And Now For Something Completely Different…

After a rather heavy set of posts, I’ve decided to lighten it up a little. I’m just going to indulge a bit. As I deal with a very busy life (family, friends, work, rehearsals, roommates, dating and related personal crises), I am putting the serious on hold for a few days at the very least.

As I write this, I tease my roommate about his crushes on Michael Phelps and Josh Groban. “I have many famous boyfriends.”

Today, I’ll indulge in a little fantasy of my own. In something I will call my:

Man Harem

—(I’ll avoid any polygamy jokes based in Utah history or the Old Testament…)—

Everybody has those guys they really find irresistible for whatever reason. Suppose you were to choose… say… ten guys to have to yourself. I’ll leave to your imagination the process.

Following a discussion with the author of Finding Your Path and In the spirit of People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive Issue , I present to you my own selection.

10. Matthew Morrison

This one was a little obvious. I proudly must say that I fell for Mr. Schu far before many of you when he was playing Fabrizio in Adam Guettel’s The Light in the Piazza. Even though, he’s often compared to a cartoon charater, he has it all: curly hair, pothole-sized dimples, and vocal and dance moves to boot.

9. Tom Welling

Mr. Welling was probably my first, unrealized man crush. In high school, I never missed an episode of Smallville. I thought I was just jealous of how fit he was.

8. Cheyenne Jackson

This new addition to the best show on television (30 Rock) is also a talented singer and actor. The tall, dark, and handsome type with class.

7. Kayky Brito

Another actor, but none of you probably know him. He was in a pair of my favorite novells. Alma Gemeas and Cobras e Largatos. Again, even before the inklings of homosexuality manifested themselves, I couldn’t take my eyes off this guy.

5. Cary Grant

I didn’t say that they had to be alive, now, did I? He’s a leading man that transcends time.

6. Harry “Other Asian” Shum, Jr.

Okay, so I couldn’t help choosing another Gleek for my list. My choice, probably takes a few of you off guard. Let me just say: this kid has moves! By the way, trivia experts, his actual name on the show is Mike Chang.

4. Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Who knew that the kid from 3rd Rock would turn out normal let alone… um… yeah. Watching 500 Days of Summer ,I just wanted to take him and his hipster vests and tell him everything would be okay.

3. Lee Pace

He has that understated charm and comedic timing that’s just irresistible. All I really need to say, though, is he has a smile to die, un-die, and die again for. I’ll go back to writing my Pushing Daisies fan fiction now….

2. MIKA

I wish I could wear skinny jeans like him. Who knew that falsetto could be so sexy? What makes him even sexier is the mixing and composition that goes into his work. He is a visionary.

1. David Tennant

When I found out that they were reviving my favorite British television show (Doctor Who) 6 years ago, I was a total skeptic. I am now ever so thankful I was proven wrong. He is an actor that stands out as three-dimensional—able to get to show us the darker and lighter side of every character he plays. The dress, face and accent are also a huge draw, too.

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.

The Obligatory "New Moon" Response

It happened.

I broke down and saw the second installment of the Twilight series. My friend Stuart invited me.

Prior to the movie, I took a pretty uppity tone with my friend Stuart. He had enjoyed the first movie and I had not (although my experience was tainted by the fact that I saw it with a boy who tried taking advantage of me in a foreign country…). We have different tastes.

Here's our exchange of texts for the evening after we'd decided to go:

GMB: Thanks for the invite tonight. Do I have permission to heckle?
Stuart: Over what?
GMB: The cheesiness of the movie.
Stuart: Get over it. You know it's going to be good.
GMB: I'm taking a notebook to write down the worst lines. And maybe to sketch Jacob's six-pack
Stuart: You know we are going for the eye candy!
GMB: Not for the complex plot and 3-dimensional characters and their nuanced romance?
Stuart: Literary junkie!
GMB: Call me a snob if I enjoy the abstract and the aesthetic
Stuart: Now, now. It's just playful banter.
GMB: That's what makes this fun. I like to pull out the word 'aesthetic' every chance I get.

Needless to say, I didn't go into the movie taking it half as seriously as the eight sixteen year old girls sitting next to me in the theater. As the moon appeared on the screen and morphed into the title card for the movie, a chorus of cat calls erupted.

Seriously, what is wrong with these girls? (And twenty-something gay men?)
Although I would have liked to have gained some insight to love or how we treat each other in watching this film, the moral seemed pretty disconcerting. Are brooding men with violent tendencies supposed to be attractive?
Let's face it…even if Edward (or Jacob) is so dang cute (and they are…more so Jacob), shouldn't the potential for domestic violence be a relationship deal-breaker?

Social morality diatribe aside, the film doesn't have much to offer that I couldn't find elsewhere:
If I wanted to hear a teenage girl whine about a breakup for an hour and a half, I would go speak with one of any number of my cousins.
If I wanted cheesy lines, I'd go buy some Laughy Taffy in bulk.
And finally,
If I wanted to stare at hot, half-naked men, I'd go to one of many resources on the web created expressly for that purpose.

Instead, read these rejected screenplays for Twilight and New Moon. You'll save time and not even need to test your threshold for pain.

The Five Tests

"Elders and Sisters," he said, "this is part of your preparation to find your eternal companion. Relish every moment of your mission and you will be blessed in every sense of the word."

We've all sat down and given good thought to what we want out of a partner. I remember hearing a talk from a general authority in my mission about finding the right spouse. He gave us instructions regarding our physical and emotional well-being and ended with three pieces of advice meant for our return:

"Upon your return, you mustn't neglect to seek out the woman that will raise your children and love you beyond the day that you die. She will have a greater impact on you than your mission ever will."

That, of course, did not help the more trunky Elders (slang for the missionaries incapacitated by homesickness).

"I present to you three tests your future wife must complete to make sure she's the one."

The missionaries (Elders and sisters alike) readied their pens to take furious notes in anticipation of the Seventy's formula for happiness.

"First, take her to her ward and visit the nursery. See how she does with the kids. Then tell the nursery leaders they can take a break. Agitate the kids a bit by telling them they get cookies after church is over then lock her in the room alone with a dozen three-year olds. If she survives..."

We hesitated a little wondering if it was appropriate to laugh.

"... and doesn't kill you, at least you know she'll be a good mother."

Then, the inappropriate laughter commenced.

Working off the energy of the crowd he continued, "The second test is much easier. Set up a quiet dinner date for the two of you... and invite your parents. Give her an hour's notice. If the meal turns out well, and doesn't kill you, you'll know she's a good cook."

At this point, a few of the Elders were probably still taking him seriously, unfortunately.

"Finally, the last test is a date on the beach. Make sandcastles, have a romantic walk, and make sure to have a good swim. When you're out in the water (and when she's least suspecting), dunk her a few times then take a good look. If that's something you're okay with looking at every morning, you've probably found the right woman.

"Of course, if she has the patience to go through all of that, you have an added bonus."

Everyone had a good laugh at the implausibility of the suggestions. Considering the fact that he the general authority was a Latino speaking in Latin America, there's a little more leeway as far as machismo and humor go. The advice is abstractly practical. Essentially, he was telling us that we should consider more than just sexual attraction as a matrimonial barometer.

Over the past year, I've worked out my own little informal system consisting of five tests:

Test #1: The First Date Test.

Generally, I don't turn down a first date. I think that one-on-one time is where you really find out about a person, and first impressions are pretty important in my book. Even the type of date is important; dinner and a movie is not ideal for me because I want to know someone through conversation. (In total, the number of guys who have taken this test is approaching 80).

Test #2: The Cole Test

Cole has my back. He wants to see me happy and I value his opinion. When I'm dating someone and enjoying it, Cole is generally the first one to find out and if Cole feels it's about to get serious, he either meets the boy or finds him on Facebook in order to conduct a "worthiness interview." (About 3 have gone through the interview process and another 5 or so have met him).

Test #3: The Girl Friends Test

Practically every GMB has his straight Mormon girl friends. If the boy I like can survive any awkwardness surrounding my friends and their weirdness, loudness, and/or difference in belief, he's probably a keeper. (3 have made it to this point).

Test #4: The Bobbie Jean Test

As one of Bobbie Jean's 3 Gay Sons, I am obligated to take gay boy in question 'to meet the parents.' She's expects a lot because, in her eyes, I deserve the best.I've only gathered the courage to introduce one boy to her. (Mark).

Test #5: The Parents Test

Of course, if my surrogate mother's opinion matters so much, my actual mother's (and father's) will as well. They have met a few of the boys I've dated, however I've never introduced them as anything more than friends. Though it's difficult to think about sometimes, I'm confident that one day I'll meet someone who, in my parents' eyes will be worth losing my eternal salvation.

30

Considering the volume of my latest posts and to celebrate my 30th post, I thought one of these word cound analysis graphs would reveal a thing or two.

A few conclusions may be drawn:

1. Mark had an impact on my life I'm still coming to grips with.
2. I use the word never more than I thought.
3. Cole is definitely my best friend or has the ego to compensate for that not being the case.

[Created with the help of wordle.net]

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.

Shame on You, America Forever

Today at work, I saw a colleague in tears over a hateful fax that was sent across the state of Utah today in reaction to the LDS church’s newly-proclaimed stance on non-discrimination laws.

The fax in question (visible here) spewed racism, libel, and downright hatred, preying on the weak-minded suggesting that “[e]ndorsing these lifestyles to the young of tender ages confuses them and causes violence to their mind, body and spirit.” americaforever.com (which I found on a list of Utah’s tax-exempt organizations) claims to have sent out 80,000 copies of the ignorantly-worded and shoddily-crafted document.

I am proud of my ex-boss who, upon receiving this fax, phoned these people up and announced to them that “[e]very time I receive a piece of hate with your name on it, I am going to donate $50 to Equality Utah.” I encourage everyone to take a stand and do something. Call these people (801.508.5380) and tell them you won’t stand for hate or email a complaint with the FCC (fccinfo@fcc.gov).

Thanks for listening. Hate is definitely one thing that should never be tolerated.

I Now Pronounce Thee…, Part 4

Awkward

"Keep your Peter in Your Pants!"

Throughout high school, those words were our own inappropriate inside joke. Unlike other parents that would say things like "Remember who you are" as their children heading out of the house, Cole's Father, prior to any date, would employ humor rather than guilt and awkward embarrassment to keep his sons from having any pre-marital sex. Well into our college years, his gruff voice always carried with it a certain sense of intimidation.

Hoping to embarrass him, the night of his wedding Cole decided to text our friend Payton this little phrase to see how embarrassed/mad/anxious he would get. We never saw his reaction. Either foreseeing our prank or out of politeness to his wife and family, the phone remained in his pocket and turned off throughout the reception. Later, of course, he would get the message and likely roll his eyes before hopping into the honeymoon bed.

That night started off as embarrassing for me as any of us could ever hope to embarrass Payton. Jacqueline had just found out (and adjusting to her new mantle of 'fruit fly') and Cole and I were making efforts to be more open about our escapades to that point in our lives. On our way to the wedding—the true highlight of the story—the subject of dating had come up and at this point in the process of coming out, I was dating a lot. Jacqueline had plenty of questions about what had happened prior to her return from her mission.

Following a discussion of Cole's engagement and our journey to "coming out to ourselves," my best friend took the opportunity to share every embarrassing detail and offer perspectives I'd never heard before on my four months of dating. I'd never say that it was a form of revenge or anything malicious, but if Cole had wanted to blackmail me at that time, these stories would be the one's he'd use in my tell-all biography.

Looking back, these were nothing more than tales of inexperience and puppy love, but they were really the most intimate moments of my life at the time. Despite being on his mission, Mark remained on my mind at all times, so any discussion of our time together brought up all sorts of emotions I wasn't prepared to deal with (just as Cole faced a rush of emotions every time he was forced to explain his failed engagement and the hardest of these stories to hear really touched on both of these experiences.

"It was your average outing with Bobbie Jean with one exception," Cole began. "It was the regular dinner and a show/opera/exhibit format, but GMB had brought Mark to meet the parents so to speak. Bobbie Jean is basically our mom. She provides the guidance that she would provide her children were she to have any and we, her gay boys, take the advice we'd never get from our parents.

"We had a very normal dinner—Chinese at the best place in town. We caught up on each others lives and everyone got to know GMB's boyfriend. It was a little awkward I suppose because my 'date' for the night was the last girl I'd attempted to date."

Jacqueline interjected with a barely-audible "Hmm?," squinting slightly in one eye. "Oh…. Long story. We would take each other out pretty often for lunch. I guess it started out as dating and ended up turning into discussions of why we could never be a couple."

"Oh," Jacqueline uttered, sympathizing with the unintentional jilting of another straight Mormon girl.

"At dinner, we spent a lot of time joking about how things didn't work out, but we quickly moved on to teasing the lovebirds." At that moment, I'm sure I blushed a little.

"It got even better at the show. Myra had gotten us free tickets to Footloose on the back row—where no one can see you cuddle...." The jab carried sufficient weight to make me blush even more.

"To be honest, though," he continued, "the real show was not what was on stage. All of us—me and Bobbie Jean, especially—were much more entertained by GMB and Mark's attempting to hold hands seated next to an old Mormon couple. They'd probably been married fifty years on their weekly date when out of the blue the homos show up to make them uncomfortable."

Noticing that I was getting a little red in the face, Cole decided to test the limits a little bit. Jacqueline chuckled despite her sympathy for the couple just going to the show to see a little community theater, and Cole's description of our hand-holding: "They were like two turtles. Both of them were so anxious over being seen or what people would think or what each other might do, they would make all of the signals to hold each others' hands and then pull away. This went on for maybe a half hour as Bobbie Jean and I chuckled to ourselves a few seats down.

"Finally, they did it. The couple showed a little initial discomfort, but they got over it. The satisfaction on Mark and GMB's faces was priceless, though. Who knew that releasing those hormones would lead to such happiness on the faces of two gay boys?"

Just when I thought it was over and I couldn't be more horrified, Cole brought up the backseat—the very one we were sitting in on our way to Payson's wedding. It was perhaps the cutest moment that Mark and I had ever had. It just happened to take place in Cole's backseat and Cole just happened to be there.

"We decided to take my car to save gas and carpool. So, the plan was for GMB to take Mark to the door, kiss him goodnight, and kiss him goodbye. But…"

I chuckled in anticipation.

"…as we got to Mark's house just past midnight we realized that his neighbors were outside working on a car with the kind of floodlights they'd use in an NFL stadium. An angry groan came from the back seat 'Stupid Brother Sorenson. Who works on a car at this hour?!' Needless to say, their little plan was ruined. No good night smooch. No romantic goodbyes. Nothing….

"Until Mark made a request: 'Cole, can your backseat be my doorstep tonight?' I gave in and let them go at it for a while. All sorts of terrible sounds were coming from back there. I didn't even have time to turn on the radio or cover my ears!"

I thought that was the worst of it. The most embarrassed I could possibly be and the most uncomfortable that Jacqueline could feel about her RM boy friend making out a pre-missionary. It got worse, though. I blushed more than I'd ever blushed and as anxious as that time I hit the emergency button in my grandmother's hospital room when I was seven.

"I couldn't believe it! GMB was inaugurating MY backseat. Even when I was engaged, I didn't get to make out back there. I am a good friend! I am a DAMN GOOD friend for donating my back seat! To this day, he's gotten more action in my car than I have! You owe me, GMB. You owe me big."

The conversation ended in awkward laughter. I wasn't sure whether to feel worse over Jacqueline's discomfort (as she squinted and squeaked a little bit as she laughed) or my own (as I laughed off the awkwardness and Cole reassured me he'd worked through those feelings). It was difficult to realize that my escapades had caused angst for my best friend, but we worked things out in a couple of minutes as we made our way into the most awkward wedding reception of our life. The emotions were a bit off. Awkward neediness and anger filled the air. Unfortunately, unlike our situation in the car, this tension didn't disappear with laughter.

Blessings from the Glee Gods

Distracted, again, from my current series I came across a track list for the next Glee CD. Naturally, I thought I wouldn't be the only one who would appreciate this fortunate news. Having jammed out to "Glee: The Music Vol. 1" all week long in the car, my anticipation of Vol. 2 has grown to perhaps an unhealthy degree (much like my crush on Mr. Schu).

If my pumpkin homage isn't enough for you, I guess I'll share with you the tracklisting for "Glee: The Music Vol. 2″:

"Proud Mary"
"Endless Love"
"I'll Stand By You"
"Don't Stand So Close To Me"/"Young Girl"
"Crush"
"(You're) Having My Baby"
"Lean On Me"
"Don't Make Me Over"
"Imagine"
"True Colors"
"Jump"
"Smile" (Lily Allen cover)
"Smile" (Charlie Chaplin cover)
"And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going"
"Don't Rain On My Parade"
"You Can't Always Get What You Want"
"My Life Would Suck Without You"

[courtesy: http://www.playbill.com/]

Of the 17 new tracks from "Homo Explosion," I'm particularly excited for "I'll Stand By You" and "Lean on Me" although that suggests that there's some drama on the horizon for our favorite rejects. The one track the sticks out, though is "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going." We've heard Jennifer Hudson, but it looks like it looks like we'll soon be blown away by Mercedes and her show-stopping chops.

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

To Cut a Gourd

Taking a break from the current series, I just thought I'd share some of the holiday festivities I've participated in. Being the second year that we have carved pumpkins as a group of friends, it's become tradition....

...It's also become evidence of my progress in gaydom. Case in point:

2008: Artsy Face Pumpkin

2009: Manifestation of Gleekiness, No. 1

You be the judge.

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.

Go Out and Earn Those Gay Merit Badges

I can easily say that in the past year, I've come a long way. I feel so much more accomplished and self-assured at this point in my life. I've made my way professionally, academically, and emotionally.

Recently, I've decided that we GMBs need a way to show just how far we've come in our journeys. That's why I suggest the implementation of a "gay merit badge" system.

Now, having watched the Shelley Long movie Troop Beverly Hills in the past week, my brain might have melted a bit—exposed to the late 80s camp—but this idea has some potential. In the film, spoiled trophy wife Phyllis Nefler leads a group of equally-spoiled rich girl scouts to a sense of accomplishment and self-understanding as they sell cookies, tract through the wilderness, and (of course) earn merit badges.

While the girls in the movie earn merit badges for everything from divorce court to jewelry appraisal, my gay merit badge sash would display my accomplishments in:

Interior Design

Qualifications: multiple day-long trips to IKEA, holding the decorating responsibilities in my office, incorporating words like "décor" and "ambiance" into my regular vocabulary.

Making "One of the Girls" Status

Qualifications: girl friends making invitations to bachelorette parties, attendance at multiple baby and wedding showers, regularly complimenting my girl friends' fashion.

Wedding Dress Shopping

Qualifications: studying and critiquing dresses in magazines with Cole and my best girl friends, acting as consultant to an engaged couple and the groom's mother on a trip to David's Bridal as well as selecting the 'winning' dress.

There is nothing better than being happy about who you are. I accept my talents for what they are as I become more comfortable and proud of what makes me me: an eye for fashion, compassion for my closest girl friends, etc.

Accusations of indoctrination aside, that's perhaps the greatest thing that organizations like the Boy and Girl Scouts of America accomplish. Like Phyllis Nefler and her Wilderness Girls show us, we all need to look back once in a while and ask what kind of a difference we've made and assure ourselves that we're happy with who we are and the difference we make in others' lives for being who we are.

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.

Rethinking “Don’t Tell”: Gays in the Armed Forces

I got an interesting question from a friend yesterday that got me thinking:

Hey, one of my friends in my legislative politics class is writing a paper arguing about the "Don't ask, don't tell" policy, and is wondering about the view that homosexuals take on it. Any thoughts? Would you be offended or a supporter of separate living barracks for Out individuals if it were repealed?


My response:

A homosexual who has served in the armed forces would probably have a more interesting and thoughtful response, but I'll speak to what I understand or presume to understand.

"Don't ask, don't tell" was implemented largely on the basis of not making straight individuals uncomfortable without outright denying homosexuals the right to serve in the armed forces. The main problem with that position is that it suggests a relationship of inferiority/superiority.

That begs the question, what would be the consequences of being Out in the armed forces? The worst case scenario would be violence and/or discrimination which, ideally, should be ameliorated by the justice system of the armed forces. That said, Out individuals would be aware of the risks they take by being Out with their fellow soldiers/marines/etc. just as they would be with their family members or co-workers.

The main problems I see with the proposed solution of living in separate barracks are:

1. It reminds me of the "separate but equal" pre-civil-rights doctrine. Who's to guarantee equal conditions/facilities/treatment in separation.
2. Financially, it would likely be difficult to secure or construct homosexual-only barracks.
3. Finally, it is not a solution to the larger problem.

I see it this way: separation suggests that Out individuals need some sort of protection. To me what is really necessary is a change in mindset. But how do you change a person's misconceptions? Through lectures? Through violence? No. The only solution is putting these people in a position from which they can see for themselves that the stereotypes don't hold up. (Especially for gays in the military. In my limited experience, I've found that gay the men I've known in the armed forces do not stick out it any way).

I concede that it's a difficult question, but I think that it will just take a few willing strong men and women being themselves—given the opportunity to be Out (and guaranteed protection)—to break down those stereotypes by fighting alongside men and women who don't necessarily agree with their lifestyle.

...Or... perhaps the best solution would be homosexual squadrons in the Greek tradition? Men fighting alongside their lovers fighting for each others' lives in the heat and passion of battle. Although I might contradict my "separate but equal" point, I suppose there would definitely be more incentive to succeed!

“We Need to Talk”, Part 5

After that emotional episode with Jacqueline, I became a little more cautious in regards to coming out to especially close friends from high school.

Since everyone I saw on a regular basis already knew, the issue didn't come up often. By that time, everyone around me knew and the issues were all on the table by that point. At this point, Jacqueline and Cole began to work through some issues and ended up being as close as they'd ever been. Because of Cole and Jacqueline's situation, I was rather cautious about coming out to friend Serenity. We'd never actually dated or anything the like, but it was apparent that she had feelings for me in high school.

To be honest, part of Serenity terrified me. She is one of the strongest women I know. Intense as the pyres of purgatory. Amazingly talented. One of those few people who could do anything she put her mind to and given a fair chance. Without meeting her, you can understand why I was intimidated.

In high school, I was struggling with a lot of different things (enough that I could probably compile into a post of itself) and evaded or played dumb to any hint Serenity might have provided for us to do anything alone together. This persisted for longer than either of us would be happy to admit yet we considered each other friends.

In the year or so before my mission, we had the biggest falling out I've ever had in my life (with the exception of perhaps a mission friend, but, again, that's another story…). It involved the production of a musical—a high-brow satire of communist ideology—and creative rights. We both abandoned the project and three years of awkwardness ensued.

Upon my return, things had improved thanks to the healing powers of time. We were both more mature and I had gained some confidence from the trials of being a missionary. That said, there was a certain residual awkwardness we were not able to overcome no matter how much fun we had together. Living a few hours apart, we'd make an effort to hang out when we managed to be in the same part of Utah at the same time.

Being the sophisticated, talented woman she is, Serenity didn't need to sit down with me and have a tough conversation to realize that I was gay. Perhaps she knew before anyone else.

One of my little evasive tactics for talking about life without indicating my sexuality is constructing my sentences without subject pronouns. That way there's no lying involved—just a lot of "We did this or that" and benign code words. In conversation, Mark became known as "The Missionary." After sitting through one of these conversations with me and Jacqueline on a shopping trip, Serenity immediately became suspicious. And as Cole was one of the only guys I introduced "The Missionary" to, Serenity sought to put her curiosities to rest. The following is a recreated conversation between the two:

Cole: Serenity! How are you? Is school treating you well?

Serenity: You know. Same old. Same old. Lots of stress.

Cole: I know. You're as amazing as ever and holding that A average.

Serenity: Haha…. Maybe.

Cole: I'm sorry I couldn't make it down last week with the others. Jacqueline and (Gay Mormon Boy) said you three had a great time.

Serenity: Yeah. It was great. I have a question for you, though.

Cole: Of course.

Serenity: What's this about GMB's "Missionary"

Cole: What about "The Missionary?"

Serenity: I guess it surprised me to hear GMB was so serious with someone.

Cole: (anticipating) So what's your question?

Serenity: Is his missionary a guy?

Cole: Ummm… I can't answer that question. You'll need to talk to him about that.

So she knew. Cole told me immediately and I wasn't sure what to think. That bit of terror and fear from high school resurfaced as I anticipated running into her the next time. What would she say? Would she avoid me? Would she even bring it up?

Upon arriving at her place for a little pre-Halloween festivity, I felt a real difference in the atmosphere as she opened the door to her apartment. That little talk with Cole ironically cured our relationship of all the awkwardness in the air. Serenity quickly adjusted as the possibility of a relationship came to an end forever and my capacity in her life—as a shopping buddy and fellow partaker of the arts—came to fruition. We were able to joke like never before and laugh about everything we'd been through.

Sharing this part of my life has brought me closer and closer to nearly all of my friends. The more I accept and share this part of my life, the better I feel about everything I had once felt badly or awkwardly about. I might have a different approach to making my life what I want it to be—taking things a day at a time rather than jumping in—I can see that I have been and am making genuine progress in my life in a direction I'm finally happy with.

And in the end, I think that's all any of us can ask.

“We Need to Talk”, Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm so happy you told me."

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

End, Part 4.

“We Need to Talk”, Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End, Part 3

“We Need to Talk”, Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay. What is it?"

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

"Yeah…?"

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

Simple, quick, and to the point.

"You mean?"

"Yeah. And I'm pretty sure."

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

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

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

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

End, Part 2.

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

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

That said, other reactions can be downright hilarious.

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

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

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

End, Part 1.

Vanished: A Stereotypical Gay Breakup Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The Wall-E Principle”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Big Question

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

50 Days of Mark

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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