Noodling

What to do? What to do?

The relationship with "the guys" continues to be a

crazy experience. I so enjoy their company, but at some point I am going to wake up to the obvious realization that I am putting WAY too much energy into a sinking ship here.

I can see the pattern for myself: they sort of do what they please, on their schedule, and I take what I can get. Now I don't mean this in a mean way. They are not malicious, at least not purposefully.

But the pattern is clea

r: I love the time I get with them. I love every minute. I find myself counting down days and hours and minutes until we have some time together. It's right next to insane. And here's the really crazy part: I suspect they do the very same thing.

And yet, our actions toward each other don't support the anticipation. For example, they recently took a vacation of their own, without me. Any time their schedule presents a conflict for us, I lose out on the time together. We get to be one group of 3 people sharing life when we are in private, another group when trusted friends are around, and another group altogether when others are around. It's not fair; someday my mind and heart will BOTH accept that.

These are guys who routinely move heaven and earth to remove obstacles. They rarely let circumstances get the best of them; it just does not happen. I watched us back when we began to fall in love; on a whim, they called to say they missed me and would travel back to my town the very next weekend to see me.

I had a huge event last fall for which I had been preparing for months, and it all culminated in a big event several states over. I found out two weeks ahead that they had made preparations to be there, and to support not only me but many of my friends too.

But circumstances got the best of us; barriers exist that prevent us from ever being a polyamorous triad. I do not happen to understand those barriers because I view them as rather selfish, especially given the promises we all made to one another to journey together. But we won't be a family, and that breaks my heart over...

and over...

and over...

and over...

and over.

So I have been noodling on what I do next. What is best for the Journeyman?

I have no fucking idea.

On one side of the aisle is my conviction that I stick with this in the incredibly slim hopes this could come back together. But months after "the breakup," I am best served by giving up those hopes. So then what?

Be friends, or part ways altogether?

I realize that I absolutely love them, singly and together. I realize that I love myself when I am with them. I realize that I am having an awful time making plans for a life without them as partners.

Being friends sounds so nice and sanitary. Yet I cringed this week when I visited them and I spent the night in a guest bedroom. I hated it. And not because I needed wild rock-star sex. I just wanted to be close--or closer--than I was allowed to be.

I want more than this relationship can sustain, and being near them is so much harder than I expected. I keep seeing myself as part of their world, and I am almost certain they do not see it that way. They are moving on; I am not.

So what's best? Moving on completely? Breaking all ties? It brings me almost to tears just to consider it.

Yet how will my heart learn that those two aren't family unless I kill the relationship completely?

Steadfast

Major breakthrough for me this week...

I have a hard time moving on from things and adapting to change. I can do it, but only after some kicking and screaming. With this last relationship, there has been a lot of kicking, screaming, digging in heels and doing whatever it takes to keep it alive.

That could be tough because perhaps I should learn to on more quickly. But, what a gift, to remain so steadfast that my point of view and my goals did not change throughout this unorthodox relationship. Even now, I am still maintaining my original position, that I want to put our relationship back together. *That* should be admirable, and lend stability to an otherwise tough situation where some of the others made promises that were later broken and changed rules midstream without much consideration for how those would fully play out.

I never miss an opportunity to feel bad about myself; it seems I self-flog my own self repeatedly. For once, I found a reason to like myself, and I sort of like this new approach to find even small positivity in myself. Good for me, to be steadfast. Seems a lot like how God would want it.

"I wish I knew how to quit you"

(I have maintained quite a bit of anonymity here, though I suspect what I write about next will tip a few folks off as to who I am. So if this rings a bell, I just respectfully ask you allow me to remain anonymous.)

How do you quit somebody? Or somebodies?

In my last post, I lamented losing a boyfriend. However, that's not quite what I lost. Instead, it was two boyfriends.

Somehow, someway, without notice and without seeking it, I fell in love with a gay couple. And they with me. And it was good.

So good that I got lost in love all over again, and this time twice as bad because there were two guys. I wouldn't have gone seeking this, but I cannot help who I love, and I was willing to explore it. Unfortunately, we did not all see eye-to-eye on the future and on sacrifices and on supporting one another. And it was over.

On the breakup alone I could write and write and write, which I have in my journal.

My thoughts today revolve around a complete inability to move on. I still want them. I suspect one of the two guys also wants to continue, but dude #3 has closed the door in his mind. He has moved on. So the two guys are back together, but I am out there on my own.

We continue to communicate regularly because once I commit to something (and in this

case, I committed some extraordinary energy to making this relationship work), I stick with it. My word is everything. In my head, I continue to hope that we will come back together. I continue to dream about this great future in which the 3 of us tackle life, just like we said we would. I continue to honor the promise we made that we would not leave each other alone, that there would be no distance between us.

Yet on this very day, I am alone and without them. And they are on a vacation, without me.

"I wish I knew how to quit you."

I want to shout it from the top of my lungs. I want to cut off all ties and communications and scream aloud how wrong this is that I am alone again. I want to be angry, and then in the very next moment, I melt with memories of the triad we were and the tenderness that existed between us.

They brought some amazing things out of me, and I rose up out of a depression during our relationship. People who barely knew me asked why I was so bubbly and positive. Life decisions that had confounded me for years were starting to come together. A chance for a new career, a chance for a new place to live, a chance to receive love, a chance to shower my love onto two other people. Amazing stuff.

The affection, the fun, the exploration, the positivity, the companionship...ah, the companionship. It was more than I ever thought I deserved. So perhaps I fulfilled my own prophecy.

I cannot give up hope that we can get back together. Yet there is no evidence that we can ever be together. Dude #3 is not in favor of getting back together, and this is not a majority rules situation. We need 3 YES votes to continue forward.

Bad as the situation looks, I keep thinking about how great things could have been, and how crappy they have been since. And although there is so little hope for us to be together--to be a true Modern Family--I keep clinging to that virtually non-existent sliver of a promise of a chance that we can reconcile. I knew who I was when that relationship was great, and I loved me then. I know who I am now, and I like it a lot less.

So we keep talking, and I keep looking for clues that we can get back together. I hope we can experience a miracle of rekindling that great relationship. Yet it's not going to happen. In my head I know it; in my heart I refuse to admit defeat.

And so I torture myself. Continuing to stay in touch, hoping we can make it happen. I get a little hope up, then it goes away again. It's like tearing a bandage off my skin slowly, repeatedly, and experiencing the pain over and over. My friends all way, "Haven't you broken up with these guys 4 times by now?" In my mind, I have, because I catch a glimmer of hope and then I am crushed all over again when it doesn't happen.

I had dinner with them last week. I counted the hours and minutes until I could see them. Now they are on vacation for a week, and we have no way to communicate. It's crushing me; I wonder if they even remember me.

I wish I knew how to quit them.

When a break feels like failure

Crashing right into stuff after a two year absense...

I'm almost certain my current relationship is over, with a hard break taking up the month of July (at minimum) with little or no contact. Things really escalated around here when I shared my feelings, and that pains me greatly. I explained that I was feeling like an outsider and not always feeling safe because the rules kept changing and I was always at the receiving end of the changes (you can sleep here this night, but not that night; we'll introduce you like this when these people are present, and like that when those people are listening, etc.)

I was very careful to be factual with my feelings and not angry. The response was, "How dare you be so ungrateful, especially when work is so busy." About my personality: I need to have that environment in which I can explain myself safely, where someone is willing to inquire gently when I seize up (which I did over the weekend). I think this current relationship cannot provide that for me right now. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it is bad for me. It's not an indictment of the boyfriend; it is rather a realization that unless some things change, the current format is not a good situation.

So my loneliness kicks in, and I feel like I am being excluded. This is probably the healthiest thing which could happen, but still....

I want to visit a nice, comfortable homes. (Actually, I want to come home to him; I'll never forget walking into this very room in which I am sitting for the first time and hearing the words, "Welcome Home".) I want to go to the Mediterranean on a cruise. I want to hang out with on a Saturday. I want to cuddle up at night. I want to walk around a warm and finely decorated home in an awesome area with two awesome dogs to play with. I want the backing of partnership as I go through a job/career change. Yet, I cannot have it. And honestly, I'm not overly angry about this...more like disappointed. I didn't make the cut. I failed the interview. I wasn't worth the hassle.

I know friends who met 18 years ago, and they lived on different coasts at the time. Within 6 months, they were living together in Philly and have obviously made it work since then. Of the longevity of that relationship, I am truly jealous. I had hoped to have a similar tale, and for a time I saw it happening. But it isn't happening. And it won't be happening.

So this feels like a failure. I feel like a failure. I couldn't keep up and I still feel terribly lonely with all my feelings and doubts I just had lunch with the former boyfriend, and damn it all if I didn't want to grab his hand and kiss him right there in the restaurant and listen to his friendly drawl for as long as he would talk. But it can't happen. And I feel like a failure.

So that's Square One....talk with you a bit later.

I'm back

I'm back...and I need to talk some more. If there is anyone, I mean anyone, still out there, stay tuned.

Hold, Please

As anyone who still stops by here has figured out, I am not blogging so much just now. I feel as if I am facing some fairly monumental changes right now: career changes, personal growth, and now, even a relationship (and for those wondering, it is with a guy.)

These all require my attention, and in some cases I have been avoiding the confrontation within myself by blogging, surfing porn, or just going to bed. No more: I have to face the fear within myself and press forward.....somehow.

The blog stays up for now, though I may not update the blog for quite some time. It is time for me to update my life.

Baggage

Prepare yourselves. You are about to head toward territory that I have taken you to before. I ask for your patience.

I remember finding the underwear sections of the Sears catalog hot.

I remember vacationing in Phoenix when I was in junior high. At the hotel pool, this Adonis of a man arrived and soon stripped down to a white speedo to catch some rays. I was awestruck.

I remember the first time I rented gay porn--which was a trick because I had to find the right store to rent from.

I remember spending the last 60 minutes surfing porn. It literally just happened. Like literally in the hour. What a waste.

All these memories become baggage. They become heavy items which I lug around, perhaps as some self-imposed penance for my attraction to the male body. The load, however, becomes too much at times.

I can be quite agnostic about many things, resisting the idea that I can know things for absolute certain. There is always some doubt. Always. So for me to arrive at the "I'm gay" conclusion and then just get on with my life is a very very large piece of baggage. I find myself asking, "How can I be sure I am gay?" Pinning my sexuality on which photos I liked (ie, Chippendales) and which I was ambivalent about (ie, Playboy) seems like a lousy way to arrive at conclusions about my sexuality.

But it gets worse...I know one of the reasons I struggle so much with accepting about myself what is often so clear to others is that I find so much of the gay culture disheartening. I am not a party boy. I am not a social activist. I am not a social butterfly with the hippest clothes. I do not want another Craig's List hookup, because I have done that, and then been just sick about it. I just find guys more attractive than girls.

There were not lots of guys in high school and college that I crushed on. Sure, Ian the tennis player was so cute, and Mark the pre-med student was built. But I never thought to myself, "Hmmm...I would like to date him" or "I think about him day and night" or "I wonder what he would be like naked in my bed." (Ahem!) Instead I just surfed porn in the corner of the library, usually finding my way to male underwear models.

And then sometimes I am just not sure. I saw the movie Milk last night, and I wondered if I was supposed to be attracted to the guys in the movie or turned on by the gay intimacy therein, but I was not. But when I saw the movie Marley & Me on Christmas Day, I also wondered if I was supposed to be excited when Jennifer Aniston got naked. Which I also was not.

The burden of being gay is too much for me knowing that (1) it's sometimes not all that clear and (2) what is out there does not hold much appeal. Many of the stories I hear about gay people is that they just could not hold back any more. Being gay was such a part of them that they had to go public. I don't feel that way. I feel like I could just go on being single and alone for a long time, because then at least I wouldn't have to feel the brand of society, especially in my part of the country.

But then again, I have to consider the couple times in my life where there was close intimacy with another guy. And it was wonderful. To just hang out with someone, to make dinner with them, to cozy up on the sofa to watch TV, to plant butterfly kisses on his head, to buy small inexpensive gifts which actually held much sentimental meaning, to go on a date. It was all pretty great. Like really great. Like, wow, holding a man that I really care about or having him hold me is amazing. And falling asleep with a guy....sign me up.

My words are failing me today, I can tell. Sorry gang. Perhaps this is what happens when one trudges over the same territory day after week after month after year. Perhaps my assumption is this: The weight of being gay and dealing with the stigma and pondering if God finds it acceptable and wondering if I will find someone to love is so heavy, that I occasionally wonder if I should just go try the ex-gay thing and see what happens. It has to be easier than this life of mine now.

The Prayer

I watched this. I cried a river.

If you like Celine Dion (I do) and Andrea Bocelli (I do) and ballads (I really do), check this out.

Of the many prayers I could offer on Christmas, this one seemed best. Merry Christmas, friends.



I pray you'll be our eyes
And watch us where we go
And help us to be wise
In times when we don't know

Let this be our prayer
As we go our way
Lead us to a place
Guide us with your grace
To a place where we'll be safe

La luce che to dai
I pray we'll find your light
Nel cuore restero
And hold it in our hearts
A ricordarchi che
When stars go out each night
L'eterna stella sei
Nella mia preghiera
Let this be our prayer
Quanta fede c'e
When shadows fill our day
Lead us to a place
Guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe.

Sognamo un mondo senza piu violenza
Un mondo di giustizia e di speranza
Ognuno dia la mano al suo vicino
Simbolo di pace e di fraternita

La forza che ci dai
We ask that life be kind
E'il desiderio che
And watch us from above
Ognuno trovi amore
We hope each soul will find
Intorno e dentro a se
Another soul to love

Let this be our prayer
Let this be our prayer
Just like every child
Just like every child

Needs to find a place,
Guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe
E la fede che
Hai acceso in noi
Sento che ci salvera

I Remember, Part 5

I need to address something less pleasant today.  It has been eating away at me for 4 years, and I need to share.

Last year I embarked on something of a journey of memories, trying to make sense of some of my past.  They are just little memories that I had hoped would help me see a bit more clearly and hopefully give me a connection to someone out there who might say, "Yeah, you are not alone.  I felt that too."  You will find all those entries here:  Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; and Part 4.

But now I need to address Part 5:

It was September of 2004, over four years ago, when I made a decision.  Thirty years old.  Surfing porn--mostly the gay variety--in my tiny apartment.  Isolated.  Lonely.  And about to attend the wedding of my final college friend to be married.  Earlier in the year, I had had a fascinating conversation with a work friend about the wild oats she had sown over time, and that while she was much more restrained now, that she really did not regret what she had done.

So I made this decision: I was going to go experiment sexually with guys.  But the precondition was that it would only last for 4 months, until the end of 2004, and then I would stop.

I find myself regretting that decision, and yet it is hard to explain why.  Somewhere in my mind was this idea that I was still going to be married to a woman someday, and have children, and a simple life in the suburbs.  It was going to happen, and I just needed to continue to trust and wait on the Lord to bring her along.  And I also held pretty strong convictions about sex before marriage, in that I was not going to go there.  But somehow I rationalized that if I messed around with guys, it did not really count and I could continue to carry around my virginity as a prized possession.  

So I started using websites heavily, no longer just looking at guys but attempting to contact them.  I quickly learned that not all guys where what they seemed, but I managed to find some super nice guys--two actually--who where patient and understanding with my inexperience at everything sexual and helped me along a bit.

Since you did not stop by here for a homemade porn story, I will skip over the juicy details.  I never did anything which made me uncomfortable.  For the first time in my 30-year life, I had experienced naked closeness with another man.  And at risk of plagarizing or even defiling the creation story, "It was good."

Yes, I had some guilt and shame.  No, I couldn't tell ANYONE what I had done.  But it wasn't bad, and I actually fell for one of those guys and suffered through my first real broken heart (another long story for another post).

I am so stuck with that idea that I made this 4-month decision 4 years ago.  I promised myself I would sow some wild gay oats for 4 months, and then head back to the straight and narrow.  I broke my own promise.  What if I had kept my promise to myself?  What if I had decided to head back to Straight-ville?

My words are not doing me justice right now, because I am having trouble expressing my true thoughts around this.  I think I am asking, Would a person with a gay sexual orientation make such a promise to themselves?  Or is this more indicitive of a person with a straight sexual orientation who "wasn't gettin' any?"  Was I playing the system, holding onto a straight orientation but cheating myself in the process?  Was I confused?  Did giving myself license to "gay it up" for a while lead to all the heartache in my head and in this blog?

I have said before that I was not with all these woman for my entire life and then decided to go fool around.  In fact, I have been on very few dates in my life, I have never steadily dated a woman, never had a girlfriend (the hand-written will-you-be-my-girlfriend note I passed to Rachel in 9th grade does not count), and honestly, I have never even romantically kissed a woman.  Not once.  Not in my thirty-plus years.  How pathetic is that?

I spend so much time arguing with myself that if I had just dated girls, and kissed them, or if I did now, that the confusion over my orientation would fall away because I would see that girls are not so yucky after all.  I would have the confidence to go be straight.  And suddenly my desires for a woman's body would bloom.  Maybe the Journeyman doesn't know what he's missing?

But do straight guys honestly cuddle up with another man and think, "Wow, this quiet masculine moment between us is amazing.  I could stare into his eyes for a long time, and touch his face, and run my hands through his hair, and dispense with anything overly sexual involving genitals and be really really content and at peace right now?"

So I am lost between a homosexual world that I do not fully understand, which is marked with trouble and prejudice and even a sense that I may never find a man for me, and a heterosexual world that I have never experienced in the first place, perhaps out of lack of desire or perhaps out of lack of confidence or perhaps even just plain fear.

But my 4 month experiment has now stretched beyond 4 years.  Has it brought happiness?  Maybe some.  But has it brought confusion?  You bet.  And hurt?  That too.  And perhaps a sense of hopelessness?  Yeah, that came too.

I'm going to stop here, but I think I need to root around in this subject a bit more in another post.  Thanks for letting me think out loud.

Not to worry; Still here

Not to worry; I'm still here.

I have been buried under just a bit of emotion, but mostly under Christmas shopping and work and school and a small home remodeling project and some unnerving job news. Overall, I'm hanging in there. Hope to be back soon with more tales from the journey.

This is an All-Play

OK, gang. Call me a comment whore if you need to, but I do honestly want to get some feedback on this one. So if you have any advice wisdom or other words, anything at all, drop in and leave a comment.

I have really had to wrestle lately with the damn closet door, and how open I want to or care to be. Remember, I still struggle with my sexuality at times, and yet I want to live authentically with the people in my life. For several years, I have quietly and subtly pulled the door shut from the inside, almost able to hear the creaking in the unoiled door hinge. Most times, I have no appetite or strength to defend myself or "my chosen lifestyle." I just want to say, "This attraction to guys thing is a part of me" and not get berated or tossed into the middle of a laying-on-of-hands ceremony. (And yes, that practically happened to me once when I miscalculated and came out to someone not prepared to hear it.)

Yet, because I have pulled the door shut to an extent, I have lost many friends anyway. This is not because they explicitly rejected me, but rather because I snuck off and saved them the trouble. I made assumptions about how they would react and idly watched the friendship die.

So....to what extent is the closet killing me and my relationships?

Some people know about my sexuality, but I have been quite calculating lately about who knows what. Or at least I have convinced myself I have control of who knows what about me. On the other hand, someone who is my age and has never brought a girlfriend around might be fooling fewer people than I think. So I am not in an air-tight closet all alone; I trust a lot of people around me. But I have a big challenge coming out to those who are left, which is a large group of church folks and some family that occassionally has a hay-day telling gay jokes.

One thing I have heard other gay folks say is that they feared coming out because it was almost something they could not take back. Once it is said out loud, publically, for anyone to hear, there was a sense that they had been labeled and assumptions made about them.

To be called on the carpet and be told I am going to hell and that I need to read Romans 1 (always said as if I obviously have never even heard of the Bible) are not going to be pleasant for me to handle. I do not want a fight or a debate or a lengthy time answering closed-ended questions. I am not up for a fight; I am up for an honest friendship.

So I am left swinging on this trapeze, my knees hooked over a bar swaying back and forth over the arena, knowing that I cannot stay here for too much longer. And I know the way off is to let go of the bar that now holds me up, and fly though the air un assisted, hoping the person promising to catch me by the wrists and swing me over to the safety of a secure platform will really do so. Or will it be a lengthy and horrifying drop to the floor, with the impending reality that the approaching collision with the ground will cripple me?

Thankfully, I had coffee with a great friend today who I usually see once a year. I share a tremendous amount of my doings and feelings, and he helps me process them. He tells me I am different every time we talk, each time for the better. He says I am becoming courageous in my decisions and in my progress on this journey. Today, he said the same thing. And I think even the mere authorship of a post like this should tell me something. I am debating doing the "publically out" thing.

Attractive guys turn me on. Intimacy with guys is something I like. The touch of a man is wonderful, and the masculinity of being held or holding in a quiet moment is hard to capture with words. These things I know. Since forever, I would stop in the mall kiosks selling next-year's calendars and walk right past the scantily-clothed girls draped over cars seeking the Chippendales, hoping no one would notice if I picked it up and looked at the shirtless hunks on the back.

Do I explain that to someone? And how? Is there really freedom outside the closet? Or is there just a lot more people with a lot more questions which will make me feel like a second-best citizen? For those of you who made the journey, what happens on the outside of the closet? Was it painful? Honestly. Tell me. Even if there was joy in being open and authentic, was it all pain-free?

Here comes the audience participation; this is an All-Play. Raise your hand and hit the Comment button. Your turn....

A break

I've been all serious for the last several entries. I need a break in the action to just say, WOW!! Robert Gant is a beautiful man.  
Yep...I'm still gay!  

An Odd Prayer

Dear God,

We have not spent a great deal of time together lately. I found other things to occupy myself, mostly because I am scared. I am scared that you don't like me very much. I am scared that you care for me only because you have to. I mean, isn't this in the rules somewhere that God is supposed to do things for people, regardless of how much they deserve it or are grateful for it?

Those guys who represent you on TV seem to imply I don't have much going for me: gay; not much of a church guy; lonely; don't pray very much; don't tithe. They spend an extraordinary amount of time begging me to sow a seed--which is always to them--so that I can open the doors of blessing in my life. Is this how it works, God? Are you like a cosmic jukebox? I insert my money, and great things come? And they say I have lots of "flow-blockers," a term I heard repeated in person by one of my former pastors. Because I have low self-esteem and I occassionally surf porn and have not picked out that root of homosexual attractions--like it is an awful planter's wart--that you can't do much for me. I blocked the flow. I'm sorry.

Amazing to me is the idea floating around Christendom that so much of how you relate to me happens because of what I do and don't do. That's strange to me. If you are all-powerful and all-wonderful and all-loving, then do you honestly wait for me to make a move before you do something too? That's a lot of pressure on me, or at least I feel like it is. And that's why I scared of you. Because I don't think I am holy enough or reverent enough or hetero enough or (insert your own adjective here) enough to bring a smile to your face.

I am scared that I am going to lose my job soon, but we have been over this many many times. I am scared about being a loser. I am scared about my car that needs $1,300 worth of work. I am scared about having trouble setting goals. You have seen me try; I know you have. You have seen me set out on my Believe Project to get some of these things done and make some direction for myself. But setting goals does not come naturally to me. I can do what I am told, and do it well, but deciding what to do? Way harder. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it, but I need some direction.

I even struggle with tiny things in life, like socks and decorating and heat. Between you and me, God, you may have given me an attraction to guys (though whether that came from you or from elsewhere is still a bit of a mystery), but I did not get the expected accompaniment of interior decorating skills or ability to select nice clothes. I love free T-shirts. I hate $100 pairs of jeans. So my home is sparce and my closet desperately needs a visit from Tim Gunn or maybe the Queer Eye guys--ALL of them.

I need to update my resume, but I don't know how. I need to buy some black pants but I cringe at the thought. I need new tires, but they are a lot of money.

And relationships. God. Hello. Are you serious? I have zero idea what I'm doing here. I spend enough energy being comfortable with me, and then some guy happens by that I really enjoy, and I get totally discombobulated. I could put a good foot forward, but I know I will never have a solid relationship unless I can be 100% honest about who I am and the struggles I have, no matter how embarrassing. For all the talk the gay community often does to the straight world about acceptance and diversity and uniqueness, I am not as sure the gay community wants diversity WITHIN its community. Better to have a bunch of hot jockster models in a 6-page Mens Health spread. But me, a stocky guy with nice eyes but hair on my chest (gasp!!) and a weak chinline (oh the horror!!), I don't feel so much like I belong.

So I'm trying, God. Sort of. I'm not trying to get to church, but I am trying to reconnect with you. When I started figuring out I am gay I had to throw away sooooooo many assumptions about you and religion and Christianity. I had to start over, and it was tough. But maybe I will make it through, maybe. Once I get the car fixed and the resume done and some goals made and the clothes updated and something on my walls and some idea why my furnace runs too much some new socks and some idea of what a relationship would be like....then maybe.

But could I make a small request? Could you show up a little before I get all that figured out? It is too much for me right now.

How I long to crawl up into your arms, find that spot on your chest where my head would fit nicely, and nuzzle up under your chin, listening for your heartbeat, and knowing it beats for me. I don't know if it is reverent for a gay guy to think of You like this, but it would be nice.

Maybe I am not as bad off as I sound. Day-to-day, I am doing OK? But I feel the pressure building, and I sometimes wonder if I can keep up. But so long as you keep appearing in strange places (like you did this weekend, in my kitchen), then I will try to keep going.

I need to go now. Maybe to write a resume and maybe to the mall to look at shoes (you know I haven't purchased shoes of any kind for at least 3 years.) But if you hear this, and aren't too disappointed in me, I would love to hear back.

Thanks, and Amen.

Conversations from a Time Gone By

I re-read an e-mail conversation with a dear friend from my church family that took place over 3 years ago. (How could it possibly be that long ago?) Though I was in a terrible emotional place then, I did have some profound--and controversial--things to say about myself, God, faith and church.

They're worth repeating, because I still see true wisdom in what both of us wrote, and I wanted to share. That's me in the black text, and her responding in blue. (And no, the photo is not us!)



I'm so very hard on myself. I administer pretty regular mental and emotional beatings to myself. I think so little of myself. I've had 3 gay friends independently say to me recently "You've got to start realizing what a great guy you are. You are WAY too hard on yourself." I feel like a complete failure most times. I'll do OK, but it's still a daily battle that I don't think I'll ever win. People who have gone before me tell me this is very normal and even familiar to them. They tell me it eventually gets better. Let's hope so.


You are soooo hard on yourself. I know that you are an amazing person as well as everyone who meets you. I am so glad though that you are not hiding (well as much as you used to) and you are being proactive about just figuring out who you are and what God is going to do with your life.

I'm challenging myself so much with regard to my faith and my church. I'm realizing how much tradition has short-changed the church and dumbed-down the gospel. I hope not to be struck by lightning, but I'm beginning to think the gospel is not the sanitary neat outline-driven academic exercise the church has made it into. I think of our church: For a few moments we sing about how amazing and beyond comprehension God is, and 20 minutes later hear a sermon proclaiming God's absolute truth on this or that. If God is so huge and beyond comprehension that we don't get Him, then how do we get to a neat outline about the unquestionable truths about Him? It's like a strange infomercial: Boil down the unfathomable into 3 points in 20 minutes. The offering plate will be by soon to take your $19.95. Free shipping and handling.

Can't we simply say we don't get it all?

I love your thoughts on faith. I think that faith is never neat or tidy. Just look at the church body for the most part..it's messy...why? because people are messy and untidy. The thing is that God continues to move in us even with all the mess. That my friend is grace, love, and hope.

Then I asked a question about her reaction to my sharing my gay orientation, and she wrote...


I don't ever want to put a label on you. Because you are more than just being gay...there is soooo much more to you. You are a wonderful friend and a great listening ear. You love and cherish people for where they are at rather than what masks we put on for the day.


You are important to me. I am proud that you seek God in all of this. That you struggle and that you are communicating with people who want to love you,whether or not they are struggling with the same thing. People who hate"homosexuality" have no clue what that means or what that looks like. Most of the time they don't even know anyone who is gay. You are not the first friend I have had who is gay and I don't think you will be my last.



Some tremendous people have been part of my journey. I am thankful for them all, but today, especially for this particular woman of beauty who walked with me when I really needed a friend.

Olbermann on Eight

So far, I have tended to steer mostly clear of the Proposition 8 dialog. The conversation can get so divisive so fast that I usually just can't handle it. Besides, I know I have enough growing and enough work to do for myself before I expend a great deal of energy in this debate. (Had I lived in California, Arizona or Florida, I might have been more emphatic about this.)

Nevertheless, here is a very well-said piece from Keith Olbermann of MSNBC. I'm not his biggest fan by any means, but this commentary is very well done and worth 7 minutes of your time.

Believe

I just spent the last 30 minutes crying.

To explain why I am crying is a bit embarrassing and even a little convoluted, but it relates to this portion of my journey which is headed somewhere new.

I express emotion quite easily, and this time it was manifest while watching a YouTube video...one from the Shamu show at SeaWorld, of all things. You see, I have been to that very show in person twice in the last year, and I am perfectly capable of sitting in the bleachers at that show and bawling my eyes out. While the mother next to me removes cotton candy from the hair of her 4 year old and the camera-laden tourist takes enough Shamu pictures to fill an encyclopedia, I cry.

If you have been to this show, then you know it is more than an orca whale jumping around. Actually, the whales do little more than that, but while Shamu leaps and splashes in his pool, the stadium fills with music and fancy video displays which tell the loose story of a small boy kayaking into the ocean for an encounter with a killer whale. And the deep voiced narrator takes you though "the moment in everyone's life when you begin to BELIEVE."

And that's about the spot where I could no longer subtly keep the tears in my eyes and I began to cry.

I was outside in the sun, a place I love.

I was watching a beautiful, powerful, graceful creature swim, a sight I love.

I was listening to music, a sound I love.

I was inspired, a feeling I love, but unfortunately have truly experienced far too few times. That was months ago, but watching it on YouTube brought it all back.



This week, I began a project, with the name quite shamelessly swiped from Shamu himself, simply called BELIEVE. The project represents my desire--and more importantly my need--to be restored and to move foward and to be whole and to begin believing again. There is so much to this for me, so much at stake, yet my project remains somewhat unstructured on purpose, allowing it to evolve and grow and change.

I keep coming back to that word: BELIEVE. Packed within are so many levels of change:

Believe in my story.

Believe in God.

Believe in change.

Believe in progress.

Believe in this journey.

Believe in me.

This is no school project, yet I am giving myself homework: There will be some real honest and tangible products that will come out of this for me. I am working toward several goals, some emotional, some spiritual, and some physical, all inspired by 7 sequenced letters which have been floating around within me for months and even years. BELIEVE. I don't even know what all will come, other than to say that today I have a little bit of hope and a little bit of courage and I'm going to run with it for now. That hope came from some incredible friends who don't even know they gave it to me yet, and from a killer whale who will probably never know.


I know some of what is coming, and that may just unfold on the pages of this blog. I will try to chronicle what comes next. For now, I will....

come touch the face of a mystery,
call in your heart to live,
to breathe,

BELIEVE.

Voting

It's an amazing thing, this voting that we do. Every time we vote, but especially during the presidential years, I well up with pride at our country and the way we govern ourselves.

Today as I wandered around my city, I saw so many people with small oval "I Voted" stickers on their clothing. And that made me happy. All day long, I have been considering that millions of my fellow citizens are standing in line, darkening little ballot bubbles or punching out chads (wow, I hope that isn't done any longer) or touching screens to voice their opinion on who should represent them on the local, state or national level.

It's amazing to me, that the people I work with, the people I ran past, the people on the bus, the people I pass in traffic all get a voice today. Hopefully an equal voice. This is the way we govern ourselves, and I am impressed.

True, I will not agree with how each person votes, but I will take pride in the idea that many people do. The system is flawed in some ways, and I have heard of local allegations that some unusual votes may have been cast here. But the idea that we get a voice, that we are allowed--even encouraged--to express that voice just excites me.

What we vote on sometimes confounds me. That some are going to vote to remove rights in California, and write that into the state constitution, in the form of Proposition 8 confuses me. I do not know that it is appropriate to vote on rights. Our democracy tends to value and protect the rights of the minorities; we ought not allow a majority vote to determine rights. And that is as far as I care to go on voicing an opinion on the issues.

So thanks, America, for making me proud today. Regardless of whether the outcomes meet with what I hope for, I am amazed we can express our voices in this incredible way. What an honor.

Wordle

I just found this fun little website called wordle.net.

So never one to pass up some fun little thingy like this, I created a Wordle based on this blog. I would not have even posted it here, until I saw an incredibly beautiful theme come through using the three predominant words in the center: Still Just Love.

If you know me--and one or two of you do--you know this is me. I don't have it down pat, but I sure do try.

Still Just Love.

Brilliant!

Hang with me

Two and a half months.....and I haven't said a darn thing. And even before that it had gotten a little sparse.

Some stuff has happened here, stuff I'm trying to sort through. Hang with me a bit; I'll be back soon.

Olympics

OK, gang, I'm still here. It got a little crazy there for a while, and at one point I had given up. I honestly hung my head so low that I had given up any shot at happiness or closure or comfort. I just assumed it wasn't meant for me.

Fortunately, the sun came up about 3 days later and I'm trudging again. It will all come out soon enough. Just stay tuned.

For the moment, I need to just be frivolous and light-hearted, so I pass along this quite disappointing Olympic news from OutSports: Beach volleyball: Guys, keep your shirts on

I love the Olympics. I love 'em, love 'em, love 'em. Expect to find me parked in front of the TV for the next two weeks cheering on the best athletes in sports, and even some of the not-so-best who are there simply to show they can proudly complete. I am watching for those magical stories birthed only in the Olympics. There are guys like Derek Redmond, who finished last in his 400m track heat in Barcelona, but came away with one of the greatest Olympic stories ever, finishing his race with his dad.

Or there is Eric Moussambani, who literally swam alone in his 100m heat in Sydney, while the crowd coronated him an Olympic hero, with a time more than double the medal contenders.

I am ready for a little inspiration. Bring on the Games.