Why Does Maggie Gallagher Head NOM?

As many of you are aware, one of my mortal enemies is the head of a somewhat significant anti-gay organization. Maggie heads the National Organization for Marriage (also referred to as NOM). She may not have brains or looks, but she does have a zombie army of followers bent on the prevention of equality for LGBT citizens.

Well, in thinking about the organization’s acronym, NOM, I discovered something recently. We now turn to Sesame Street for this lesson:

This all boils down to a childish form of gluttony. Cookie monster may like to chomp down on his cookies, but he had to learn to share. He even enjoyed sharing in the end. In a simplistic way, all these people need to do is learn to share the joys of marriage. It’s not like there’s a pressing need to gobble it all up for themselves, despite any impression Maggie might give otherwise.

Thanks to my bf Chedner for that last photo. Photoshop is amazing.

I Now Pronounce Thee…, Final Part

Exposed

Unquestionably, the time that we are most vulnerable in life is when we are in love. It is a composite of all of the most difficult aspects of life: trust, sacrifice, charity, etc. It is a process of exposing the most intimate parts of us

It is so difficult because we depend upon another flawed person to satisfy and reciprocate our desires, our needs, and our doubts. And, as love is a two-way street, so many barriers keep us from what we desire most on a carnal, spiritual, and intellectual level—a meaningful and enduring connection with another person. "Does he love me back?" "Are we going too fast?" "Am I being too open?" …

Truly, love is a confusing, emotional roller coaster ride (to use a convenient cliché of a metaphor):

This confusion makes love entertaining:

Romantic comedies are formulaic really (see this entertaining link). Generally, there is some sort of love triangle. A loves B and B loves C. B and A have a major fight. B questions relationships with A and C (often based upon society's expectations). B and A decide to be together in the end. We all enjoy the journey they take us through and the idea that love endures and conquers so long as one has wit, charm, and tenacity.

This confusion makes love devastating:

For every comedy, there is a tragedy. A, B, or C may die (or become unattainable due to some life-changing revelation), leaving the others to wonder what life might have been like with him/her in their lives. All of those emotional investments linger months or years or decades and leave. Left to wonder "Why?," we must rebound from hurt, forgive when necessary, and move on.

BUT, in the end, this confusion makes love rewarding:

The pleasure and the pain of romance, in the end, even each other out. So long as we learn from our trials, taking care not to make the same mistakes multiple times, we will come out of romance smarter and emotionally satisfied. Despite all of the questions we might have had regarding why we put ourselves on the line for love, in the end things often work out for the best. And—only then—do we realize why it was so hard to find the one that we love and to look out of the window of the little house with the picket fence.

Entertaining, Devastating, Rewarding:

The moment Bronson introduced to Annie, something didn't feel quite right. Pre-dating the personal revelation regarding my sexuality (by a matter of weeks really), I was clueless about relationships in general, but still a certain perceptible 'incongruence' became apparent between the couple.

We had scooted a pair of tables together at a venue chosen by Bronson, who had courageously taken the step of introducing us to his (almost-) girlfriend. Everyone there—me, Cole, Bronson, Emily, and Matilde among others—were delighted to meet Annie. She brought to the group a combination of country charm, quick wit, and radiant smile that seemed to click immediately with the core of our group of friends.

The first words out of Cole's mouth were "You're really pretty." It just so happens that the second and third sets of words out of his mouth were also "You're so pretty." Perhaps this was because he thought her out of Bronson's league or something along those lines, but we were happy to meet her all the same. She laughed at all of the right jokes and caught onto our expressions and gestures immediately. Without hesitation, she was immediately invited to join us for a movie night and basically implied that she was now part of a group that had been together since high school.

After the lovebirds left, Matilde made an off-hand comment "If they break up, we have to keep her."

As it turns out, months later, things did not work out between Bronson and Annie. Despite an abundance of sweetness and good intentions, Cole's initial, subtle suggestion that Bronson wasn't the best match was echoed by other friends and family. As marriage became a topic of discussion in their relationship, a different end-result entered the picture: the break-up.

It was hard, but they both remained part of our group, seeing each other on a weekly basis. And despite the awkwardness, things remained civil between Annie and Bronson even as he returned to his ex, Cheryl. (See, it really does boil down to A, B, and C, sometimes). Bronson and Cheryl were soon engaged.

Despite her unwavering confidence that the break-up was the right decision, Annie had certain reservations because he was able to rebound and move on so fast. Any of us in that situation would feel slightly unloved. The easiest conclusion might be that the relationship somehow meant less to Bronson, but that overlooks the fact that the two are simply different people who look at and handle emotions and relationships differently. And that difference—not anger or selfishness or malice—ultimately resulted in hurt.

Then one day she decided to move on. It was not long before she found Drew. As this "D" entered the equation, we saw a new side of Annie. Her smile was brighter, she laughed more, and when Drew said just the right thing, she turned bright red. It was not long before all of our dreams came true.

In what seemed to be the blink of an eye, they were getting married. Months had passed as they were engaged and planned a day they had been anticipating for their entire lives. That was evident from the moment they emerged from the temple holding hands as the cameras captured their glowing faces and glimmering grins.

The couple never reached a visible emotional climax. The happiness continued throughout the wedding dinner and reception, which thankfully remained relatively drama-free. The low-lit reception's starry atmosphere only made the bride and groom more radiant.

Emily, Jacqueline, Cole, and I spent the night chatting with the bride's other dear friends. They were unexpectedly curious for gay men's perspectives on everything from food and fashion to Bronson to…well… nothing I'll mention here.

Midway through the reception, the four friends disappeared to perform our duty as friends of the bride and groom. We went to pick up a few items at the grocery store and make some mischief. String, window paint, plastic cups, condoms… (Oops! There I go mentioning the 'nothing' I said I wouldn't mention).

With seconds to spare, we completed the deed. I drew hearts and wrote incriminating phrases on the windows. Emily fashioned a chain of plastic cups akin to the ones made of tin cans trailing after couples in romantic comedies from the fifties. Jacqueline, and Coleblew up 'balloons' and filled the cab of Drew's giant Chevy pickup truck. Without the keys, however, we were unable to stow an excess of 'balloons' in the door to the gas tank. (I'd like someone to try this and tell me what someone's reaction is at a gas station). We rushed into the reception just in time to see them cutting the cake and bringing the festivities to a close.

Finally, the most anticipated event of the night had arrived. Many a $10,000 America's Funniest Home Video Prize has gone to women fighting over wedding bouquets. Everyone postured for the brawl. All the single ladies hunched over a bit, pointed their elbows slightly outwards, and set their eyes on the prize. Utah weddings, I imagine, are particularly brutal. The bouquet of red roses left the bride's hand and in the most anti-climactic way possible, one of the taller, previously-married women, Angie, snagged it. Miffed, but in the least serious of ways, Jacqueline grabbed the bouquet. (Perhaps there's some sort of underhanded wedding bouquet-fumble rule I've never heard of?) It was to no avail, though. Angie left with the bouquet as Jacqueline teased, "Why is it that the girl with the baby always catches the bouquet?!"

To our surprise, the festivities were not over. The bride and groom had decided to follow the tradition of throwing the wedding garter. As the next set of contestants lined up, the atmosphere was a bit different—more bashful and far less serious. There were four of us: three gay boys (myself, Cole, and a friend of the bride's sister) and a cousin in his tweens. Needless to say, none of us planned on marriage in our foreseeable futures. As Drew pulled the red, lacy, beaded garter from Annie's leg, Cole shouted, "Be a man! Use your teeth, Drew!" He blushed a bit, passed a dirty look, and continued as he was—pulling with his hands.

He stood up, stretched the garter, and released. It fell short—in the direction of Cole and me. He wasn't about to get it. I'd worked too hard pursuing romance and facing disappointment after disappointment (not without reward). This was going to be my superstitious consolation prize of sorts. I stuck my right foot forward a ways, performing a relatively low splits maneuver catching the garter just as it touched the cultural hall floor. Getting up, I noticed a strange sensation.

I looked down to see a certain bulge protruding from a foot-long tear in my favorite dress pants (which Cole had dubbed my "ass pants"). My underwear was showing. I took the flap of fabric and pulled it closed concealing what needed to be concealed. I turned to Cole behind me who was wondering why everyone was laughing. Opening up the flaps of fabric to show him what he'd missed, one of the biggest laughs I've ever heard from anyone erupted from my friend (loud enough to bruise his vocal cords for a few days). Finally one of Annie's friends came over, pulled off my jacket and tied it around my waste, shielding my embarrassment for a moment.

Upon their exit, the bride and groom provided us with candidly chagrined responses to our mischief. Plenty of blushing, smiling, and giggling, and of course Annie's flustered "I don't want any kids picking up popped condoms in the parking lot on Sunday morning." In no time, the couple was on their way shouting "Nice undies, GMB!"

Love made a little more sense that night. Drew and Annie were happy despite awkwardness or perhaps as a result of overcoming it. Of course, it's more than a formula because people (and life) cannot be boiled down into a single prediction or outcome, otherwise any person in this world could marry any other person to the same outcome and—really—there is no romance in that idea. That's why the only solution is to take risks, get hurt, and take control of any trials or pain that come our way. That might change us. A piece of us might die in the process, but when it comes down to it, whatever might die or get lost in this process is replaced by something more meaningful to everyone involved in the process whether they be a bride, a groom, a lover, or a friend.

I Now Pronounce Thee…, Part 5

Revealed

Imagine being outed to the girl who wrote you throughout your mission—pushed out of the closet door in but a blink of an eye. A look of terror coming across your face as she looks to see your reaction, pulling away a little asking why didn't you tell me? The pieces pull themselves together in her head—the conversations about the right girl being impossible to find; the intensely deep discussions of literature, theatre, music, and art; the uncanny and undying devotion to sock-shirt color coordination.

Jeannie was the one person aside from my own mother who regularly wrote me on my mission. We were connected on a level I'd never felt with any other girl. We could finish each other's sentences, hold arguments over any number of common interests, and point out minute, unmentionable flaws in each other. In the mission field, I contemplated more than once the idea of coming home and marrying her—the lives that we'd lead, the continued, growing friendship, the intertwining of each and every branch of our life.

These fantasies were spurred by a number of conditions. I was a continent away, reading glory stories of men coming home, getting married, and raising families. I have no idea if her intention was the same as mine, but the poetry we exchanged and the clippings of my favorite comic strip would likely indicate that that's the case.

Needless to say, once I got home from my mission, things did not work out—romantically—between us. We spent more time than ever together. We continued having our late-night discussions, and critique one another's poetry, but something never took. That seed of mutual interests, compatible senses of humor, and everything else never blossomed into a romance. It never even peeked out of the soil.

Upon returning from my mission, things immediately started where we'd left off, but it was only a matter of months before we hit a wall. I was attracted to her in every way but sexually. There was no 'spark' because I didn't even that special feeling, and as a result, we never went on a single date, though the possibility was always implied. One day, when I felt comfortable with it, we were going to go on that first magical date. That date never came, so someone else came along.

As Matt entered her life, we remained friends, but our friendship became more and more dependent on Facebook as we headed in different directions and they started to absorb every free moment in each other's lives as lovers tend to do. Eight months later, they were married in the temple. The reception was beautiful. The wedding colors were white and a very subtle green and Jeannie's bouquet of lilies brought out the often over-looked color in Jeannie's reddish-brown hair. The reception was held a stone's throw away from the bride's house in a town a stone's throw from nowhere.

I arrived at the wedding with Cole and a guest. Although I can't be certain what Jeannie knew or inferred close as we were, that guest was possibly the last piece of the puzzle she needed. I brought Mark. Deep down, I suppose I wanted to show my boyfriend that I wanted to be married someday and that I thought being with him was worth whatever risk bringing him to the wedding entailed. I simply introduced him as a friend who was going on a mission to the northeast soon. (All true). Everyone took it at face value and didn't question why I would bring a random young man to the reception of one of my best friend.

One year later, we all found ourselves at another wedding (with the exception of Mark who was on his mission).

We (and perhaps, at times, Bronson himself) thought the day would never come when he would find his special someone, but then we met Cheryl (a story which deserves a post—nay—a series of its own). They were perfect for each other. Again, it was a beautiful reception in fabulous June weather. Book-ended by two days of rain, it was the perfect temperature. In the bride's back yard, the reception had a cozy feeling. All of my dearest friends sat at the table reminiscing about past weddings and the high school days.

As the wedding came to a close and the line dissipated, one of the bridesmaids flitted over in her lime green and pink dress to join Cole, myself, Matt, Jeannie, and Emily. Liz had heard Cole's infamous laugh and a conversation about the music of Up from across the yard. (We tend to demand that attention in large groups). Every aspect of Liz's personality and appearance contrasted with that of her sister, the bride. While Cheryl, though lovely, initially came off as somewhat awkward and conservative….

Liz's first question for us immediately following our discussion of the visual and narrative significance of the movie Up was:

"So are you two going to PRIDE tomorrow?"

My and Cole's jaws dropped. We had no idea what to say. Gay was by no means tattooed on our foreheads, but why would it be the first question out of her mouth? Dumbstruck, neither I nor Cole could utter a word. The hair on the nape of my neck stuck up and I remembered Jeannie's presence and the fact that as close as we'd gotten to having a conversation about me being gay, it had never actually happened.

I swallowed my fear and opened my mouth, "Yes. Actually, I've been volunteering there the past two days."

"I've been meaning to go with some friends. You know me. I'm a bit of a 'fruit fly.'"

At that, it was immediately revealed to Cole and I had a new friend. We also had confirmation that any hopes that Jeannie and Matt might have had that we were straight were laid to rest next to that dream that what Jeannie and I had might grow into something more.

I Now Pronounce Thee…, Part 3

Self-Aware

Summer had lingered a few extra days last year. The dry heat provided a comfortable insulation to the inevitable cold about to beat at falls door. The air smelled of cut grass as the fourteen year-old boys who mowed them saw an end in sight for their summer jobs. Cole and I, were on our way to a pair of wedding receptions. With the standard wedding gift in hand—a popcorn popper, to remind us all of the fond memories of movie-watching and chatting—we made our way to the church meetinghouses to say our final goodbyes to Faith and Glenda.

Perhaps that seems a little strong. Weddings are, of course, joyous occasions, but commitment (rightly) comes with consequences that can be related to death. Once married, your relationship with a person can never be exactly the same—part of your relationship with that person is laid to rest. As two become one, compromises must be made as your social calendars merge, your number of friends and family commitments doubles, and you save whatever time is left after work and school. With each couple, the level of change is different; while some couples virtually disappear others remain a significant part of their social circles through facebook or regular social interaction.

In LDS culture, marriage is perceived as a step up in maturity. You get to have more responsibilities, more fun (*cough*…sex…), and move out of the good ol' singles ward. That day, it was pretty easy to perceive the change that would soon occur in our group of friends. Both returned missionaries, Faith and Glenda returned hoping to marry upstanding RMs (returned missionaries) and marry in the temple. Faith (one of the more beautiful girls who attended our high school) returned quite well-adjusted to BYU with her smile as gleaming as ever eventually encountering the man she would one day marry a couple of years later.

Glenda, on the other hand, had a particularly difficult time returning to the life she left behind. Her mother and best friend providing all the love and support one could ask for still did not compensate for the re-entry awkwardness so many missionaries face. The boys she'd dated had left the church and she returned in poor health. The following months were quite difficult not only for her but for many of her friends. Like many missionaries (mostly male, however), everything we discussed for the next six months was somehow related to a 10-minute mission story.

It was also apparent that she wanted to be married and quick. Within a couple of weeks she'd manipulated me into a date (this is a story for another series... probably later this month) and in six months she'd brought one of her exes back to the church and shortly marry thereafter… leading us back to that sultry summer weekend.

Cole and I passed through wedding lines, chatted with the parents of brides and grooms alike and enjoyed refreshments. Sitting at the receptions to these two friends, we had a subdued conversation about marriage. We were happy for the two of them (at varying degrees) and for their growing awareness of what it means to love someone and to be with them for "time and all eternity," yet at the back of our heads a pair of elephants in the room became apparent the longer we enjoyed the festivities:

1. Our closest friends are disappearing one by one.
   
2. Will we ever be the ones falling in love and pairing off? (…Definitely not with each other, btw…that topic also deserves its own post).

We occupied the air with conversation of memories of our friends (dearly-departed to another world)—the alliterative nicknames Faith had given us, the surprise parties, the senior trip with Glenda, and, or course, popcorn—rather than with these worries that would will someday be resolved.

End, Part 3

I Now Pronounce Thee…, Part 2

Precious

I'd been home from my mission exactly 9 days and it was Chenese and Nate's big day. Throughout high school, I'd considered Nate my best friend—my biggest competition in every sense of the word, though we never conceived each other as such. We were just friends seeking to make the school a better place. Nate and Chenese met under interesting circumstances and it didn't take long for love to blossom. He was her Model UN mentor and she was the girl everyone adored. Smart, talented, and perfect. For me, they became a sort of inspiration—a model for romance.

Bronson, Nate's fellow mentor, was visibly taken with Chenese from day one. It was that kind of puppy love that caused him to follow her, start up intellectual conversations to the ends of impressing her, and write borderline-creepy poetry about her. Nate understood that she did not find this attention flattering and one day came to her aid. Acting as hostess at a Model UN party, Chenese spent much of that night avoiding Bronson, but he managed to hover about her for a time always returning the conversation to himself as we do when we want to appear intellectual. Identifying the young woman's predicament (and likely seeing an opportunity to make a move himself), Nate came to Chenese's aid with a simple and smooth move.

Entering into the conversation, Nate smoothly distracted Bronson with a simple phrase taking advantage of a major chink in his armor:

"That's so interesting."

Seizing Bronson's attention by presenting him an opportunity to flex his intellectual muscles, Nate provided her a discrete exit, and himself with something much more meaningful. Their romance was sparked by a glance over his shoulder as she walked away and mouthed the words "Thank you" from across the room.

It was this story that solidified my relationship with Chenese and Nate. As the unattached nice guy in their life, I attained the status of designated third wheel in their relationship. They confided in me these romantic stories, their hopes and dreams, and their concerns for others.

I felt like a scientist making some sort of discovery. I was able to (in a very minimal way) see love germinate, sprout and grow over the course of four years. To return and see these two wed for time and all eternity was one of the most fortunate events of my life and has provided me with a vision of what love means. They had good times and bad, challenges and trials, yet nothing has phased the way that they treat each other or those around them. Seeing them look into each others' eyes and kiss over the alter –the way that they would any other day of their life together—took my breath away. Of course, each relationship is different from the next, but I learned from them that subtlety and consistency can be a fairytale romance in its own right.

End, Part 2.

I Now Pronounce Thee…

May I just say I love weddings? I really do. Although there is plenty of reason to be resentful over equal rights and such, nothing can beat a good wedding. I definitely have my fair share of cynicism in regards to marriage and Utah culture (too young, too fast,…too horny…). Since getting back from my mission, I've been to a number of weddings and receptions for friends in every situation you can imagine: LDS and non-LDS friends; college, high school, and mission friends; and even some of the girls who went out with me.

I am not quite sure why I sometimes go out of my way to find even the weakest excuse to attend nuptial festivities. Perhaps it's the calorie-dense food? The carefree, positive ambiance? The opportunity to dress in a three-piece suit? Likely, the answer is a clichéd "all of the above." This might explain why I've considered taking up the weekend pastime of wedding crashing.

It's perhaps the most unique of date ideas. Pull out the society page from the local paper, and hop from wedding reception to wedding reception, and introduce yourself as a cousin or friend of some sort. It has the ingredients of a great time: free food, social interaction, and adventure (especially if someone accuses you of trespassing…). Morally gray hijinks aside, some of my fondest memories and most embarrassing memories are associated with weddings and as the wedding of one of my dearest friends approaches, I've decided to share some of those moments.

End, Part 1.

On the Protection of Civil-Rights

I had a difficult time reading Elder Oaks civil rights/Prop 8 analogy. Oaks, giving a talk at BYU-I (follow link to transcript here), likened the backlash against Mormons as a result of Proposition 8 to the hardships faced by those involved in the civil rights movement. Several comments have been made regarding the comparison (see SL Tribune commentary) and it has largely been seen as a gross misuse of the emotional and political significance of the civil rights movement.

A talented legal mind, Oaks drew on a number of different political movements. He praised the constitution as a document written "by wise men whom [God] raised up for that very purpose." He also cited the example of Oyun Altangerel, a Mongolian woman who performed a hunger strike and organized protests in favor of democracy. Oaks defines one of the roles of government as to "protect the health and safety of all." As anyone knows, the interpretation of the law is just as contentious as the actual laws themselves (if not more so). Who is to determine what needs to be protected or saved? That is the foundation of democracy and civil protest.

One statement that stands out in Oaks' speech is the section title "Religious Freedom Diluted by Other 'Civil Rights.' " The movement to legalize same-sex marriage is indeed one of civil rights with which the LDS Church and other religious groups disagree on the basis of freedom to practice religion (…at least the way they define it). Defined in terms of protecting health and safety by the right, gays and lesbians attempting to marry have been demonized in this debate.

We have been called everything from heathens to pseudo-victims and "deniers of free speech" to "opponents of democracy" as Elder Oaks insinuates. I believe differently from Elder Oaks and find it hypocritical not only for him but also others to demand their civil rights to freedoms of belief and speech yet use it to deny ours. If all men were created equal, then why should one man or woman be denied a right because his or her religious beliefs do not fall in line with those of the majority? That is why we life in a democracy with protection of Civil Rights despite the differing opinions of the majority—that is what makes this country great.

One cannot simply state that someone's beliefs are inferior because they are based more in religion or convenience or reason. This argument hinges on the biggest hot button of the entire debate: What is the family and does the government need to protect it? Is this a matter of health and safety?

The one man, one woman definition of the family is based in belief and tradition that is preserved at a cost. In 2006, half a million children in this country were in foster care. 250,000 were under the age of ten. Of those half million 50,000 (10%) were adopted (See US Dept. of Health and Human Services report). The foster care system of the country has been investigated by a number of journalists for certain abuses, and despite the good that many of these foster parents do, study after study has shown that a stable situation is a more conducive atmosphere to child development. Which only leaves one question: can gay/lesbian couples provide that type of environment? Given the right to marry, they could provide a stable atmosphere albeit one with a different set of religious beliefs.

Also, how can the government really protect its citizens' health or safety by denying the right to marry to same-sex couples? I suppose the implication here is STIs. Granted, the prevalence of these diseases is higher in the gay community; however, I think that this is more a result of the civil rights issue than a discouragement. Were straight couples not given the right to pledge fidelity to one another, would they be expected to pair up and remain monogamous for the rest of their lives? No. The promiscuity and instability of gay culture stems from the fact that we are denied a very basic right to be anything more than a couple and NOT an evil desire to destroy others' beliefs.

Although Elder Oaks drew connections between the Civil Rights movement and Mormon activism in California's Prop. 8 debate, a paradox surfaces that civil-rights and persecution—if anything—are two-way streets. Respecting others' beliefs means respecting the rights of others not only to believe but also to do—despite difference.