as if I’d done something on a drunken whim. 

End, Part 2.

Clue: The title of the series falls under the category of reference.  Pay attention to the capitalization.

The S Word, Part 3

Moving Past the “Why?”

Dwelling on this “Why?” Question in regards to suicide can lead to blame, anger, and further destruction, so we must move on to more constructive thinking. Whenever I work with students on their writing, one of the biggest hurdles they face is answering the “So What?” Question—the purpose of the discussion.

In writing this series, the question “Why is it important to understand why someone would commit suicide?” is implied. The answer is that an empowering WE CAN make a difference in someone’s life if we’re prepared (and, of course, they accept the help we offer).

Both Tanner and Craig felt that they would be better off without the world and perhaps that the world might be better off without them. The most logical ways to prevent a suicide is to make sure that everyone, especially those at greater risk, 1) feel like their existence is somehow appreciated and 2) that their problems are manageable if not surmountable.

One Brief Glimpse

It’s not often that I bring up events of the present but I think it’s important in this case to assess how I handled a related situation.

“So… I hear you warned Stuart about me?”

A chat bubble had appeared unexpectedly. It was a GMB I’d met once and found unstable. I had indeed warned my friend about this instability and some unsafe behavior.

“So…why do all of you guys cover your asses instead of letting people make opinions for themselves?”

I explained to him why I’d said what he had and felt completely justified. “You weren’t being safe and I was watching out for him.”

“Well, maybe you should have seen it as a cry for help rather than a chance to gossip. It’s people like you who make me want to kill myself.”

I stopped there for a moment. In part it was a reaction in the vein of You did not just say that!, but clearly he had and was not joking. I thought I’d done the right thing, yet I’d effectively hurt someone enough for suicide to be an issue?

“You want to kill yourself sometimes? Have you talked to someone about it? Does your family know?” I responded with a barrage of questions.

He assured me he was seeing an LDS Family Services therapist and that he was doing better. I offered him the number of the therapist on campus (who I’d never went to following a traumatic flashback to my mission).

“My family knows, but they don’t do anything,” he said bitterly. “You of all people should know what I’m going through, but you just act like you’re perfect.”

“I’m not. No one is.”

“You should have been there for me. That behavior was a cry for help. You should have called me on it, but you just let it all happen,” he jabbed as I wondered how much I was to blame for any of this.

I don’t think that either of us was 100% culpable. That said, I’ve assessed the situation and drawn the following conculsions:

Good:
Showing concern
Asking what help he’d received and who knew

Bad:
Not calling him on dangerous behavior
Not taking advantage of resources for my own mental health

So here’s the plan of action:
I’ll check up on him regularly. have long talks about the Gay Mormon Dilemma, share my experiences with depression, call him on risky behavior, and most importantly be his friend.

Remember:

This is a real problem with real lives at stake. In the past six months I’ve heard numerous stories from Gay Mormon Boys upset at the lives they can and cannot live:

• A missionary telling himself that he’d rather jump in front of a bus than spend one more day in the mission.
• Beloved Boyd who attempted to kill himself to escape the choice between sexuality and religion.
• Two students at the Y admitting to continual repression of suicidal thought and behavior as they repress sexual tendencies.
• A friend disappointed that his sexuality was not fixed by prayer and a mission attempting suicide weeks before his scheduled return date.
• (for related discussion, follow this link).

There are resources out there for those contemplating suicide and those who are trying to help someone avoid that decision:

• Free counseling on many college campuses.
• The National Suicide Prevention Hotline
• The Trevor Project
• Continual love and support of friends and family

End of series.

The S Word, Part 2

Making Sense of the Senseless

Recently, I’ve decided that two key factors kept me from fathoming why someone would commit suicide.

The first is that I simply didn’t understand life. While I had gone out teaching about life and the Plan of Happiness for two years, I knew deep down that I really didn’t grasp some very important aspects like how I was going to get married and have a family when sex and intimacy seemed completely unappealing.

Upon meeting Grey and forming a relationship with Mark, life itself became understandable. I was different and there was a reason for so many awkward situations and conversations that had come to pass.

The second factor was branching out and meeting people that were not part of Utah’s bubble world. This was easy as a college student. International, intellectual, and GLBT friends showed me that there really are more questions than answers in this life. No one can profess to completely understand another person.

I’ve learned about suicide and abuse from people who have faced it first-hand, and realized that these problems are so prevalent in society through movies and works of literature such as Prayers for Bobby, Latter Days, and Facing East.

Essentially, we are put in a state of cognitive dissonance. Part of us is aligned with Church teachings while the other half stands (whether it be in action or existence) in opposition to that ideal. We all have different methods of resolving this conflict (as I discussed in Walking the Fence) and unsafe behaviors such as suicide result because they seem like the best option.

Another Death in the Family

It was Saturday night and one of my last nights at my parents’ house before moving out. The phone rang.

“Hi, grandma. How are you?”

“I’m good. Is your father home?”

“He’s at a court of honor. Might I give him a message?”

“Tell him Craig’s shot himself and to come over as soon as he can.”

Grandma was always one for keeping her cool. The worry and grief in her voice were imperceptible.

I sent my father on his way, shocked that another cousin, seemingly a happy family man with a wife and two-week old daughter, would take his own life. The family had gathered at her house to grieve.

Four days later, we sat at the funeral. I will never forget the words of Tanner and Craig’s fathers. Both of them described in uncomfortable detail an uneasy trek up stairs to learn about their respective sons’ last act.

Tanner’s father found a letter neatly sealed on the kitchen counter. He read it aloud to Tanner’s widow in the kitchen holding her as they sat together at the kitchen table. The depression he’d fought for years became unbearable. Expressing his love, his doubts, and regrets, he said his final goodbye.

Approaching the pulpit, Craig’s father kept his composure. “Every step I took, I hoped I would hear some sign of life, of my son’s love as I went up those stairs. Each step grew darker and more silent.”

His voice cracked, tearing a gap in the dam holding back the tears. “My ears were first to tell me something was wrong. Then my nose. I could tell he was not there anymore and I saw him—No!—his body lying there.”

The silence was labored as no one wanted to hear even the barest of accounts.

Speaking for himself and Tanner’s father, he said, “After what they put us through, forgiving them has been the hardest thing either of us have ever or will ever have to do. We still love them and they are missed.”

From then on, it became an issue at the back of my mind. I didn’t ever want to hear another story like that. Of the depressed father, of the rejected Gay Mormon son or daughter, or the person nobody thought had a care in the world.

End, Part 2.

The Family Stone and My Christmas Movie Lineup

Last night, me and my friends had a little Christmas celebration.  A little shopping with Jacqueline and Cole, we set out to make an amazing Chicken Posole.  (More on that Sunday). 

This Christmas season has been a busy one.  As I’ve committed myself to a social life, a dating life, a work life, rehearsals, and the goal to write every day, I’ve found myself with no time to sit back and relax with any Christmas movies.  That was until last night. 

After dinner, Serenity and Emily joined us as we watched The Family Stone.  It was the first time we’d all been together in far too long.  We crowded into my room and gathered round the television.  As Jacqueline worked on Serenity’s nails, Cole, Emily, and I plopped down on my bed and got comfortable. 

(No platonic cuddling was involved.  We’re just not cool with that). 

Being the one Christmas movie I’d decidedly set a goal to see this year, I had some pretty high expectations and the film delivered.  It immediately struck me as something authentic.  None of the characters seemed over the top.  Their decisions, though sometimes impulsive, make sense.  And finally, the relationships between the characters help us understand them and why they are each the individuals that they are.

Here are 5 great scenes:

1. Playing Charades

Sarah Jessica Parker’s character, Meredith finds herself humiliated in front of her potential future family with an impossible charades clue. 

Everyone needs to be initiated with embarrassment.  That’s the case with my group of friends.  Each one of us has at least one. 

2. Making Dinner

Feeling the outsider, conservative Meredith finally connects with someone—Brian, her potential brother-in-law’s partner.  Brian’s one of the only outsiders who’s managed to make it into the stone family.  At one time or another, we’ve all been an outsider.  It’s truly tender when he recognizes that and offers his help.

3. Nature vs. Nurture

Meredith upsets her boyfriend’s mother Sybil when she asks why any parent would want a gay child.

Meredith (following five minutes rambling on the subject and rising tension in the room) says. “I just think any parent would want a normal child.”

“Goddammit!” Sybil shouts to stop her from hurting everyone more.

Everyone is important.  Everyone has challenges.  And parents love their children regardless of what those challenges might be.

4. The Present

Thoughtful gifts can bring people together.  This photo of Sybil comes to symbolize the Stone’s love for each other.

5. The Ending

As Cole pointed out (in the fashion of Jeremy Denk), the last scene’s soundtrack is elegantly simple.  Three notes are repeated over and over again as it becomes clear that people are what bring families together and that unconditional love is what provides us the only reliable foundation for the future. 

 

Merry Christmas!

 

 

Here are a few of my other Christmas favorites:

Love Actually
A Christmas Story
It’s a Wonderful Life
Muppet Christmas Carol
Home Alone (I prefer the second)
White Christmas
Holiday Inn

My Christmas Reading List

One of my favorite Christmas memories took place just a few years ago. It was a snowy night and we found ourselves at Cole’s place for a holiday party.

After a night of games and treats, we sat in his living room taking a breather. We sat around and looked at each other debating what we should do when Cole stood up and grabbed a basket between the television stand and the fireplace.

“Who wants to hear a story?” Cole asked, pulling a book from the basket.

None of us were quite sure what to make of the question. All of us were high school graduates and some of us college graduates, so the concept of Cole reading us a story seemed slightly foreign. In an instant, though, we’d warmed to the idea of being kids again and he started reading.

We sat there as he read to us Red Ranger Came Calling which details the story of a boy calling himself “The Red Ranger of Mars.” It’s not your same old rehashed imagery or story. It appeals to even the cynics who have a hard time getting into the holidays. That night through the amazing illustrations and lively conversations, we learned that “Sometimes folks need something to believe in” and “Sometimes folks need someone to believe in them.”

Sometimes we do need to take a step back and think like kids again.

In the holiday spirit, I have collected some of my favorite kids Christmas books:

1. How The Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss

Standard holiday fare. We all know the story and have it engrained in our minds by the Boris Karloff-narrated, Chuck Jones-animated version of the story. It’s a classic, so I’ll leave it at that. (No comment on the movie adaptation…).

2. 'Twas The Night Before Christmas

Again, not much in the way of originality here. It’s a classic story we all know. A poem approaching it’s bicentennial, it was originally written by Henry Livingston, Jr. and later revised by Clemente Clarke Moore. There are plenty of interesting and original takes and illustrations on the story out there. Take a look. I've been told the Tasha Tudor-illustrated version is a good one.

3. The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg

I remember this one always flying off the shelves in the elementary school library. Everybody wanted to take it home so their parents could read it to them. Probably appealing for its illustrations and the concept, which some train companies actually copy.

4. A Wish for Wings That Work by Berke Breathed

Breathed also penned and illustrated the aforementioned Red Ranger Came Calling as well as the comic strip Bloom County. He has a knack for humoring adults and children alike and getting at some pretty deep stuff just by wowing you with some quick with and a few strokes of the brush.

5. The Twelve Days of Christmas illustrated by Jack Kent

This is a hilarious illustrated representation of the song. It takes the song quite literally and I haven’t seen this book since I was eight years old. It disappeared from the library and I never saw it after my first read. Someday, I will spontaneously buy this book after a bad day.

6. Christmas in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Confession time: I love Laura Ingalls Wilder. Every night I would read a few chapters of one of the Little House books to my mother from the age of seven.

7. You Are Special by Max Lucado

This is just an affirming book that shows that being ourselves is what really matters. I suppose I’ve always associated it with Christmas because it was part of a Sunday School Christmas lesson.

No matter who you are, how you were made (or how you believe you were made), or how people treat you, there are good people out there that love you in this world. There is no greater Christmas lesson than that.

Here are some other suggestions from friends:

Snowmen at Night and Snowmen at Christmas
(Both by Caralyn Buehner and Mark Buehner)

A Child's Christmas in Wales
Dylan Thomas

Merry Christmas, Ernest & Celestine
Gabrielle Vincent

A snowman named just Bob and A snowgirl named just Sue
Mark Kimball Moulton

The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey
Susan Wojciechowski

Santa Claustrophobia
Mike Reiss

Chicken Stroganoff

Again, I had the urge to do something completely different, so I thought I’d share with you one of my favorite recipes (in honor of my Meryl’s Julie and Julia coming out on DVD). I seldom cook a meal more than an hour or so, but for a recent dinner party I held, I decided to go all out, having some friends (Serenity, Cole, Jacqueline, and Matilde) over to my new apartment.

The dish is Latin American and delicious (without being spicy if you’re concerned), but doesn’t stand too well as leftovers.

Here’s what you’ll need to serve 4:

4 chicken breasts cubed
Lime juice
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. mustard
Salt
1/2 cup milk
2 cans table cream
mushrooms (the more the better in my opinion)
Ketchup
Potato sticks
Rice

By the end, it should look something like the picture above but lighter (below are pictures of the process and the results).

Instructions:

1. Wash cubed chicken with lime.
2. Fry with oil until almost ready.
3. Add mustard and salt (more than you think).
4. Mix and fry until golden brown
5. Stir in milk and cream.
6. Heat until boils.
7. Add mushrooms.
8. Add ketchup if color is unpleasant.
9. Serve over rice.
10. For garnish and texture, add potato sticks as desired.

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My First Fruit Fly

Finals approached.

It was time to de-stress and complain to each other about the load we’d taken on for the semester. Slightly infatuated with my friend Toni, I enthusiastically accepted an invitation to met him for lunch one day. I rushed from my office to meet up with him at the food court.

As we sat down, he introduced me to two of his closest friends.

“This is Lena. She’s finishing up her degree in business. And this is my best friend, Lila. She’s studying psychology, so be careful what you say because she might analyze you to dea—”

“Hey!” She interrupted as I shook her hand. She glared at him a little in that just-between-friends manner, which he ignored in the same manner. We all laughed a little and moved on. The conversation turned from complaining about finals and class work to complaints about boys.

I realized at that moment I was discussing my dating life in a public place and not afraid at all.

Everyone discussed their respective drama as Lena jokingly concluded, “All of the good ones are gay. They know how to dress and they’re sensitive. Why do they do this to us?”

To which Lila replied, “Without them, though, we wouldn’t have the other fabulous things in life—shoes, music, Gilmore Girls, Shakespeare, …”

It was pretty obvious at that point that we were going to be great friends. In less than a month, we were hanging out on a weekly basis, sitting on the couch together at parties mocking the drunk people, and exchanging witty comebacks about each other’s dating foibles (just like Rory and Lorelai).

“Away We Go” and/or “Because I Knew You I Have Been Changed for the Better”

Pardon the reference to the overly-used lyrics from the Broadway hit Wicked. It has a lot to do with what I’d like to speak about today. (An aside: Steven Schwartz is a genius, but his other works like Children of Eden deserve far more attention). I feel the need to address some criticism to my writings.

As I watched the movie Away We Go, I thought a lot about the journey I’ve taken with my friends since our sophomore year of high school. We’ve been struck by a fair amount of tragedy and success. We are going places and doing things. We also manage to stay close despite being in the northwest, the south, the East coast, and Utah. Very recently, I came to the realization that I have an amazing and diverse network of friends (on Facebook of all places).

The movie follows Burt (John Krasinski, The Office) and Verona (Maya Rudolph, SNL), on a journey to figure out the life they want to provide their daughter. Along the way, they see plenty of good and bad examples of romantic and parental relationships and resolve to provide their child the life she deserves leaving behind their go-nowhere, dead-end lives. The question that remains is how?

Like the couple in the movie, I have surrounded with a diverse group of people that teach me important life lessons on a regular basis. I learn from them how to love, how to be a better person, and how to treat others with the respect they deserve. This blog has become not only a personal memoir of these life lessons. I consider it a “love letter” to the friends I’ve made in college, high school, as well as through this blog and other experiences.

Friends, thank you again for all of the things you continue to teach me.

From ‘Man Harems’ to ‘Flame Dames’

Continuing in the “Something Completely Different” vein, I’d like to respond to a few of the comments on my list. Space was limited in the harem, so only the top ten was a very selective group.

(Insert trite condescending “we had so much talent this year but limited space” explanation ala American Idol) .

Here are some of the semi-finalists—rounding out the sweet sixteen if you will:

11. and 12. The Heroes

As El Genio and David Baker pointed out, Milo Ventimiglia and Zachary Quinto from Heroes both barely missed the cut (Milo gets slightly more points for being Jess on Gilmore Girls and Zachary gets a few because my first issue of GQ featured him).

13. and 14. The Classic Leading Men

Tony Curtis and Rock Hudson were also in consideration, but I felt I could only choose one old-time suitor. Tony Curtis in Some Like it Hot proved the title an understatement just by being in it (even in drag). Also, any man good enough for argyle is good enough for me.

And no, Cary Grant didn’t make this cut either.

15. and 16. The Tall, soft-Spoken Ones

Zachary Levi of Chuck and John Krasinski of The Office (and the endearing movie Away We Go) also get some nods for my man harem. Lovable yet suave goofs with great hair.

Speaking of ‘Man Harems’…

they already exist, but in a different capacity.

In this world, there’s a group of people I like to refer to as ‘collectors,’ oftentimes they are referred to as ‘Fag Hags’—those lovable women who, for whatever reason, find themselves surrounded by gay men. I’m going to refrain from using that phrase any more in this piece because it’s not flattering to either party—it demeans women and homosexuals. Fortunately, that will allow me to use the synonyms I learned today reading up on the subject (see related Wikipedia page which includes a list of terms in a dozen languages).

This weekend, I was at a birthday party, ended up dropping my friend Liz’s name and immediately another gay man living a hundred (J.R.) miles away knew exactly who I was talking about. We both texted her pretending to be on a blind date to get her reaction. My favorite exchange was the following:

GMB: How is it you know every gay man in Utah?
Liz: I just know the hot ones.
GMB: So true. How do you find them?
Liz: I don’t. You find me!

I don’t think we ever got around to telling her the truth, but she provided the witty banter and commentary we all appreciate. Liz makes for an exemplary ‘fruit fly’ because she doesn’t really seek out the attention or the drama of gay world. She just happens to be the kind of person who loves and supports (notice I did not use the word ‘accept’) everyone.

‘Homo honeys’ don’t necessarily become ‘homo honeys’ out of love and mutual respect. As I said before, they can be created out of an affinity for drama (which, according the Jenna soundbite from 30 Rock, is ‘like gay man Gatorade, it replenishes their electrolytes’), whether that be in a theatrical sense or the more literal one.

Thomas Rogers wrote a great article on the ‘fruit loop’ phenomenon entitled ‘Ladies: I’m not your gay boyfriend’ for salon.com. Rogers brings up a great point that the gay world is much more diverse than most potential ‘fairy godmothers’ consider. The gay world is a lot more like the real world. Not all gay men have a closet full of clothes from Marc Jacobs newest collection. Not all gay men keep up on the newest Brittney Spears headline. Not all gay men are interested in moving between beds like a game of sexual hopscotch.

Emily and I have a dear relationship in this concern. I might not have the most visible tendencies, but if anything gives me away, it is the way that I dress. For this reason, I am the Will to her Grace, or as we like to see it, Mark and Amanda.

Once in a while, I will receive a text or a picture from her regarding a terrible outfit she saw or we’ll sit down and snarkily people watch in the book store or library. “My, those red shorts and green top make him look like a scrawny Christmas tree.” “Just because it’s rainbow colored doesn’t mean it goes with every color!” Etc.

It might not be the most honorable thing to do, but when it comes down to it, we’re just playing a kid’s game of pretend. We’re not actually judging people; we’re making fun of the stereotypical ‘fag hag’ and flamer we could be and the ignorant people who put us in those boxes.