It has been over two months since I met Sean. It has been really wonderful. I was so full of doubts about the relationship before it really began. I had a whole list of reasons why it wouldn't work. But it has worked. I thought it would be nice if I shared some things about him and my relationship. Its been awhile since I've talked about really personal things.
Funny thing... he actually found me online. Through this very blog. He just wanted to meet people and make some friends because he had just come out and knew no one. So I invited him to game night with some of my friends.
We can talk for hours. One thing we've done quite a bit is go to the Broadway theater to see indie films. Awesome. His family is amazing. I practically lived at his house while I was in the process of moving to Salt Lake and his parents are some of the best people I know. We've had countless dinners with his family. We've gone back-country hiking with his parents in Zion National Park. He is so selfless and never ceases to complement me and encourage me. He isn't Mormon, but his whole extended family is and he grew up here and wanted to be Mormon growing up, so he knows enough about it to understand on a pretty deep level things that I have dealt with. His mom's cousin was Stewart Matis.
It is interesting that even in such a open, non-religious, pro-gay rights household, he grew up to become a self-hating Christian. Suicide was definitely something he contemplated before coming out. We share a lot of similar experiences in coming to terms with our sexuality.
He's in Australia and will be until the middle of November for a study abroad. I miss him fiercely. I went with his parents to see him off. We went up to the security check-point together to say goodbye. It had been a rough couple days for Sean and saying goodbye was pretty emotional for him. If we lived in a better world, our goodbye kiss would have been more substantial, but we settled for a quick kiss as to not cause a scene at the SLC airport. I regret not feeling like we could embrace that moment. We sacrificed it for the comfort of others.
It sounds dramatic to say that we live in fear... but the fact is, we do. Anytime we are in public, their is this ball of fear inside that prevents us from being ourselves completely. We know that if we are going to hold hands, we are likely going to receive some kind of punishment from society. It could be something as small as staring and pointing or something as huge as verbal and even physical abuse. We are both willing to take on a little risk. It is worth it. But we still hold back plenty.
It seems crazy now to think that I would ever consider a life of loneliness. That I would sacrifice a loving, supportive relationship because a religion cites 7 passages of scripture and says it means God hates fags. Sean is an amazing support to me. He loves me and I love him. We care deeply for each others well being. We feel whole together. Together, all the bad things in life fall to the wayside. Being in a loving relationship makes me look forward with eagerness for the day I marry the man I choose to spend the rest of my life with. To build a life with. How dare anyone cite God for the reason they try to prevent me from achieving that level of happiness.
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
26 July 2011
17 November 2010
PE: My Story Part 5 - BYU
So now we find ourselves in January 2007 when I begin my schooling at BYU. I moved in with my MTC companion just a few blocks south of campus and was ready to face my next phase of life (or so I thought). Neither of us had cars, but we were pretty fresh off the mission and walking around Provo was like a nice stroll in the park compared to 10 hours on our feet in a single day walking around our areas in Asia.
Winter semester isn't typically when people begin their year at school. Usually they start in the fall. So both of us were moving into a ward that had been established over the past semester. Can you say "fresh meat?" No joke- that is exactly how we were treated. We were the new boys that all the girls had crushes on. Here I am, never having any real sense of self-esteem, and totally clueless about girls- just looking to have a good time at college.
I'd be invited to this or that and if it sounded fun, I'd go. It wasn't based on how cute the girls in that apartment were. But it got weird when after hanging out girls would thank me "so much" for coming and hanging out with them. As if I were gracing them with my presence. This blew me away. I guess it was kind of scary. Who were these people?
Well it wasn't long before girls started becoming a little more aggressive in making sure I understood that they were interested. But I sure wasn't. I blamed it on post-missionary syndrome. I was still adjusting to life in America. Eventually though, my roommate began dating. He would come home and talk to my other roommate about his date. They'd swap stories. I'd listen.
I just kept myself busy with a full schedule of school and work, and time passed by, but my "post-missionary syndrome" didn't. It wasn't long before I had to stop using that as an excuse and start at least attempting to date. I tended to like the sporty, independent, smart girls who didn't feel the need to always "look pretty." It also helped if I was never quite sure if they liked me. So yeah, I went on dates. And as long as the girl never showed obvious signs of liking me, I'd keep dating. Problem was, I would never show obvious signs of liking her. The first girl I dated probably got fed up after 3 months of us hanging out and me never making a move. I think I held her hand once after two months.
It is so embarrassing to think of it. I had to plan exactly how I'd be able to hold her hand. Movie. Check. Blanket (that I brought to HER house to watch the movie- as if that were subtle). Check. I even planned what part of the movie would be best to "make the move." Then I sat there stiff going over the action I would take over and over in my mind. My hands were sweaty. I felt sick. But when the moment came, with great effort and awkwardness, I grabbed her hand. Trying hard to make it seem natural- making sure not to look. And just when I thought the most uncomfortable part was over, I realized how uncomfortable it was to hold her hand. She started rubbing her thumb on my hand. In my head I was thinking "what is she doing? Why do people hold hands? This is so strange."
But that was only phase one. My roommates had been talking that night up. They wanted me to kiss her. So for the rest of the movie I was worrying about how my hand was sweaty and how and when I'd kiss her, and where. I picked a time in the movie that I thought would be perfect. Well, turns out she wasn't too into the movie because she fell asleep on my shoulder. But that wouldn't do! If she didn't see the part of the movie I had picked that would be perfect for the kiss, I would fail! So when that part was about to come- I kissed her on the... HEAD... the HAIR to be exact. I told her, "oh, I love this part!" She kind of roused, but I was so devastated by the awkward hair kiss that there was no way I could attempt another. Plus, I could at least say I kissed her so my roommates would be satisfied, and that was good enough for me. I just wanted to get out of there.
Yikes. That pretty much explains my dating experiences. It was SO unnatural for me. SO uncomfortable. I was forcing myself to go through the motions of what society had taught me were appropriate when you like a girl you are on a date with. But any time a girl obviously liked me, I ran. I disappeared. It would only last as long as my unsurity of her feelings for me. The moment I knew she was into me, that relationship ended. Now, I did eventually kiss a girl (on the lips even). It would have never happened if she wasn't so forward about kissing. It was just about as awkward as the story above. After kissing, I had this sense of satisfaction. As if I had proved to myself I was straight. That I was normal. That I was exactly how every other guy was. At the same time I thought- "why the hell do people kiss?" I just didn't get it. I mean, I knew that's what two people did when they liked each other, but is that the only reason? Simply because society had determined what kissing was a symbol of? People talked about kissing as if they enjoyed it. I mean, some of my roommates would do it for extended periods of time even! WHY?
That was my last dating experience with a girl. During those first 3 years or so, I would decide to try to date again every 6 months or so. When it didn't work out, I just quit for months at a time. In the meantime I was loosing my spirituality. My secret outlet was pornography. I knew I couldn't ever (nor did I want to) act on my feelings that I had learned to bury. But somehow I still needed some kind of thing to channel these buried emotions towards. And gay porn was easy to explain away. "It doesn't mean I am gay... it is just an addiction. I just respect girls too much to watch them in those types of situations. Looking a girls would be worse- disrespectful. It's just because I value women so much more than the normal guy." In reality though- images of women made me uncomfortable and a little grossed out. Don't get me wrong, the female body doesn't gross me out... but sexual things involving females grossed me out.
I'd talk to the bishop about my pornography problems, but I never mentioned that I was looking at gay porn. Bishops just assume what kind of porn you are looking at and never seem to ask. So although I was trying to overcome it, I still felt like I was hiding something. That I was being dishonest. And I could never say the words "gay porn" to a bishop. That would be incredibly embarrassing and uncomfortable. Plus he might think I'm gay! Which I certainly wasn't (haha). I just thought porn addiction was porn addiction no matter what type you looked at, so it didn't matter. But no matter what I tried, I would always come back to it. It was something I just couldn't seem to get rid of. I became hopeless.
Well, this battle went on and I became more and more detached from church and God. My misery was ever increasing. My friends were dating and getting married and I couldn't see how that was ever going to be a possibility for me. I didn't get to enjoy dating like most do. I didn't get to have those kinds of relationships. I was dying inside.
Eventually, to help with the sadness and guilt and everything I started to go dancing at clubs with some friends every now and then. One of my friends who was an experienced drinker in the past, introduced me to some drinks. So every now and then I'd go dancing and drink to forget my problems and just have a moment where I could enjoy my wretched life. I don't want you to think I became a drunk. I didn't. It was only on the few occasions that I went dancing. But those nights saved me. They were the only times that I felt something like happiness. Counterfeit or not, it was a much better feeling then the one I lived with.
Eventually though, I felt I needed to get myself on track and clear up my life. That brings us to the beginning of this year- 2010. Hold on boys and girls, you are in for a wild ride.
Winter semester isn't typically when people begin their year at school. Usually they start in the fall. So both of us were moving into a ward that had been established over the past semester. Can you say "fresh meat?" No joke- that is exactly how we were treated. We were the new boys that all the girls had crushes on. Here I am, never having any real sense of self-esteem, and totally clueless about girls- just looking to have a good time at college.
I'd be invited to this or that and if it sounded fun, I'd go. It wasn't based on how cute the girls in that apartment were. But it got weird when after hanging out girls would thank me "so much" for coming and hanging out with them. As if I were gracing them with my presence. This blew me away. I guess it was kind of scary. Who were these people?
Well it wasn't long before girls started becoming a little more aggressive in making sure I understood that they were interested. But I sure wasn't. I blamed it on post-missionary syndrome. I was still adjusting to life in America. Eventually though, my roommate began dating. He would come home and talk to my other roommate about his date. They'd swap stories. I'd listen.
I just kept myself busy with a full schedule of school and work, and time passed by, but my "post-missionary syndrome" didn't. It wasn't long before I had to stop using that as an excuse and start at least attempting to date. I tended to like the sporty, independent, smart girls who didn't feel the need to always "look pretty." It also helped if I was never quite sure if they liked me. So yeah, I went on dates. And as long as the girl never showed obvious signs of liking me, I'd keep dating. Problem was, I would never show obvious signs of liking her. The first girl I dated probably got fed up after 3 months of us hanging out and me never making a move. I think I held her hand once after two months.
It is so embarrassing to think of it. I had to plan exactly how I'd be able to hold her hand. Movie. Check. Blanket (that I brought to HER house to watch the movie- as if that were subtle). Check. I even planned what part of the movie would be best to "make the move." Then I sat there stiff going over the action I would take over and over in my mind. My hands were sweaty. I felt sick. But when the moment came, with great effort and awkwardness, I grabbed her hand. Trying hard to make it seem natural- making sure not to look. And just when I thought the most uncomfortable part was over, I realized how uncomfortable it was to hold her hand. She started rubbing her thumb on my hand. In my head I was thinking "what is she doing? Why do people hold hands? This is so strange."
But that was only phase one. My roommates had been talking that night up. They wanted me to kiss her. So for the rest of the movie I was worrying about how my hand was sweaty and how and when I'd kiss her, and where. I picked a time in the movie that I thought would be perfect. Well, turns out she wasn't too into the movie because she fell asleep on my shoulder. But that wouldn't do! If she didn't see the part of the movie I had picked that would be perfect for the kiss, I would fail! So when that part was about to come- I kissed her on the... HEAD... the HAIR to be exact. I told her, "oh, I love this part!" She kind of roused, but I was so devastated by the awkward hair kiss that there was no way I could attempt another. Plus, I could at least say I kissed her so my roommates would be satisfied, and that was good enough for me. I just wanted to get out of there.
Yikes. That pretty much explains my dating experiences. It was SO unnatural for me. SO uncomfortable. I was forcing myself to go through the motions of what society had taught me were appropriate when you like a girl you are on a date with. But any time a girl obviously liked me, I ran. I disappeared. It would only last as long as my unsurity of her feelings for me. The moment I knew she was into me, that relationship ended. Now, I did eventually kiss a girl (on the lips even). It would have never happened if she wasn't so forward about kissing. It was just about as awkward as the story above. After kissing, I had this sense of satisfaction. As if I had proved to myself I was straight. That I was normal. That I was exactly how every other guy was. At the same time I thought- "why the hell do people kiss?" I just didn't get it. I mean, I knew that's what two people did when they liked each other, but is that the only reason? Simply because society had determined what kissing was a symbol of? People talked about kissing as if they enjoyed it. I mean, some of my roommates would do it for extended periods of time even! WHY?
That was my last dating experience with a girl. During those first 3 years or so, I would decide to try to date again every 6 months or so. When it didn't work out, I just quit for months at a time. In the meantime I was loosing my spirituality. My secret outlet was pornography. I knew I couldn't ever (nor did I want to) act on my feelings that I had learned to bury. But somehow I still needed some kind of thing to channel these buried emotions towards. And gay porn was easy to explain away. "It doesn't mean I am gay... it is just an addiction. I just respect girls too much to watch them in those types of situations. Looking a girls would be worse- disrespectful. It's just because I value women so much more than the normal guy." In reality though- images of women made me uncomfortable and a little grossed out. Don't get me wrong, the female body doesn't gross me out... but sexual things involving females grossed me out.
I'd talk to the bishop about my pornography problems, but I never mentioned that I was looking at gay porn. Bishops just assume what kind of porn you are looking at and never seem to ask. So although I was trying to overcome it, I still felt like I was hiding something. That I was being dishonest. And I could never say the words "gay porn" to a bishop. That would be incredibly embarrassing and uncomfortable. Plus he might think I'm gay! Which I certainly wasn't (haha). I just thought porn addiction was porn addiction no matter what type you looked at, so it didn't matter. But no matter what I tried, I would always come back to it. It was something I just couldn't seem to get rid of. I became hopeless.
Well, this battle went on and I became more and more detached from church and God. My misery was ever increasing. My friends were dating and getting married and I couldn't see how that was ever going to be a possibility for me. I didn't get to enjoy dating like most do. I didn't get to have those kinds of relationships. I was dying inside.
Eventually, to help with the sadness and guilt and everything I started to go dancing at clubs with some friends every now and then. One of my friends who was an experienced drinker in the past, introduced me to some drinks. So every now and then I'd go dancing and drink to forget my problems and just have a moment where I could enjoy my wretched life. I don't want you to think I became a drunk. I didn't. It was only on the few occasions that I went dancing. But those nights saved me. They were the only times that I felt something like happiness. Counterfeit or not, it was a much better feeling then the one I lived with.
Eventually though, I felt I needed to get myself on track and clear up my life. That brings us to the beginning of this year- 2010. Hold on boys and girls, you are in for a wild ride.
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