And for all of you Jamba Juice Junkies:
http://www.jambasummer.com/freesmoothie/thankyou3.htm
It's only good through next week, so buy one today!
29 June 2007
Advice #3: Have Patience
I almost forgot about my Advice series. I'll try to pick it up a little more. The subject of patience has come up in my comments on several other blogs lately, so I thought I would try and talk about it here in a little more detail.
Patience is a virtue ... that I don't have.
That used to be one my plethora of mottos. And it used to be so very, very true. I have a fair amount of Scottish blood in me, and it shines through. Growing up I had an anger fuse that was about the length of an amoeba. Anything and everything would set me off. Just think of Groundskeeper Willy on The Simpsons, but without the red hair and the beard.
The lucky thing is that I've always been a fairly scrawny person, so I could never actually do anything with my anger. I never got into fights or broke things. But, what I would do is take it out on my family, both my parents and siblings. I feel so sorry for my parents that they had to raise such a little turd. And, I had very estranged relations with my brother that is closest to me in age because he was younger and smaller than me, so I used to pound on him. It's taken many, many years to finally become friends with him.
Carry that anger on into adulthood. Since I returned home from my mission 13 years ago (egads, I'm old!) there has been this constant pressure to get married and start a family. The pressure has come from all directions: my family, church leaders, friends, and even myself. We all know the rule as laid forth in the D&C and preached repeatedly over the pulpit. We're supposed to get married to be able to obtain the highest level of the Celestial Kingdom. My being gay, and lack of ability to find a member of the female persuasion to attach myself to has been an unending source of anger for me.
Several years ago I had a horrible experience with my mom. She was being her normal, caring self and trying to counsel me on getting married and starting a family. This was before I came out to her. She was trying her best to do exactly what a parent should do, given the limited knowledge she had of what my life really was like. I snapped. I was on the phone with her and just could not stop yelling. Decades of pent-up rage and frustration all came spilling out in one fell swoop. It was a verbal massacre. She was devastated and hung up the phone crying. We didn't talk for several weeks after that.
I came to my senses and apologized for what I had done. She told me that she was just doing whatever she could because she wanted me to be happy. She was showing me love and concern, and I met it with verbal slap to the face. There are few things worse in this life than being rejected when you are trying to show love to someone.
That became a turning point of sorts for me. I did realize that she was just showing love, and I was completely out of line in my response. I was wrong to yell at her and disrespect her the way that I did. I felt bad about it then, and I still feel bad about it now. I decided that I needed to get control of my emotions and have more patience with people.
Even though I apologized to her back then, things weren't really smoothed out like I thought they were. That happened several years ago. About 4-5 months ago, after I came out to everyone, I was talking on the phone with my mom while driving home from work and she made reference to that experience and began to apologize to me for being such a bad mother. She said that after that happened she had always carried in her mind that somehow she had failed me as a mother because how could a good parent have made their child so angry. That just floored me. It was so painful. I could not believe that I had hurt her and that she had been carrying that around with her for all these years.
I think that is all finally smoothed out now. She understands where I was coming from at the time with being all alone in coping with my homosexuality. And I understand where she was coming from, being a parent who just wants the best for her child.
That was a horrible experience that lingered for many, many years. And that brings me to the point of this post. If I had been more patient with people who did not understand me fully, and had helped them to understand me, that whole thing never would have happened. There wouldn't have been years of mental turmoil that my mom went through, thinking that she had failed as a parent with me. Her suffering truly was all my fault for letting my anger get the best of me. I am ashamed of that.
Be patient. Be kind. Be loving. That is what we expect of them, so why not offer it in return?
Patience is a virtue ... that I don't have.
That used to be one my plethora of mottos. And it used to be so very, very true. I have a fair amount of Scottish blood in me, and it shines through. Growing up I had an anger fuse that was about the length of an amoeba. Anything and everything would set me off. Just think of Groundskeeper Willy on The Simpsons, but without the red hair and the beard.
The lucky thing is that I've always been a fairly scrawny person, so I could never actually do anything with my anger. I never got into fights or broke things. But, what I would do is take it out on my family, both my parents and siblings. I feel so sorry for my parents that they had to raise such a little turd. And, I had very estranged relations with my brother that is closest to me in age because he was younger and smaller than me, so I used to pound on him. It's taken many, many years to finally become friends with him.
Carry that anger on into adulthood. Since I returned home from my mission 13 years ago (egads, I'm old!) there has been this constant pressure to get married and start a family. The pressure has come from all directions: my family, church leaders, friends, and even myself. We all know the rule as laid forth in the D&C and preached repeatedly over the pulpit. We're supposed to get married to be able to obtain the highest level of the Celestial Kingdom. My being gay, and lack of ability to find a member of the female persuasion to attach myself to has been an unending source of anger for me.
Several years ago I had a horrible experience with my mom. She was being her normal, caring self and trying to counsel me on getting married and starting a family. This was before I came out to her. She was trying her best to do exactly what a parent should do, given the limited knowledge she had of what my life really was like. I snapped. I was on the phone with her and just could not stop yelling. Decades of pent-up rage and frustration all came spilling out in one fell swoop. It was a verbal massacre. She was devastated and hung up the phone crying. We didn't talk for several weeks after that.
I came to my senses and apologized for what I had done. She told me that she was just doing whatever she could because she wanted me to be happy. She was showing me love and concern, and I met it with verbal slap to the face. There are few things worse in this life than being rejected when you are trying to show love to someone.
That became a turning point of sorts for me. I did realize that she was just showing love, and I was completely out of line in my response. I was wrong to yell at her and disrespect her the way that I did. I felt bad about it then, and I still feel bad about it now. I decided that I needed to get control of my emotions and have more patience with people.
Even though I apologized to her back then, things weren't really smoothed out like I thought they were. That happened several years ago. About 4-5 months ago, after I came out to everyone, I was talking on the phone with my mom while driving home from work and she made reference to that experience and began to apologize to me for being such a bad mother. She said that after that happened she had always carried in her mind that somehow she had failed me as a mother because how could a good parent have made their child so angry. That just floored me. It was so painful. I could not believe that I had hurt her and that she had been carrying that around with her for all these years.
I think that is all finally smoothed out now. She understands where I was coming from at the time with being all alone in coping with my homosexuality. And I understand where she was coming from, being a parent who just wants the best for her child.
That was a horrible experience that lingered for many, many years. And that brings me to the point of this post. If I had been more patient with people who did not understand me fully, and had helped them to understand me, that whole thing never would have happened. There wouldn't have been years of mental turmoil that my mom went through, thinking that she had failed as a parent with me. Her suffering truly was all my fault for letting my anger get the best of me. I am ashamed of that.
Be patient. Be kind. Be loving. That is what we expect of them, so why not offer it in return?
27 June 2007
Rare Neurosis
What is it called when you have an irrational fear of dropping your cellphone into a storm drain as you walk past it?
I have that one. Every day that I go to work I walk past this storm drain and if my phone is in my hands I do a triple-check to make sure my fingers are adequately wrapped around it so that it doesn't pop out and fall into the dark abyss from whence it can not return. I know that it is irrational and wouldn't be an issue if I just put my phone in my pocket before I walked past the storm drain, but for some reason I have to carry my phone in my hand as I walk from the car to my office. Hmmm. Maybe I've said too much....
I'm sure none of you have any weird quirks. :P
I have that one. Every day that I go to work I walk past this storm drain and if my phone is in my hands I do a triple-check to make sure my fingers are adequately wrapped around it so that it doesn't pop out and fall into the dark abyss from whence it can not return. I know that it is irrational and wouldn't be an issue if I just put my phone in my pocket before I walked past the storm drain, but for some reason I have to carry my phone in my hand as I walk from the car to my office. Hmmm. Maybe I've said too much....
I'm sure none of you have any weird quirks. :P
26 June 2007
Top 10 Reasons to Vote for Mitt
Top 10 Reasons to vote for Mitt Romney
10. We can do away with these dumb secret ballots and manifest our support of the candidate "by the usual sign." And we can get rid of costly recounts by simply saying "opposed, if there be any."
9. The Secret Service could be renamed the Sacred Service and would have dark suits, sunglasses, earpieces, and CTR rings.
8. The vice president would be replaced by first and second counselors.
7. NASA could commission a satellite to "hie to Kolob".
6. At inaugural balls, everyone would have to dance a Book of Mormon apart.
5. All official government prayers could include the phrase "that we all can get home safely."
4. The President could not only explain things in Layman's terms, but also Lemuel's terms.
3. At his inauguration he would swear on the Bible "as far as it is translated correctly."
2. All foreign Policy statements would begin with "We Believe".
1. The presidential limo would be a black Suburban with a vanity plate: "RULDS2?"
10. We can do away with these dumb secret ballots and manifest our support of the candidate "by the usual sign." And we can get rid of costly recounts by simply saying "opposed, if there be any."
9. The Secret Service could be renamed the Sacred Service and would have dark suits, sunglasses, earpieces, and CTR rings.
8. The vice president would be replaced by first and second counselors.
7. NASA could commission a satellite to "hie to Kolob".
6. At inaugural balls, everyone would have to dance a Book of Mormon apart.
5. All official government prayers could include the phrase "that we all can get home safely."
4. The President could not only explain things in Layman's terms, but also Lemuel's terms.
3. At his inauguration he would swear on the Bible "as far as it is translated correctly."
2. All foreign Policy statements would begin with "We Believe".
1. The presidential limo would be a black Suburban with a vanity plate: "RULDS2?"
25 June 2007
Out And About
So I ended up coming out to another person this weekend. I hadn't planned on it, but the timing was right and it was a great experience.
Every year I go with a group of friends up to Lake Arrowhead. We rent a house by the lake and just live the good life for 3 days. That good life includes activities such as Catan, Halo, Guitar Hero, Geocaching, water activities, eating unhealthy amounts of junk food, musical jam sessions, and other such frivolities.
At one point on Saturday afternoon I found myself sitting down on the boat dock looking out over the lake and talking with one of the girls. We've been friends for a few years now. We used to hang out a lot more, but it's an hour drive or more to get from my place to her's, so visiting has become less frequent the last year or so.
We were talking about life in general, dating, the church and the conversation just kind of flowed into me coming out to her. It wasn't scary or nerve racking. It actually wasn't a big deal at all, but just a really great conversation. She's a Mormon feminist (Mofe?) and as such is a lot more open to discussions about non-mainstream stuff. It was really great talking to her about it.
I like gay-friendly Mormons. They aren't too bad. :)
Every year I go with a group of friends up to Lake Arrowhead. We rent a house by the lake and just live the good life for 3 days. That good life includes activities such as Catan, Halo, Guitar Hero, Geocaching, water activities, eating unhealthy amounts of junk food, musical jam sessions, and other such frivolities.
At one point on Saturday afternoon I found myself sitting down on the boat dock looking out over the lake and talking with one of the girls. We've been friends for a few years now. We used to hang out a lot more, but it's an hour drive or more to get from my place to her's, so visiting has become less frequent the last year or so.
We were talking about life in general, dating, the church and the conversation just kind of flowed into me coming out to her. It wasn't scary or nerve racking. It actually wasn't a big deal at all, but just a really great conversation. She's a Mormon feminist (Mofe?) and as such is a lot more open to discussions about non-mainstream stuff. It was really great talking to her about it.
I like gay-friendly Mormons. They aren't too bad. :)
24 June 2007
Blue Shirt Green Tie
Original Mohomie proposed that we have a Moho uniform to wear on select Sundays. I happened to wear mine today and had a camera with me, so I had someone take a shot. It was really bright and sunny outside today, so the colors were a little bled out in this one - thank heavens for brightness/contrast adjustments in photoshop. I also apologize for not shaving. I know, I know, it's horrible and disrespectful. But I was out of town and didn't feel like shaving for a ward full of people I didn't know. And I also realize that my tie is not nearly as similar to the official uniform as I thought. But, quite frankly, I think this tie looks better than the official one. :P
And I also realize that I am standing kind of weird so that it looks like I have girl hips. I hate that.
22 June 2007
Concert Review (Addendum)
I forgot to mention the opening act. They were awesome too. A great warm up for the amazing Police. The name of the band is Fiction Plane. You can check them out here.
Concert Review: The Police
$100 is what it cost to attend the greatest concert event I have ever been to in my life.
I've been to a lot of shows, living here in LA and being the music fanatic that I am. I have seen a lot of big, great bands (and the great big ones too). I have seen many, many small, great bands. Some are wonderful. Some are not so.
The Police were more than I ever expected.
When Lenny Kravitz made the comment that rock and roll is dead, he wasn't kidding. I realized that tonight. The sheer genius musicianship of the three men on stage made me feel repulsed towards most of the music I listen to on the radio these days. They are all virtuoso musicians in every sense of those words. Guitar, bass and drums. Simple instrument setup. Complex rhythms and chord progressions. Perfect. Flawless execution of the songs for 2 hours. I nearly wet myself. I think I could refer to it as a "musicgasm".
I imagine that is what it was like to sit in the room and hear Beethoven or Mozart tickle the ivories.
I've been to a lot of shows, living here in LA and being the music fanatic that I am. I have seen a lot of big, great bands (and the great big ones too). I have seen many, many small, great bands. Some are wonderful. Some are not so.
The Police were more than I ever expected.
When Lenny Kravitz made the comment that rock and roll is dead, he wasn't kidding. I realized that tonight. The sheer genius musicianship of the three men on stage made me feel repulsed towards most of the music I listen to on the radio these days. They are all virtuoso musicians in every sense of those words. Guitar, bass and drums. Simple instrument setup. Complex rhythms and chord progressions. Perfect. Flawless execution of the songs for 2 hours. I nearly wet myself. I think I could refer to it as a "musicgasm".
I imagine that is what it was like to sit in the room and hear Beethoven or Mozart tickle the ivories.
21 June 2007
19 June 2007
Speaking of Rock and/or Roll
Speaking of rock and/or roll, I had a great experience the other night. My band played at the House of Blues in Anaheim, and it was awesome.
My favorite local venues to attend concerts at here in the LA area are the House of Blues venues. The one in Hollywood is my favorite, and the one in Anaheim is a close second. When I go to shows at these places, the vibe is so awesome. I have always wanted to have the experience of playing a show on one of those stages.
It wasn't a traditional concert in the sense of being an opening act for a bigger band. It was a private party for homebuilders association here in So Cal. Our bassist is a member of the association, and the entertainment for the evening was provided by members of the association. There were severalhorrendous interesting bands that played lame nice covers of classic rock and roll. We were the only band with original tunes.
So, we didn't get to play a full length set or anything, but we did get to experience the venue from the stage. It was incredible. The sound was the best of any sound system I've ever played through. The stage crew was great. The audience loved us - especially after they all tossed back a few beers.
The only problem was, of course, with the drum set I was playing. It was a stage kit (not my own), and I just brought my snare, cymbals and kick pedal. The problem was that I didn't inspect the cymbal stands before we started playing. Our opening song which sounds sort of AC/DC-meets-Bon Jovi starts out with a punch to your face of cymbal crashes, kick drum and strong guitars. Well, I count off to start the song, hit the crash cymbal on the first note and the cymbal stand collapses. It was brass carnage. Fortunately we had stage hands there, so one of them ran out to fix it all for me - all while we were still playing the song. I don't think that the other guys even noticed what happened. I had to improvise a little since one of my cymbals and toms was out of commission, but it still sounded great. After that the night went off without a hitch.
Oh, how I long to be a rock star....
My favorite local venues to attend concerts at here in the LA area are the House of Blues venues. The one in Hollywood is my favorite, and the one in Anaheim is a close second. When I go to shows at these places, the vibe is so awesome. I have always wanted to have the experience of playing a show on one of those stages.
It wasn't a traditional concert in the sense of being an opening act for a bigger band. It was a private party for homebuilders association here in So Cal. Our bassist is a member of the association, and the entertainment for the evening was provided by members of the association. There were several
So, we didn't get to play a full length set or anything, but we did get to experience the venue from the stage. It was incredible. The sound was the best of any sound system I've ever played through. The stage crew was great. The audience loved us - especially after they all tossed back a few beers.
The only problem was, of course, with the drum set I was playing. It was a stage kit (not my own), and I just brought my snare, cymbals and kick pedal. The problem was that I didn't inspect the cymbal stands before we started playing. Our opening song which sounds sort of AC/DC-meets-Bon Jovi starts out with a punch to your face of cymbal crashes, kick drum and strong guitars. Well, I count off to start the song, hit the crash cymbal on the first note and the cymbal stand collapses. It was brass carnage. Fortunately we had stage hands there, so one of them ran out to fix it all for me - all while we were still playing the song. I don't think that the other guys even noticed what happened. I had to improvise a little since one of my cymbals and toms was out of commission, but it still sounded great. After that the night went off without a hitch.
Oh, how I long to be a rock star....
Heartbreaker
Ok, so the lyrics to this song by Whiskeytown really striks a chord with the whole situation that I have gone through with John. In fact it was the first song of the sappy mix CD that I made for him before he took off to Utah. To me, it's about getting into something that you know you probably shouldn't, but you do it anyway.
Excuse Me If I Break My Own Heart
Music and Lyrics by Ryan Adams
Well excuse me if I break my own heart
It was mine from the finish, I guess,
It was mine from the start.
The situation just don't seem so ***damn smart
The situation is tearing me apart
So, you'll have to excuse me if I break my own heart
Well excuse me if I break my own heart tonight
Some things aren't born too strong, have to learn how to fight.
Situation keeps me drinking every ***damn day and night.
The situation don't seem so right.
So excuse me if I break my own heart tonight
Well, excuse me if break my own heart tonight.
After all, it was mine.
After all, it was mine.
After all it was mine.
Can I have it back sometime?
So if the rain falls down on your Mississippi town
Let your eyes drift easy into mine
If the rains falls down on your Mississippi town
Let your eyes drift into mine
You're on the road but your diary entry reads blank
Is this some sort of joke to you?
Is this some sort of joke to you?
Well, excuse me if I break my own heart tonight
Well, excuse me if I break my own heart tonight
After all it was mine
After all it was mine
After all it was mine
Can I have it back sometime?
Excuse Me If I Break My Own Heart
Music and Lyrics by Ryan Adams
Well excuse me if I break my own heart
It was mine from the finish, I guess,
It was mine from the start.
The situation just don't seem so ***damn smart
The situation is tearing me apart
So, you'll have to excuse me if I break my own heart
Well excuse me if I break my own heart tonight
Some things aren't born too strong, have to learn how to fight.
Situation keeps me drinking every ***damn day and night.
The situation don't seem so right.
So excuse me if I break my own heart tonight
Well, excuse me if break my own heart tonight.
After all, it was mine.
After all, it was mine.
After all it was mine.
Can I have it back sometime?
So if the rain falls down on your Mississippi town
Let your eyes drift easy into mine
If the rains falls down on your Mississippi town
Let your eyes drift into mine
You're on the road but your diary entry reads blank
Is this some sort of joke to you?
Is this some sort of joke to you?
Well, excuse me if I break my own heart tonight
Well, excuse me if I break my own heart tonight
After all it was mine
After all it was mine
After all it was mine
Can I have it back sometime?
15 June 2007
My First Love (The Extended Directors Cut)
I've been going through a very emotionally challenging time over the last few weeks, trying to figure out my relationship with John and where we could/should go with it. Option B became the path to go down, and ever since then I've been trying to reconcile my deep affection for him with the thoughts of never being able to be intimate with him in the way I would like to.
We spoke on the phone last week about Option B. My understanding of that option was a bit different than his. In my mind I saw it as severe separation, most likely leading to a severing of all ties. I hated that idea. It was absolutely destroying my heart and my sanity. I couldn't bear the thought of losing another friend I felt so strongly for.
Another? Yes, another. I didn't feel as strongly for him as I do for John, but he was a close second. That's where the story in this post begins.
The summer between my junior and senior years at BYU I moved into a new place. It was a house on 600 North. Specifically, the white house right next to the playground for the elementary school on about 550 East. That place as I recall was 8 bedrooms and housed 11 guys. I had one of the private shoebox sized rooms in the attic.
When I moved into the ward, I quickly became friends with a guy who lived down the street. We'll call him George. Over the summer, George and I found out that we were nearly the same person. We liked all the same things. We hung out together a ton. We became the best of friends. He was the best friend I had ever had in my life up to that point.
It may, or may not, be important to keep in mind that up to this point in my life, I had not come to terms with being gay. It was something that I kept pushed back into the dark recesses of my mind, and only let it come out when my one roommate's A&F catalog would show up. :)
George and I spent a ton of time together through the school year. We had all the same friends, so there never seemed to be a time when we weren't somehow involved in the same activities.
The summer after I graduated, I was still in Provo (I had one more general ed class to take spring quarter). George was a year younger than me, so he was still around too. That summer was just like the previous year. We hung out all the time. We did absolutely everything together. At the end of the summer the two of us went on a week-long backpacking excursion to the Uintah mountains in Northeastern Utah - my favorite place on the planet we know as Earth. It was the best camping trip I've ever been on in my life. Just me and George in the place I love the most. FYI: We hiked King's Peak.
The following week I was leaving Provo to go to graduate school on the other side of the country. I was devastated that I was going to leave my friend behind. As a token of my friendship to him (which really was a true, pure love) I spent a whole bunch of money I didn't have on getting him a gift to remember me by.
We spent as much time together as possible the last week I was there. I was getting more and more unsure of my decision for grad school as the week progressed because I didn't want to leave behind such a great friend. But, we talked a lot and made plans of how we would always stay in contact with each other. Eventually we would both be married with families and we would co-own a cabin somewhere in Utah where our families could get together every year. It was a plan!
I left Provo and drove off into the sunset. Actually, it was the sunrise since I was headed east.
In my new place, across the country, I feverishly tried to keep in touch with George. I sent him emails all the time. But something unexpected happened - George didn't respond. George, bless his heart, is very much an "out of sight, out of mind" type of person. Once I wasn't around any more, he still had all of the old gang of friends in Provo to hang out with. I quickly became a distant memory for him.
He absolutely broke my heart. And, come to think of it, that is about the time where I started to come to terms with being gay (at the ripe old age of 25). That was when I finally realized that I wasn't just great friends with this person, I loved him more than I had ever loved any person in my life. I wanted to be with him forever, and it was killing me that he had forgotten about me so quickly.
After that, I would hear from him about once a year. It was awful. I never had any closure with my relationship with him, and every time I would receive that random email, it would send my head spinning all over again. I would regurgitate all of the painful emotions that I had experienced during those first few months after leaving Provo. That was partly my own fault because I included him on my Christmas Email list. He got my life update every year, and responded in kind.
Once per year contact went on for nearly 4 years (so 4 times I guess), and by that point I had graduated and moved myself out to California. I had also purchased my first home. One day I got a phone call from George. He was just finishing grad school and wanted to move out to California to get a job. He wanted to rent my spare bedroom from me.
Like trailer trash on the Jerry Springer show running back to the guy that beat her up the previous night, I said that I would love nothing more than for us to be roommates. And a month later he moved down to the sun and surf of Huntington Beach. It was like no time had passed from when I left Provo to that day. We picked up exactly where we left off in our friendship and togetherness. He was the one that got me to start training for the triathlon that I posted about a couple of weeks ago.
The summer was amazing. George was amazing. He had been working out a bit, so he was looking mighty fine too. I loved going to the beach with him. :D
Then, the worst happened. At the end of the summer he had not found a job that he wanted to take in So Cal. The job he wanted to take was in the Phoenix area. He was moving. And I was devastated again. All of the same love that I had before was back, plus some, and it was going to happen again. We were separating.
To no one's surprise, he reverted back to his out of sight out of mind persona. We maintained spotty contact over the next few years, mostly due to him responding to my Christmas email. I went out to visit once about a year and a half ago. He had gotten married several months before. I needed to take a trip out to Mesa, and I wanted to meet his wife.
It was really hard for me. Here was this guy that I had been madly in love with for so many years, who I knew I could never have a long term marriage-style relationship with. Yet, my feelings for him were as deep as feelings can get. I loved him in every sense of the word, but was unable to ever sufficiently express that to him. He had a lovely wife and seemed genuinely happy.
Since that trip to Mesa, I have not tried to keep any more contact with him. I actually was finally successful in turning my heartache into anger. So, when he called and left me a message a few months ago, I felt no desire to call him back. I moved on. I don't want that person to be in my life any more because it brings back too much sadness.
So that's the story. That is why I hated Option B. It literally has taken 9 years to get to the point I am at now with George where the thought of him doesn't make me an emotional nutball. But, that point is a terrible one. I actually dislike someone whom I dearly loved in my life.
I don't want my relationship with John to end up like that. Spotty contact turning into grief, anguish, and eventual disdain for him. That is a horrible thought. That is why I want to find the happy middle ground between Options A and B.
We spoke on the phone last week about Option B. My understanding of that option was a bit different than his. In my mind I saw it as severe separation, most likely leading to a severing of all ties. I hated that idea. It was absolutely destroying my heart and my sanity. I couldn't bear the thought of losing another friend I felt so strongly for.
Another? Yes, another. I didn't feel as strongly for him as I do for John, but he was a close second. That's where the story in this post begins.
The summer between my junior and senior years at BYU I moved into a new place. It was a house on 600 North. Specifically, the white house right next to the playground for the elementary school on about 550 East. That place as I recall was 8 bedrooms and housed 11 guys. I had one of the private shoebox sized rooms in the attic.
When I moved into the ward, I quickly became friends with a guy who lived down the street. We'll call him George. Over the summer, George and I found out that we were nearly the same person. We liked all the same things. We hung out together a ton. We became the best of friends. He was the best friend I had ever had in my life up to that point.
It may, or may not, be important to keep in mind that up to this point in my life, I had not come to terms with being gay. It was something that I kept pushed back into the dark recesses of my mind, and only let it come out when my one roommate's A&F catalog would show up. :)
George and I spent a ton of time together through the school year. We had all the same friends, so there never seemed to be a time when we weren't somehow involved in the same activities.
The summer after I graduated, I was still in Provo (I had one more general ed class to take spring quarter). George was a year younger than me, so he was still around too. That summer was just like the previous year. We hung out all the time. We did absolutely everything together. At the end of the summer the two of us went on a week-long backpacking excursion to the Uintah mountains in Northeastern Utah - my favorite place on the planet we know as Earth. It was the best camping trip I've ever been on in my life. Just me and George in the place I love the most. FYI: We hiked King's Peak.
The following week I was leaving Provo to go to graduate school on the other side of the country. I was devastated that I was going to leave my friend behind. As a token of my friendship to him (which really was a true, pure love) I spent a whole bunch of money I didn't have on getting him a gift to remember me by.
We spent as much time together as possible the last week I was there. I was getting more and more unsure of my decision for grad school as the week progressed because I didn't want to leave behind such a great friend. But, we talked a lot and made plans of how we would always stay in contact with each other. Eventually we would both be married with families and we would co-own a cabin somewhere in Utah where our families could get together every year. It was a plan!
I left Provo and drove off into the sunset. Actually, it was the sunrise since I was headed east.
In my new place, across the country, I feverishly tried to keep in touch with George. I sent him emails all the time. But something unexpected happened - George didn't respond. George, bless his heart, is very much an "out of sight, out of mind" type of person. Once I wasn't around any more, he still had all of the old gang of friends in Provo to hang out with. I quickly became a distant memory for him.
He absolutely broke my heart. And, come to think of it, that is about the time where I started to come to terms with being gay (at the ripe old age of 25). That was when I finally realized that I wasn't just great friends with this person, I loved him more than I had ever loved any person in my life. I wanted to be with him forever, and it was killing me that he had forgotten about me so quickly.
After that, I would hear from him about once a year. It was awful. I never had any closure with my relationship with him, and every time I would receive that random email, it would send my head spinning all over again. I would regurgitate all of the painful emotions that I had experienced during those first few months after leaving Provo. That was partly my own fault because I included him on my Christmas Email list. He got my life update every year, and responded in kind.
Once per year contact went on for nearly 4 years (so 4 times I guess), and by that point I had graduated and moved myself out to California. I had also purchased my first home. One day I got a phone call from George. He was just finishing grad school and wanted to move out to California to get a job. He wanted to rent my spare bedroom from me.
Like trailer trash on the Jerry Springer show running back to the guy that beat her up the previous night, I said that I would love nothing more than for us to be roommates. And a month later he moved down to the sun and surf of Huntington Beach. It was like no time had passed from when I left Provo to that day. We picked up exactly where we left off in our friendship and togetherness. He was the one that got me to start training for the triathlon that I posted about a couple of weeks ago.
The summer was amazing. George was amazing. He had been working out a bit, so he was looking mighty fine too. I loved going to the beach with him. :D
Then, the worst happened. At the end of the summer he had not found a job that he wanted to take in So Cal. The job he wanted to take was in the Phoenix area. He was moving. And I was devastated again. All of the same love that I had before was back, plus some, and it was going to happen again. We were separating.
To no one's surprise, he reverted back to his out of sight out of mind persona. We maintained spotty contact over the next few years, mostly due to him responding to my Christmas email. I went out to visit once about a year and a half ago. He had gotten married several months before. I needed to take a trip out to Mesa, and I wanted to meet his wife.
It was really hard for me. Here was this guy that I had been madly in love with for so many years, who I knew I could never have a long term marriage-style relationship with. Yet, my feelings for him were as deep as feelings can get. I loved him in every sense of the word, but was unable to ever sufficiently express that to him. He had a lovely wife and seemed genuinely happy.
Since that trip to Mesa, I have not tried to keep any more contact with him. I actually was finally successful in turning my heartache into anger. So, when he called and left me a message a few months ago, I felt no desire to call him back. I moved on. I don't want that person to be in my life any more because it brings back too much sadness.
So that's the story. That is why I hated Option B. It literally has taken 9 years to get to the point I am at now with George where the thought of him doesn't make me an emotional nutball. But, that point is a terrible one. I actually dislike someone whom I dearly loved in my life.
I don't want my relationship with John to end up like that. Spotty contact turning into grief, anguish, and eventual disdain for him. That is a horrible thought. That is why I want to find the happy middle ground between Options A and B.
14 June 2007
Holy Canoli!
Has everyone seen this? A few of our blog brothers are cited/noted in it. In the notes section, see note #41. Does anyone know who compiled this article? I'm honored that I was included in the reference notes. And I think it's hilarious that they wrote about the word "Moho" and its origins. XD
For some reason the text doesn't wrap when it's showing in my blog, so here it is on two lines:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
Homosexuality_and_The_Church_of_Jesus_Christ_of_Latter-day_Saints
For some reason the text doesn't wrap when it's showing in my blog, so here it is on two lines:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
Homosexuality_and_The_Church_of_Jesus_Christ_of_Latter-day_Saints
Keytarded
So I coined a new word today. It is a combination of "key" and "retarded." Let me tell you the story.
At 9:00 this morning I was contemplating getting out of bed (since I work from home on Thursdays and Fridays). My cell phone rang. It was my friend who we will call Ron Burgundy. Ron and I go back several years. We've played in a band together. Been on road trips together. Dated a few of the same girls (but not at the same time). I consider him to be one of my best friends in these parts.
So Ron calls me up. "Max! Are you still in bed? You lazy sack of crap! Check out what a gorgeous day it is outside. Let's go surf for an hour before I go to work."
I sleepily replied, "Sweet! I'd much rather surf than walk into my living room and start working."
"Okay. I'll be there in 15 minutes."
I roll out of bed, eat some breakfast, take a deuce, put on my board shorts, pull The Ark (that is the name/title of my surfboard) out of the garage and wait for Ron to show up. He shows up. I throw my stuff in his truck and we head down to 9th Street to surf. He called Gidget and Paco on the way, and they were already at the beach changing into their wetsuits.
The waves were virtually non-existent, so we spent the better part of an hour just chatting and trying to stand up and balance on our stationary boards. A few waves would roll in every couple of minutes, but they weren't anything to talk about. The break was really close to shore, so that you were faced with only about 18" of water between you and the sand when you are sliding down the face of the wave. Scary. I know a guy who broke his neck doing that and is now confined to a wheelchair.
We called it a day and headed back in to shore. We walked up to the truck, and I waited for Ron to open the door. I waited some more. I waited a little bit more and said, "Hey, can you open the door for me? I need to change back into my shorts."
"Um, I would open the doors if I could find the key."
"You lost the key?"
"I never lose the key. I always stick it in the same place in my wetsuit before I zip up, but it's not there."
So he spent the next several minutes digging through his wetsuit trying to find the key. It wasn't there. Now, for those who don't know, when you go surfing you don't wear anything under your wetsuit. So, he couldn't just take his suit off and shake it out - his clothes were in the truck. It was kind of funny to sit there and watch him digging through his wetsuit trying to find the key.
It turns out that the truck was a rental while his was in the shop. I stayed with the boards at the truck and he went walking down the street to find a phone to call the rental shop. I sat at the truck for about an hour before he finally came back. It turns out that people don't like to loan their phones to you even in an emergency - stupid Mexicans, Armenians and other random White people! Thankfully there was a really nice Chinese guy that runs a donut shop that let him use the phone. Hooray for the Chinese! They are nice and he makes good donuts.
He calls up the rental shop and they arrange to send out a AAA locksmith to let us into the car. We wait another hour or so before he finally shows up. Within 2 minutes he has a new key made and we are ready to roll. I change into my shorts and load everything up in the truck. Ron starts pulling off his wetsuit to change into his shorts and guess what falls out of the very bottom of his right pant leg? Yep. The key.
So after wasting 2 hours, getting a locksmith to come cut a new key on site, and it all cost him about $150, he finds the key in his wetsuit. I couldn't do anything but laugh. He was so mad about the whole thing and I was just laughing away. Then after a little while he decided it was really funny too and we both were laughing at it.
He took me home to drop my stuff off. I also needed him to drop me off to pick up my truck from the shop. So I run into my house, grab my wallet and cell phone, change clothes, and then run back out to have him drive me to the repair shop. I hop in his car, look into my hands and realized I had grabbed the wrong set of keys - and those keys don't have a house key on them.
"Dammit! I just grabbed the wrong set of keys. Your bad key mojo rubbed off on me. This is the most key-tarded thing that has ever happened."
And that is how I invented the word keytarded.
It's always an adventure when I hang out with Ron. I should avoid him a little bit more.
At 9:00 this morning I was contemplating getting out of bed (since I work from home on Thursdays and Fridays). My cell phone rang. It was my friend who we will call Ron Burgundy. Ron and I go back several years. We've played in a band together. Been on road trips together. Dated a few of the same girls (but not at the same time). I consider him to be one of my best friends in these parts.
So Ron calls me up. "Max! Are you still in bed? You lazy sack of crap! Check out what a gorgeous day it is outside. Let's go surf for an hour before I go to work."
I sleepily replied, "Sweet! I'd much rather surf than walk into my living room and start working."
"Okay. I'll be there in 15 minutes."
I roll out of bed, eat some breakfast, take a deuce, put on my board shorts, pull The Ark (that is the name/title of my surfboard) out of the garage and wait for Ron to show up. He shows up. I throw my stuff in his truck and we head down to 9th Street to surf. He called Gidget and Paco on the way, and they were already at the beach changing into their wetsuits.
The waves were virtually non-existent, so we spent the better part of an hour just chatting and trying to stand up and balance on our stationary boards. A few waves would roll in every couple of minutes, but they weren't anything to talk about. The break was really close to shore, so that you were faced with only about 18" of water between you and the sand when you are sliding down the face of the wave. Scary. I know a guy who broke his neck doing that and is now confined to a wheelchair.
We called it a day and headed back in to shore. We walked up to the truck, and I waited for Ron to open the door. I waited some more. I waited a little bit more and said, "Hey, can you open the door for me? I need to change back into my shorts."
"Um, I would open the doors if I could find the key."
"You lost the key?"
"I never lose the key. I always stick it in the same place in my wetsuit before I zip up, but it's not there."
So he spent the next several minutes digging through his wetsuit trying to find the key. It wasn't there. Now, for those who don't know, when you go surfing you don't wear anything under your wetsuit. So, he couldn't just take his suit off and shake it out - his clothes were in the truck. It was kind of funny to sit there and watch him digging through his wetsuit trying to find the key.
It turns out that the truck was a rental while his was in the shop. I stayed with the boards at the truck and he went walking down the street to find a phone to call the rental shop. I sat at the truck for about an hour before he finally came back. It turns out that people don't like to loan their phones to you even in an emergency - stupid Mexicans, Armenians and other random White people! Thankfully there was a really nice Chinese guy that runs a donut shop that let him use the phone. Hooray for the Chinese! They are nice and he makes good donuts.
He calls up the rental shop and they arrange to send out a AAA locksmith to let us into the car. We wait another hour or so before he finally shows up. Within 2 minutes he has a new key made and we are ready to roll. I change into my shorts and load everything up in the truck. Ron starts pulling off his wetsuit to change into his shorts and guess what falls out of the very bottom of his right pant leg? Yep. The key.
So after wasting 2 hours, getting a locksmith to come cut a new key on site, and it all cost him about $150, he finds the key in his wetsuit. I couldn't do anything but laugh. He was so mad about the whole thing and I was just laughing away. Then after a little while he decided it was really funny too and we both were laughing at it.
He took me home to drop my stuff off. I also needed him to drop me off to pick up my truck from the shop. So I run into my house, grab my wallet and cell phone, change clothes, and then run back out to have him drive me to the repair shop. I hop in his car, look into my hands and realized I had grabbed the wrong set of keys - and those keys don't have a house key on them.
"Dammit! I just grabbed the wrong set of keys. Your bad key mojo rubbed off on me. This is the most key-tarded thing that has ever happened."
And that is how I invented the word keytarded.
It's always an adventure when I hang out with Ron. I should avoid him a little bit more.
12 June 2007
Stamina
More than one person (two to be exact) has asked asked me a question along the lines of, "Max, how is it that you have held on for so long?" This post is going to be a feeble attempt at answering that question.
First of all, I think I need to let everyone know what a bumpy ride it has been. If you've read my previous posts about the whole situation that I've been through with John, you'll nod your head in the affirmative. I've had bumps, bruises, bloody knuckles/noses, sprains, aches, wounds, compound fractures, and athletes foot. Some of the injuries you receive while traveling down this path can take a very, very long time to heal. Some of them may never fully heal - just like Frodo's shoulder wound that he received on Weathertop from the Nazgul.... Sorry, I nerded out there for a second.
Anyway, what I'm getting at is that I don't want anyone to think that I've lived some sort of charmed life, and haven't had it just as bad as the rest of you - because I have. In fact, I look at a lot of you who live so close to each other and socialize and support each other, and I view you guys as living the charmed existence. It's us loners that have it really tough. But, that is neither here nor there, I don't want to get into a discussion of who has it worse. Suffice to say, it sucks ass for ALL of us. Agreed?
So what is it that has "kept me going" for so long? In a recent IM chat with another MoHo I made these points:
1) Seeking Spiritual Experiences
You need spiritual experiences in your life to constantly reaffirm your testimony. One of the best ways to seek spiritual experiences (if you're an Elder) is to give blessings to your home teachees. Visit them every month and don't just offer, but ask them if you can give them one. If you ask, "May we give you a priesthood blessing before we leave?" at the end of your visit, most people won't say no. When you put your hands on their head to give them a blessing, just wait in silence for a few moments. Stop and listen. Wait for the Spirit to come into the room. Don't say what you think you should say, say what the Spirit directs you to say. The more you do this, the better you will get at it. Honestly, giving quality blessings is very much like training for a sport, the more you do it and the more attention you give it, the better you become at it. The better you become at it, the more spiritual those experiences become (as long as you don't get cocky about it).
2) Daily Prayer
Sunday School answers are great. If you can't do anything else that you learned in Sunday School, you must pray. Morning and night. Even if your prayers are sometimes bland and a repeat of what you said yesterday, just putting yourself in the habit of praying helps you keep a certain mindset so that when times are really tough, you think to pray for help.
Just as a side note, I've prayed in Spanish since my mission. Because of that, I still speak Spanish fairly well. For all of you learned a language on your mission, it's a good way to keep that skill up.
3) Pay A Full Tithe
Paying tithing has saved my bacon more than once in this life. I've had a lot of experiences where I have been financially/occupationally blessed, and I attribute it all to being a full tithe payer. This couples back into my first comment of seeking spiritual experiences as testimony builders. Paying tithing will offer you this.
4) Patriarchal Blessing
Read it over and over again - weekly if you can remember to. It is direct revelation for you in your life. I just reread mine on Sunday and received new insight into it. I thought that I had it all understood, but in the light of what's happend in my life over the last 6 months, there is a certain passage that has now taken on a whole new meaning for me. It has given me some much needed hope this week.
5) My Generally Cheery Disposition
I am sarcastic. I am a joker. I laugh a lot (John can attest to that, it's what makes me so charming). Laughter is the best way to relieve stress and to turn a bad situation into a good one. It's amazing what it can do for you. Try it sometime.
So, that's just a few of the random things I came up with on the spot in my conversation on Sunday night. Maybe someone will find it useful. Maybe not. As you can see, there is nothing really magical that I have done to keep on the path. It's mostly just a lot of hard work and determination.
If I come up with some more, I'll make an addendum post.
First of all, I think I need to let everyone know what a bumpy ride it has been. If you've read my previous posts about the whole situation that I've been through with John, you'll nod your head in the affirmative. I've had bumps, bruises, bloody knuckles/noses, sprains, aches, wounds, compound fractures, and athletes foot. Some of the injuries you receive while traveling down this path can take a very, very long time to heal. Some of them may never fully heal - just like Frodo's shoulder wound that he received on Weathertop from the Nazgul.... Sorry, I nerded out there for a second.
Anyway, what I'm getting at is that I don't want anyone to think that I've lived some sort of charmed life, and haven't had it just as bad as the rest of you - because I have. In fact, I look at a lot of you who live so close to each other and socialize and support each other, and I view you guys as living the charmed existence. It's us loners that have it really tough. But, that is neither here nor there, I don't want to get into a discussion of who has it worse. Suffice to say, it sucks ass for ALL of us. Agreed?
So what is it that has "kept me going" for so long? In a recent IM chat with another MoHo I made these points:
1) Seeking Spiritual Experiences
You need spiritual experiences in your life to constantly reaffirm your testimony. One of the best ways to seek spiritual experiences (if you're an Elder) is to give blessings to your home teachees. Visit them every month and don't just offer, but ask them if you can give them one. If you ask, "May we give you a priesthood blessing before we leave?" at the end of your visit, most people won't say no. When you put your hands on their head to give them a blessing, just wait in silence for a few moments. Stop and listen. Wait for the Spirit to come into the room. Don't say what you think you should say, say what the Spirit directs you to say. The more you do this, the better you will get at it. Honestly, giving quality blessings is very much like training for a sport, the more you do it and the more attention you give it, the better you become at it. The better you become at it, the more spiritual those experiences become (as long as you don't get cocky about it).
2) Daily Prayer
Sunday School answers are great. If you can't do anything else that you learned in Sunday School, you must pray. Morning and night. Even if your prayers are sometimes bland and a repeat of what you said yesterday, just putting yourself in the habit of praying helps you keep a certain mindset so that when times are really tough, you think to pray for help.
Just as a side note, I've prayed in Spanish since my mission. Because of that, I still speak Spanish fairly well. For all of you learned a language on your mission, it's a good way to keep that skill up.
3) Pay A Full Tithe
Paying tithing has saved my bacon more than once in this life. I've had a lot of experiences where I have been financially/occupationally blessed, and I attribute it all to being a full tithe payer. This couples back into my first comment of seeking spiritual experiences as testimony builders. Paying tithing will offer you this.
4) Patriarchal Blessing
Read it over and over again - weekly if you can remember to. It is direct revelation for you in your life. I just reread mine on Sunday and received new insight into it. I thought that I had it all understood, but in the light of what's happend in my life over the last 6 months, there is a certain passage that has now taken on a whole new meaning for me. It has given me some much needed hope this week.
5) My Generally Cheery Disposition
I am sarcastic. I am a joker. I laugh a lot (John can attest to that, it's what makes me so charming). Laughter is the best way to relieve stress and to turn a bad situation into a good one. It's amazing what it can do for you. Try it sometime.
So, that's just a few of the random things I came up with on the spot in my conversation on Sunday night. Maybe someone will find it useful. Maybe not. As you can see, there is nothing really magical that I have done to keep on the path. It's mostly just a lot of hard work and determination.
If I come up with some more, I'll make an addendum post.
06 June 2007
A Utah-rrific 4th of July Anyone?
Hey all, today I decided to go visit the family for a week in July. I'll be in the Provo-ish area from the 4th through the 12th, so if anyone is going to be around and wants to do something fun, I'm up for it. And I promise not to fall in love with anyone, nor be so charming as to make you fall in love with me. I learned my lesson on that one with John. ;P
I hope the Biddles will be in town, because I want to take them up on their offer for dinner. :D
I hope the Biddles will be in town, because I want to take them up on their offer for dinner. :D
Eeeew!
So, I use statcounter.com on my blog so that I can see who all the pervs are out there checking out my blog. Here is what search terms people use to find me in google:
Num -- Perc. ---- Search Term
13 -- 86.67% --- mymormonjourney
1 --- 6.67% --- max power mormon band
1 --- 6.67% --- mr gay uk full frontal nudity
15 -- 100.00%
The first two searches don't bother me. It's the third one. WTF?!?!?!?
Num -- Perc. ---- Search Term
13 -- 86.67% --- mymormonjourney
1 --- 6.67% --- max power mormon band
1 --- 6.67% --- mr gay uk full frontal nudity
15 -- 100.00%
The first two searches don't bother me. It's the third one. WTF?!?!?!?
A Happy Middle Ground?
So, my post yesterday was Option B = Sucks. I still believe that (but I'm proud to say that at no time during the day or evening did I break down in uncontrollable sobbing).
There has to be a happy medium. There has to be another option. I do still believe that from an eternal perspective, we can't do option A. I think that we both would love to be able to find a woman, get sealed in the temple, and start eternal families. We both know that is how The Plan is supposed to work.
But I care deeply for John. Why can't I find some way to still express those feelings of love? Why do we have to sever everything we have? Love is not an evil. The Bible even says "God is Love." As long as there is no hanky-panky, there really shouldn't be anything wrong with loving another person.
Case in point (sorry, John, I hope you don't mind me revealing this bit of info):
When I leaned over and kissed John that night, I didn't just give him one kiss and say, "Thank you, you can go home." We kissed a lot for a long time. And here was the strange thing for me: I didn't feel guilty. I didn't feel dirty. I didn't feel evil. I didn't feel bad at all. I had absolutely no regrets. I felt pretty freaking awesome. And if there is anyone in this world with an overactive conscience, who will feel guilty over the smallest of small things, it is me. Feeling guilt is one of my core competencies.
I have a friend that I confide everything in. I talked to her on Sunday night about the entire experience. She is a pretty straight-arrow Mormon, and when I told her about not feeling guilty for kissing him she responded, "Why would you feel guilty for kissing someone? Are you supposed to?"
That got me thinking. Am I supposed to feel guilty for expressing love to someone else (especially if it's in an appropriate fashion)? What is the appropriate fashion? Obviously, there is a certain level of action where you begin to cross lines and do things you shouldn't, but straight couples have to deal with that too.
I was intrigued by Beck's last post. Why are certain actions appropriate in some cultures and not in others? Now, none of the people he was talking about were making out, but they had real, intimate, physical contact with each other and it was okay. There was nothing wrong with it!
Where is our happy middle ground for the appropriate expression of Love?
There has to be a happy medium. There has to be another option. I do still believe that from an eternal perspective, we can't do option A. I think that we both would love to be able to find a woman, get sealed in the temple, and start eternal families. We both know that is how The Plan is supposed to work.
But I care deeply for John. Why can't I find some way to still express those feelings of love? Why do we have to sever everything we have? Love is not an evil. The Bible even says "God is Love." As long as there is no hanky-panky, there really shouldn't be anything wrong with loving another person.
Case in point (sorry, John, I hope you don't mind me revealing this bit of info):
When I leaned over and kissed John that night, I didn't just give him one kiss and say, "Thank you, you can go home." We kissed a lot for a long time. And here was the strange thing for me: I didn't feel guilty. I didn't feel dirty. I didn't feel evil. I didn't feel bad at all. I had absolutely no regrets. I felt pretty freaking awesome. And if there is anyone in this world with an overactive conscience, who will feel guilty over the smallest of small things, it is me. Feeling guilt is one of my core competencies.
I have a friend that I confide everything in. I talked to her on Sunday night about the entire experience. She is a pretty straight-arrow Mormon, and when I told her about not feeling guilty for kissing him she responded, "Why would you feel guilty for kissing someone? Are you supposed to?"
That got me thinking. Am I supposed to feel guilty for expressing love to someone else (especially if it's in an appropriate fashion)? What is the appropriate fashion? Obviously, there is a certain level of action where you begin to cross lines and do things you shouldn't, but straight couples have to deal with that too.
I was intrigued by Beck's last post. Why are certain actions appropriate in some cultures and not in others? Now, none of the people he was talking about were making out, but they had real, intimate, physical contact with each other and it was okay. There was nothing wrong with it!
Where is our happy middle ground for the appropriate expression of Love?
05 June 2007
Option B = Sucks
Thanks everyone for your encouragement and support for John's and my decision to go with Option B. I appreciate it, and I'm sure he does too.
But I just have to say that today I really hate Option B. I was lying in bed wishing that an earthquake would hit and the roof would fall on me and knock me into a coma so I didn't have to think about this any more. This is a really cruel joke to finally meet someone that I feel all the right emotions for, and then not be able to be with him.
And just for the record, I was completely in love with John before I kissed him. So don't go thinking, "Well if they had just not been alone together this never would have happened." That line of thinking couldn't be further from the truth. I would still feel this deeply for him even if we hadn't kissed. That's the travesty of it all. Falling in love just happened. How were we to know that it would? There are so many MoHos that hang out together up in Utah without any major problems. Why not us? Why couldn't we just hang out and become friends? Why did we have to end up this way? I hate my life right now.
I actually found myself still contemplating Option A yesterday and what the implications would be. And I was starting to not feel too bad about it.
But I just have to say that today I really hate Option B. I was lying in bed wishing that an earthquake would hit and the roof would fall on me and knock me into a coma so I didn't have to think about this any more. This is a really cruel joke to finally meet someone that I feel all the right emotions for, and then not be able to be with him.
And just for the record, I was completely in love with John before I kissed him. So don't go thinking, "Well if they had just not been alone together this never would have happened." That line of thinking couldn't be further from the truth. I would still feel this deeply for him even if we hadn't kissed. That's the travesty of it all. Falling in love just happened. How were we to know that it would? There are so many MoHos that hang out together up in Utah without any major problems. Why not us? Why couldn't we just hang out and become friends? Why did we have to end up this way? I hate my life right now.
I actually found myself still contemplating Option A yesterday and what the implications would be. And I was starting to not feel too bad about it.
03 June 2007
Meeting Other Mohos: Part Deux
I'm trying to figure out how to sum up all of my emotions into this post. I met my first MoHo two weeks ago. The next day I was as insane as a 14 year old, love-struck girl, as you can read here (Meeting Other MoHos) and here (Emotional Immaturity).
Here we are, almost 2 weeks later, and John and I have spent a total of 67.5 hours together. He has almost been a full-time job for me. :P
After the post on emotional immaturity, we chatted, and I thought that we had everything all figured out. We decided to hang out together all day Friday (UCLA Law School tour for him, lunch, Pirates 3, shopping at H&M, hanging out chatting at my place) and it was awesome. I've never been shopping with another gay guy before. He wasn't as good at shopping as I thought he would be. :P But, I did convince him that he needed to purchase a zip-up hoodie. Then, the inevitable happened. We were hanging out at my place that night, and I introduced John to Guitar Hero. He is a changed man now.
All weekend I was a complete wreck. I couldn't stand not being around him. My emotional immaturity was pummeling me with all of its might. We did a ton of chatting through IM. Actually, if you add up our IM time, we probably were together more along the lines of 80 hours than the 67.5 I previously mentioned. Through chatting we found that we had so much in common - more than I have ever had with anyone else. That wasn't helping me to just see him as a friend.
We got back together on Tuesday night. We went up to LA to see my friend's band play. They were absolutely incredible. I can't remember what excuse we made up, but we ended up hanging out again at my place after the concert. This time, it evolved into a little more than hanging out. There was a lot of cuddling and/or snuggling that went on while we chatted. I do have to say that John is a great spooner. :D
Wednesday we went to the gayest place on earth - Disneyland. I got the chance to meet John's mom and little sister. We had the best time. I was amazed at how good he is at the Buzz Lightyear game. He totally smoked me. Totally! After D-land we went back to my place and watched So You Think You Can Dance, mingled with a little more cuddling. And, by this time I couldn't handle it any more. I had to lean over and kiss him. I thought that I was strong. I thought that I had already made my choices in life for saving romance for a woman. I thought that I could resist, but I couldn't. It was the most gratifying kiss I have ever given in my life.
So, by this time you may be saying to yourself, "Self, these guys certainly hit it off well. And that kiss? Wow! I wonder how they are doing emotionally." Well, I'll tell you. I was a wreck. An absolute, blubbering wreck. I knew that John was leaving in a couple of days to go to Moab and then most likely back up to Utah for school next fall and I would only see him on rare occasions after Saturday. It was completely breaking my heart. I had completely fallen for him. And it wasn't just some infatuation (I've experienced that plenty of times before), it was something much, much deeper. So, I did the sappiest thing that I could possibly think of - I made a mix CD of lame love songs.
We met up on Thursday night so I could give him the CD. I was crying my eyes out as we sat in his car chatting for possibly the last time in a long while. We talked about us, and what we wanted in life. There were basically two possibilities for us. Option A was to just admit our love for each other and go for it. Option B was to separate ourselves and become long-distance friends. With the amount of love I was feeling towards John, there really wasn't a comfortable middle ground.
I was a disaster when I got home that night. I just cried and cried. How could I meet such an amazing person that I had such an amazing connection with and not be able to be with them forever? I really, really wanted to choose Option A, and I think John was feeling the same way (or so he tells me). I spent all day Friday working it out in my head. Friday was also the day of my friend's funeral. That helped to put everything in perspective for me.
I honestly believe that I could be happy living with John for the rest of my life. We are so similar, and we are both so freaking sexy. :P But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it would be only for this life. We could be happy, fulfill our wildest dreams, be married, adopt and raise children together, and all of that. But it would only be until death do us part. I couldn't do that to John, and I couldn't do that to myself. I don't want to just be happy in this life, I want to be happy forever. And as much as it was paining me to think of being away from John for several months, it was horrifying to think of living a life together and then not sharing life in the hereafter.
Above and beyond that, I felt guilty. I felt guilty of potentially stealing John's life away from him. He's so much younger than I am, and has so many more opportunities to find a woman to marry and raise a family with in the proper way. I couldn't stand the thought of me being the person to ruin that for him because of my selfish desires to be with him. I love and respect him too much to let him throw away his opportunities to live a life the way the Lord would have him.
So, Friday afternoon I sent John a message that I was choosing option B, and I explained why. It was a difficult message to write, and even harder to send, but I did it. I didn't want to leave things with an email, so I invited him to come over to my house one last time and we could talk about it. He did. We spent a lot of time talking about it, cuddling about it, and crying about it. At 4:00 in the morning we finally went to sleep.
We woke up a few hours later, and John had to take off to go do some work for his mom. We officially began option B and he left my house with a hug between two friends who care very deeply about each other. I detached myself from all emotion on Saturday, and thought that I was doing fine. Playing about 8 continuous hours of World of Warcraft helped. My mind was focused on my alternate universe.
I kept all emotion at bay during church this morning, but then as I was driving home, I put in the CD of sappy songs that John made for me. My heart sank and I had to keep on skipping through the songs so I wouldn't cry. Eventually I got to "I Don't Feel Like Dancing" by the Scissor Sisters, and that made me smile a little, so I listened to that a couple of times on the way home.
Shortly after I got home from church, John called me. Since he's on the road to Moab and has nothing better to do, we chatted for a while. Almost 4 hours to be exact. Option B is really kind of difficult. I might go so far as to say it sucks. But, from an eternal perspective, I keep on telling myself it's the right one.
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Update: John posted his thoughts about all of this in this post
Here we are, almost 2 weeks later, and John and I have spent a total of 67.5 hours together. He has almost been a full-time job for me. :P
After the post on emotional immaturity, we chatted, and I thought that we had everything all figured out. We decided to hang out together all day Friday (UCLA Law School tour for him, lunch, Pirates 3, shopping at H&M, hanging out chatting at my place) and it was awesome. I've never been shopping with another gay guy before. He wasn't as good at shopping as I thought he would be. :P But, I did convince him that he needed to purchase a zip-up hoodie. Then, the inevitable happened. We were hanging out at my place that night, and I introduced John to Guitar Hero. He is a changed man now.
All weekend I was a complete wreck. I couldn't stand not being around him. My emotional immaturity was pummeling me with all of its might. We did a ton of chatting through IM. Actually, if you add up our IM time, we probably were together more along the lines of 80 hours than the 67.5 I previously mentioned. Through chatting we found that we had so much in common - more than I have ever had with anyone else. That wasn't helping me to just see him as a friend.
We got back together on Tuesday night. We went up to LA to see my friend's band play. They were absolutely incredible. I can't remember what excuse we made up, but we ended up hanging out again at my place after the concert. This time, it evolved into a little more than hanging out. There was a lot of cuddling and/or snuggling that went on while we chatted. I do have to say that John is a great spooner. :D
Wednesday we went to the gayest place on earth - Disneyland. I got the chance to meet John's mom and little sister. We had the best time. I was amazed at how good he is at the Buzz Lightyear game. He totally smoked me. Totally! After D-land we went back to my place and watched So You Think You Can Dance, mingled with a little more cuddling. And, by this time I couldn't handle it any more. I had to lean over and kiss him. I thought that I was strong. I thought that I had already made my choices in life for saving romance for a woman. I thought that I could resist, but I couldn't. It was the most gratifying kiss I have ever given in my life.
So, by this time you may be saying to yourself, "Self, these guys certainly hit it off well. And that kiss? Wow! I wonder how they are doing emotionally." Well, I'll tell you. I was a wreck. An absolute, blubbering wreck. I knew that John was leaving in a couple of days to go to Moab and then most likely back up to Utah for school next fall and I would only see him on rare occasions after Saturday. It was completely breaking my heart. I had completely fallen for him. And it wasn't just some infatuation (I've experienced that plenty of times before), it was something much, much deeper. So, I did the sappiest thing that I could possibly think of - I made a mix CD of lame love songs.
We met up on Thursday night so I could give him the CD. I was crying my eyes out as we sat in his car chatting for possibly the last time in a long while. We talked about us, and what we wanted in life. There were basically two possibilities for us. Option A was to just admit our love for each other and go for it. Option B was to separate ourselves and become long-distance friends. With the amount of love I was feeling towards John, there really wasn't a comfortable middle ground.
I was a disaster when I got home that night. I just cried and cried. How could I meet such an amazing person that I had such an amazing connection with and not be able to be with them forever? I really, really wanted to choose Option A, and I think John was feeling the same way (or so he tells me). I spent all day Friday working it out in my head. Friday was also the day of my friend's funeral. That helped to put everything in perspective for me.
I honestly believe that I could be happy living with John for the rest of my life. We are so similar, and we are both so freaking sexy. :P But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it would be only for this life. We could be happy, fulfill our wildest dreams, be married, adopt and raise children together, and all of that. But it would only be until death do us part. I couldn't do that to John, and I couldn't do that to myself. I don't want to just be happy in this life, I want to be happy forever. And as much as it was paining me to think of being away from John for several months, it was horrifying to think of living a life together and then not sharing life in the hereafter.
Above and beyond that, I felt guilty. I felt guilty of potentially stealing John's life away from him. He's so much younger than I am, and has so many more opportunities to find a woman to marry and raise a family with in the proper way. I couldn't stand the thought of me being the person to ruin that for him because of my selfish desires to be with him. I love and respect him too much to let him throw away his opportunities to live a life the way the Lord would have him.
So, Friday afternoon I sent John a message that I was choosing option B, and I explained why. It was a difficult message to write, and even harder to send, but I did it. I didn't want to leave things with an email, so I invited him to come over to my house one last time and we could talk about it. He did. We spent a lot of time talking about it, cuddling about it, and crying about it. At 4:00 in the morning we finally went to sleep.
We woke up a few hours later, and John had to take off to go do some work for his mom. We officially began option B and he left my house with a hug between two friends who care very deeply about each other. I detached myself from all emotion on Saturday, and thought that I was doing fine. Playing about 8 continuous hours of World of Warcraft helped. My mind was focused on my alternate universe.
I kept all emotion at bay during church this morning, but then as I was driving home, I put in the CD of sappy songs that John made for me. My heart sank and I had to keep on skipping through the songs so I wouldn't cry. Eventually I got to "I Don't Feel Like Dancing" by the Scissor Sisters, and that made me smile a little, so I listened to that a couple of times on the way home.
Shortly after I got home from church, John called me. Since he's on the road to Moab and has nothing better to do, we chatted for a while. Almost 4 hours to be exact. Option B is really kind of difficult. I might go so far as to say it sucks. But, from an eternal perspective, I keep on telling myself it's the right one.
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Update: John posted his thoughts about all of this in this post
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