Urban Insanity

The NEW Urban Insanity

I originally started this blog as an outlet for my "coming out" escapades, that period of time during and right after law school where I struggled with coming out and all the highs and lows that go with it.  

My life has changed dramatically in the last few years - I found my life partner, I bought a "grown-up" house, and I settled down in my career.  And the focus of the crap I deal with on a daily basis has changed completely.  I no longer lay awake at night figuring out how to come out to my relatives or fret about the daily comings and goings of my single friends who hit up the bars.  

Now, I spend most of my time balancing my family life with my work life.  And in the wake of the upcoming elections, I spend a lot of time trying to reconcile my fiscally conservative ideals with my socially liberal agenda.  As a former military officer and a current small business owner, I have many fiscal conservative ideals.  I write "socially liberal," but quite honestly, I follow only a few socially liberal principles: I believe in equality across the board for GLBT Americans, I think that tort reform is abhorrent, and I think that men should stay out of the abortion discussion.  But the "gay thing," as my parents call it, and tort reform are non-negotiable items for me.  

As a small business owner who employs three people, I absolutely hate the concept of big government fueled by constantly higher taxes on small business owners.

I've bought a ton conversative books, three by Ann Coulter, one or two by Sean Hannity, and stacks by other conservative pundits, and I'm going through them now, and what I find interesting is that most conservatives care about the fiscal issues such as trickle down economics, cutting entitlement programs, and putting more power in state government.  Most of them could care less about the "gay thing."  But when you have politicians like Rick Santorum who, as recently as two months ago, vow to reinstate the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy, it makes it hard for me to support them.  Although I'd love to back a Republican in the 2012 election, because I truly believe it'd be in the best interest of my business, such support would likely put my rights as a gay American on the back burner for another decade.  And there lies my conundrum.  

Right now, I am planning on voting for Obama, but I'd love to find a reason not to.  I'm going to use Urban Insanity, this blog that has been my outlet, my friend, really, for all these years, to help me - and hopefully others - to navigate through my conflicting political views.  And I'm going to try to predict exactly what the Democrats will do for us if Obama is elected again.  No one has promised marriage equality, or even equality under the Federal Tax laws, but do we even want that?  More topics for the blog.... 

I'm going to commit to publishing this weekly, if not more than that, until the election. 

Coming Out: The Parents, The Final Chapter

It's been too many years in the making.  But I knew that, one day, it would happen . . .

I first started experimenting with guys in my early 20's, and back then, I never imagined that the day would come that I'd have that painful, yet incredibly liberating conversation with my parents about my sexuality. 

I've blogged about it for years.  In fact, to really appreciate this story, you should start from the beginning, here.  I've stressed about it, lost night after night of sleep, weighed the pros and cons and thought through every possible scenario until my brain cried 'enough.'  

But in the end, it just sorta happened. 

I tried to do it over Mother's Day weekend last year.  I bought a last minute ticket home, sat through my cousin's boring graduation, and ended up wussing out, despite the fact that I promised myself, my friends, and my boyfriend that I was going to come out.  Of course it wasn't the "best timing" for coming out, as my grandfather had died a few months earlier, but the "bad timing" excuse was starting to wear thin . . . I flew back to Dallas, completely disgusted with myself and embarrassed. 

A few months later, my family's annual 4th of July party drew me back home. 

I promised myself that it would happen this time . . . the endless questions about my "dating life," or lack thereof, in my parents' eyes, were driving me nuts.  And I'd been in a relationship for six months by then . . . it was only fair to my boyfriend that I start making steps towards introducing him to the family. 

So I flew to the midwest on July 1. 

As usual, I was swamped with legal work, and took a laptop and box of files home with me. 

I knew that the 'coming out experience' would drain everything out of me, and would completely rock my world and the world of my parents.  And it would throw off any job-related focus that I hoped to have.  So I delayed having that dreadful conversation until I finished my project.  

And then the time came. 

My project completed, I had no more excuses, no more justifiable reasons to delay that talk that had been building up for years.  

It was July 3, 2009.  

My parents and I, in preparation for the big family gathering on the 4th, had spent most of the morning shopping.  After lunch we drove back to the lake house, unloaded the SUV, and unpacked the 50+ bags of food.  

I made us 3 very strong drinks and asked my parents to join me on the back porch.  

"Isn't it early?"  My mom asked.

"It's after noon," I replied, "So we're good!"  

My parents met me on the back patio.  They sat together on a porch swing, facing the lake.  I sat across from them in a rocking chair, facing the house.  My mother's sunglasses were dark, large and dark, shielding her eyes.  Like always, her hair was perfect, blonde and reflective like her sunglasses in the shadowed afternoon sun.  My dad, strong and quiet as always, stretched his arm across the back of the swing and pushed the swing back and forth slowly and rhythmically with his sandaled foot. 

They were relaxed and happy.  

"So, we want to know who you're dating," my Dad said, breaking the cool silence.  

I awkwardly dodged the question, my nerves twitching and poking at my skin, urging me to break through the thin haze that continued to cloud my sexuality. 

But my dad didn't let me avoid his question.  I knew I couldn't dodge the topic any longer.  I couldn't go back to Dallas a failure. 

It was time. 

"Are there any girls in the picture?  Just tell us if you've had any dates?  Even one date?"  

My mom sat silently, sipping her cocktail, no doubt hoping to hear something that she could tell the ladies at church and the local Rotary Club.  

"Well,"  I started, a lump in my throat, my heart racing, "this is something that I wanted to talk with you about for a long time now . . ."  

I had never, in my life, been so nervous and unsure of myself. 

"I am not dating any girls."

"What do you mean, not dating any girls?"  My Dad asked, still completely clueless.  My mother sipped her cocktail quietly- more perceptive than my Dad, she could likely sense that a bomb was about to be dropped.

"You're not dating anyone?  Even one date?  I don't believe that," my Dad continued, "Just tell us about about any dates you've gone on - we're curious.  You never tell us anything."

"Well, Dad," I gulped, suddenly a bit emboldened by the rolling snowball of honesty, "I haven't dated any girls in two years.  Remember Heather, the girl you met that you thought I was dating?  She was just a friend.  I don't date girls."

"You dont . . ." 

He got it. 

Again, my mother . . . stoic and unreadable behind her giant sunglasses. 

"Are you telling me you're . . . Are you gay?"

This was the moment of truth - I could lie and say something like, "Just kidding!" or "I'm not sure, but I'll let you know," or "I don't know," but in all reality, I DID know.  I was a raging, card-carrying, boyfriend loving homo, and it was time they knew the truth. 

"Yes, I like guys.  And I have for a long time, but just haven't been honest with you about it." 

My parents sat there, stunned and emotionless for at least a minute, a very long time for silence after such a revelation. 

"Are you seeing anyone?"  My dad finally asked.

"Yes," I responded, surprised, "Do you- do you really want to talk about that right now."

Still no response from my mom.  My dad frowned.  "No, I don't really think I'm ready for that yet."

"How long have you known?"  My dad asked.

And then it was time for word vomit.  I basically told them every G to PG-13 story in this blog, from the story about my first boyfriend to the game warden I dated, to the last girl I was with. 

I spoke, with little to no response from my parents, for almost an hour, until it was time to pick up my sister from the airport.  And my mother never said a word about it.  Her eyes remained behind the sunglasses, and her emotions remained completely unreadable.  Like typical midwesterners, my parents instantly hardened themselves to the disturbing news and rallied for the next challenge at hand, the arrival of our crazy extended family. 

We didn't speak of it again for the rest of the weekend. 

Looking back now, a year later, the coming out experience could've been a lot worse.  My parents could've disowned me.  They could've tried to send me to a psychologist or a priest. 

It also could've gone a lot better.  They could've hugged me and said that they would love me no matter what.  Or they could've smiled and said that they loved the fact that I was gay.  But that didn't happen.  In fact, my folks were completely and utterly shocked about my confession.   

But they've come a long way in the last year.  And I commend them for their efforts, and now, in less than a month, my parents will meet an openly gay boyfriend of mine for the first time. 

I look forward to sharing these stories with you.

Smoking Ban in Dallas Bars - Finally!

The Dallas City Council just approved a new ordinance Wednesday that expands the city's current smoking ordinance to include businesses like billard halls and bars.

Recent discussions over the ordinance stirred passions from both sides of the aisle, with Dallas bar owners saying it would hurt businesses that support the city's economy, while supporters pushed for the ban saying it's a health issue. Other citizens argued against the ban, calling it an invasion of personal rights.

The ban advocates won based on the council's vote. In a 10-to-5 vote, the Dallas City Council passed the ban on Wednesday.

It's about time!

Proposition 8

Unless you've been living in a cave, you've heard all about California's Proposition 8.  

For those international readers, Proposition 8 was a California ballot proposition that changed the state Constitution to restrict the definition of marriage to a "union between a man and a woman" and eliminated the right of same-sex couples to marry.  The proposition did not affect domestic partnerships in California. 

Recently, I read through an article about how the Morman church is raising millions of dollars for a new NATIONAL campaign against gay marriage. 

A reader left this comment, which I thought was really on point:

"OK, this may sound strange to some. The best thing that could have happened to us was the passage of prop 8."

"To me Prop 8 has never really been about gay marriage, its been about gay rights, equality and bigotry."

"The passage of Prop 8 and the other 3 anti gay measures in other states brought the real issues out of the shadows and into the foreground."

"Gay issues were off the radar of most human rights, civil rights and progressive activists... no longer. The day after the election people who were never engaged in any gay causes talked openly about how the biggest disappointment on an otherwise glorious night was the treatment of the gay community."

"The churches were brought out of the shadows, called on their hate and identified for the illegal influence they have been enjoying unchecked on the political process. Now that they have been identified... they can be and have been taken on."

"The youth has had the issue reframed for them and been shown how this like other issues is a generational thing where the old people with completely outdated world views are desperately trying to impose that world view on their generation who knows better."

"Finally the passage of prop 8 has brought together the gay community. Its set the table for the gay community to connect with other activists and to heal divides with other communities by recognizing the similarities of their causes."

"Gay marriage hasn't been in question for years. We know it will be legal in the very near future... when the youth start calling more of the shots and the voice of the older generations becomes less relevant."

Coming Out: The Parents, Part III

If you have not read Parts I and II, click here.

Wow, it's been almost three years since I accepted the fact that I was gay.  And it's been a year and a half since I vowed to tell my folks. 

The "conversation" still hasn't happened.

Why, you ask? 

The short answer is because the whole idea terrifies me, and I haven't had the balls yet to do it.

The long answer is that it's been easy to put off.  My little sister's job has taken her all over the country, and now the world, and my parents have been distracted with her.  My folks also spent the last year building and designing a wonderful lake house, which they plan to retire in sometime in the next five years. 

While the lake house project was a welcome distraction before, it has now turned into the bane of my closeted existence.  I think the extra three bedrooms in the house coupled with the oversized dining table has made them yearn to fill the extra spaces with grandkids. 

As the oldest child, they are ready for me to get married, and with my 30...something'th birthday rolling around in a few very short weeks, they are putting more pressure on me than ever before.

Consequently, every phone conversation turns to "my social life." 

Sadly, I've come to dread talking to them on the phone.  

Our conversations are short and almost business-like.  I avoid the topic of dating by throwing out other topics before they can even bring it up.  

And I think my evasiveness has built an invisible wall between us.

I hate the whole situation. 

Growing up, I was close to them.  My relationship with them was even strong when I was dating girls, despite the fact that I was lying to them and to myself. 

I miss that bond that my parents and I had, but I don't think I can get that bond back unless I'm honest with them, regardless of the consequences.  

I leave for home on December 20.  This time, the conversation will happen.

News Article About Elderly Couple

I came across this news article yesterday about an elderly couple in the Dallas area, and it made me tear up.  I thought that I'd share it with you.  It's amazing what love can do.

By JIM DOUGLAS
A Fort Worth couple married for 75 years were buried Tuesday afternoon, after dying within five hours of one other.
JC Cox, 100, and his wife Josie, 96, were married on Christmas Day in 1932.
"She was telling me they went up to a pastor's door and knocked on the door," said Lesha Grimm, one of the couple's granddaughters. "He didn't marry them, so they went to another pastor's house."
They kept their wedding vows for 75 years, through the deaths of their own children, the lives of three new generations and the inevitable changes in each other.
"He was 120 pounds at most, ever," Ms. Grimm said. "She was a fat granny."
While Josie was described as a talker, JC said little.
"He couldn't hear real well and he didn't talk much anyway," said Marla Williamson, another granddaughter. "That was his way of socializing with you was to share Dr Pepper."
The fridge is still loaded with Dr Pepper. The little Fort Worth house unchanged.
"They stayed together the whole time," Ms. Williamson said. "They slept in this bed."
Mrs. Cox insisted on being JC's sole caregiver, even up until the moment they entered a nursing home last month.
"She was still ironing his clothes three weeks ago," Ms. Williamson said. "She was going to make sure, even though he never went anywhere, his clothes were going to be starched."
The granddaughters said their intimacy was apparent until the moment they died. A few days ago, Mr. Cox took Mrs. Cox's hand and he slipped away.
"Holding hands, and that's how they died," Ms. Williamson said. "Pa died holding onto Granny."
Just five hours later, she let go too as her family whispered to her.
"Your children are waiting for you, and Pa is waiting for you," Ms. Grimm said. "It's OK. You can let go and we'll all be OK together. And a minute later, she passed."

Gay Marriage - Great Points

I definitely believe that gay couples should enjoy the same benefits as straight ones.  While I have not yet made up my mind regarding whether we should be allowed to "marry" each other instead of simply becoming civilly unified domestic partners with the same rights and benefits (i.e. leave the religious aspect out of it), I do appreciate good arguments from both perspectives.

I found this humorous and educating post about gay marriage on a myspace page. 

Why gay marriage is wrong!!! 

1) Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.

2) Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.

3) Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms.  Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.

4) Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.

5) Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Brittany Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.

6) Straight marriages are valid because they produce children.  Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.

7) Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.

8) Gay marriage is not supported by religion.  In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country.  That's why we have only one religion in America.

9) Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home.  That's why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.

10) Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior.  People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.

Coming Out: The High School Best Friend

Val, my best friend from high school, didn't start out as my best friend.  Back in my sophomore year of H.S., she actually started out as my best friend's girlfriend.  Over time, my buddy, who was really just a rich, arrogant a-hole, treated her worse and worse, and eventually, she dumped his ass. 

I stopped hanging out with my old buddy sometime during our senior year, and by the time we left for separate colleges, we didn't speak at all. 

Val and I, however, kept in touch. 

In fact, many years have passed since my high school days, and Val is one of the only people I've remained in touch with from that period of my life.

We went to separate colleges over six hours away from each other.  With the newness and consumptiveness of college, it was difficult to keep in touch with each other, but each year during Christmas, Val and I would meet up back in our tiny hometown. 

Even after I moved to Texas to pursue my career, Val and I continued to see each other over the holidays. 

A few years ago, Val got married.  Her husband is a handsome, fun, and charming guy.  I was in their wedding. 

Then, just a year ago, Val had a baby.

Val had always joked with me about how I was a player who had commitment problems, and that I'd never settle down. 

I can understand why she felt that way - in all the years that Val had known me, I had never had a girlfriend for very long, and I was often vague when providing telephonic and yearly face-to-face updates about my relationships.  With such a physical distance between us, it was easy to keep up the charade, just like it's been easy to do so with my folks.

This last Christmas, however, I decided that it was time to tell Val the truth. 

In the past, we'd always met up for a couple drinks (and sometimes, dinner) at the local Applebee's, which is one of the few places that serves alcohol in my small town.

This last year was no exception. 

I picked Val up at her parents' house, played with her baby girl for a few minutes, and then drove my long-time friend over to our signature restaurant.

On the drive down that dark country road between the barren, snow covered fields and sporadic ranch homes and trailers, I had that knotty feeling in my stomach, the same feeling I always seem to get when I'm about to "out myself" to someone. 

I've come out to a dozen friends now, so I'm not terrified like I once was.  But still, coming out isn't a completely stress-free thing to do.

Throughout the entire drive, I controlled the conversation - we discussed Val's job, her husband, her new baby.  Then, when we sat down at Applebee's, I told her about my law practice, my parents, and my newly-bought house. 

Then, suddenly and completely out of the blue, Val asked me a question:

"Are you dating anyone?"

My heart began racing.  This was it.  This was my spoon fed introduction into that moment I'd been waiting for.

"No, I'm not," I replied simply.

Then she asked me something that caught me completely off guard, a question I would've never expected from her.

"Are you gay?" 

Whoa!  Did she really just ask me that?  I almost fell off of the bar stool.

I hesitated for only a second, despite the intense pounding in my chest and slight twitching of my hands.  "Yeah, actually, I am."

"Cool."

"Well, how long have you known?"

"Um, I've suspected for a couple years now, but wasn't for sure.  I knew it was either that you had commitment problems or that you were gay."

"No shit?  Why didn't you ask me before?"

"I don't know.  It's just not a big deal, I guess."

"Wow, that was . . . easy."

We spent the next hour talking through everything, all of my dodges and lies from the last few years, my ex-boyfriends, my attempts at dating girls, her predictions on how my folks will take it, etc.  Val was awesome about everything, and completely supportive. 

I've come out to several friends, and I have to say that this particular coming out experience was by far the easiest. 

Perhaps it was because Val took the initiative. 

Regardless, now there is one more important person in my life who knows the truth about me. 

This is a relief. 

The Church of Hate

A reader posted the following comment in my Heather Ledger blog entry:

I was watching The Hour--a some kind of interview-talk show. George, the host gave news that a Baptist Church clearly stated that Heath Ledger "is in hell now" because, one of the reasons, he starred in Brokeback Mountain.  After watching that i was agitated. i really believe that if you go to hell or not depends on your relationship with God and how you are as a person. Seriously, that BS church (or whomever stated that)frustrates me. Don't they believe that our sins are FORGIVEN? I'm confused about why they are so sure that Heath Ledger would have total damnation when they have no freakin idea of what a kind of person he was. They are utterly judgmental!  Sure, Heath promoted homosexuality, but who the frik are they to decide and say who's going to hell or not?  I'm sorry if this is a bad place for me to post this. I really don't know any other places to post this at.  I just needed to let this out. Sorry.  I just pray that Heath Ledger can rest in peace.

The church this reader is talking about is the Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) out of Topeka, Kansas.  Here is the church's Wikipedia summary.    

In a nutshell, the WBC is composed of around 50-60 members (primarily the direct and decending family members of Fred Phelps, the actual preacher/founder), and spends most of it's time and resources picketing Pride parades, professional football and baseball games, Disney-sponsored events, and, worst of all, funerals of individuals like Matthew Sheppard, fallen soldiers, and possibly Heath Ledger, according to this article.  The WBC pickets the funerals and other events to spread its message that anyone who supports homosexuality will burn in hell.

Everytime I hear about "Reverend" Fred Phelps or the WBC, my initial thought is to get angry and want to punch Phelps in the face. 

Then I remind myself what a ridiculous band of people the WBC is made up of, and I focus my anger on the press for giving these idiots air and print space.

A few years ago, as I was trying to come to grips with being both gay and a Christian, I spent a lot of time listening to people tell me why homosexuality was wrong. 

I ultimately came to a different conclusion - God is a God of love, not hate and bigotry (the post on that issue is here).

In my opinion, when an organization such as the WBC spends so much time and energy promoting hate, it cannot be further away from the message of God.  Remember the Nazi's?

Coming Out: The Parents, Part II **Updated Dec 7, 2007

This post is continued from Coming Out: The Parents.

First off, I apologize for taking such a long break from writing. 

My slacking off was due to a variety of factors.  At the top of the list was laziness - I just haven't felt like writing until recently. 

Other factors, however, have also contributed to my absence from the web.  For one, I've been completely slammed at work.  I'm mean, slammed.  Apparently, everyone loves litigation and arguments around the holidays - why they love it is beyond me.  I long for the slow days of summer, where lawyers in my field usually get a break. 

But alas, we have a long way to go. 

Also, I've been dating a ton, with unsatisfactory results, and recently, I had LASIK surgery performed on my eyes.  20-15 vision, baby!

But we can talk about all that later, because now, I want to tell you about Thanksgiving with the folks . . .

Before my parents even arrived, I'd been tossing around the idea of waiting to tell them about my sexuality until we were back at their home in the Midwest, in a place where they feel comfortable and secure. 

Some of Urban Insanity's readers recommended waiting until I was visiting them, as did some of my friends, and that theory certainly weighed on my mind, even if I saw it as an excuse to push off the inevitable conversation until a later date. 

Ultimately, it was that "theory of coming out" that made me decide not to tell them over Thanksgiving. 

Well, that, and my own cowardice. 

So, I didn't tell them, and instead, I've decided to book a flight home for a non-holiday weekend in either January or February to attempt this dreaded conversation again.

But that's not the end of the story. 

Some interesting developments happened over this holiday. 

My folks stayed in the Magnolia Hotel in Downtown Dallas - if you're ever visiting here and can't get into the Melrose Hotel, I highly recommend it.  Great deals and excellent rooms in the heart of downtown. 

While in Dallas, they wanted to visit George Bush's Crawford Ranch.  Yes, my folks are staunch Republicans.  We drove 2.5 hours on Texas's overcrowded highways until we hit the back roads of Crawford.  Once there, we stopped and dodged quarter-sized hail to run into the safety of a Bush souvenir store, where the shopkeeper and my Mom badgered me into take a photo with a faded, life-sized stand-up poster of "W."  It was an experience. 

Once we found the entrance to the ranch, we took a snapshot of the gate from the inside of my car, and then quickly turned around to head back to the city. 

Even if you're a Republican, you can leave this tourist adventure off of your agenda next time you visit the Lone Star State.  It's definitely not worth the trip.

We did all kinds of other touristy stuff, but I'll spare you the boring details. 

I will tell you, however, that on the long car rides all over town with my folks and sister, we had lots of conversations. 

One of our favorite topics of conversation involves my Dad's best friend's son, who is an angry, extremely flamboyant gay guy. 

The discussions about this angry kid were mainly between my sister and Dad this time, and I noticed that my Mom remained strangely quiet. 

Usually, she's right in the middle of these talks. 

It bothered me that she remained quiet, perhaps because it reaffirmed my suspicion that she suspects that I'm gay. 

It's also made me wonder if I should have the sexuality talk with her first, alone.  I'm weighing the pros and cons of that right now. 

More to follow after Christmas . . .

Coming Out: The Parents

"My parents are coming to town over Thanksgiving. I think I'm going to come out to them."

The others sitting at my table looked at me, some with skepticism and some with optimism, as I made this proclamation earlier this week at a sports bar downtown. 

I've come out to most of my friends, and I'm out at work now.  The most important people in the world to me, however, don't yet know that I'm gay. 

I keep thinking my parents must have some idea. 

I haven't brought a girl home since high school.  I avoid conversations about relationships, and hell, I'm not a bad looking guy. 

I imagine that in their eyes, I should've been married a long time ago, like the other guys in my old hometown.  But every time I'm home, they ask me about girls, try to set me up with some of the locals, and talk about my old girlfriends. 

I can't grasp how they don't know yet.   

I sure wish I could give my parents what they'd really like - grandkids.

My parents would be fantastic grandparents. 

They are great nurturers.  They are well-known in my hometown for helping people out . . . I can't count the number of Rotary and Kiwanis awards my mom has been honored with for her service to the community.  My dad is a farmer, and he employs 5-10 poor rednecks every year during planting and harvest seasons - as their employer, he displays more compassion for their well-being than they've ever experienced from their own family members, and many of these lost souls look to my dad as their mentor and friend.

For small town standards, they're probably a little liberal, so that'll make things easier. 

But I've been putting off tell them about my sexuality for two reasons, one, because I'm a big wuss when it comes to talking about it, and two, because I know it's going to be hard for them. 

And I hate to see my parents unhappy. 

My mom is so cute - she's like a little cheerleader, an 55-year-old who looks ten years younger with blond hair and stylish hats. 

My dad's a happy-go-lucky guy who likes golf, beer, and home repairs. 

Neither of them encounter gay people very often. 

My dad's best friend's son is gay, and that kid is quite possibly the most effeminate, angry guy in the state.  They also know of the local, hometown gay guy who runs the radio station and tries to sleep with every married man in town.  Needless to say, it'll be a challenge when they find out.

I haven't reconciled how to handle it yet . . . it'll definitely be a difficult step for me to take . . . but I'm committed to doing it. 

September 5, 2007 UPDATE

Several of the international readers of this blog have asked what happened with me coming out to my parents.  I should've clarified that Thanksgiving is an American holiday that occurs in November. 

So . . . in my unending efforts to put off telling my folks that I'm gay, I've set the date of truth for several months from now, when they come to visit me in the city. 

Right now, it seems like a long time . . . but Thanksgiving weekend is less than 3 months away. 

Yikes. 

My mom and dad called last night, and we talked for almost an hour, despite the fact that I was exhausted from work and had just returned home at 10:00 p.m. from a date with a genuinely nice guy.

My folks didn't ask about my love life at all.

In fact, I've noticed that, in the last year or so, they've asked less and less about my relationships. 

While I was in law school, they asked about it a lot more often. 

Of course, while I was dating Rick, the game warden, I lied to them frequently and told them that I was dating women. 

Then, shortly after Rick and I broke up from our secret, Brokeback Mountain-type relationship, and I went through those difficult few months of depression, I received a phone call from my folks.

I will never forget that night.

It was the first and only time that my parents probably realized that I might've had some mental struggles going on.

I was lying in bed, curled around a long pillow and under the thick blanket in my icy-cool room.

We talked about the usual BS--how successful my law school career was going, how my house was doing, how my sister was doing--and then they asked the question dreaded by all people in singledom, especially those of us who are closeted. 

"Are you dating anyone right now?"

I always hated that question, unless of course I had a girlfriend, which I always did in the old days.

But in the more recent past, I'd responded to that question with cheerful stories of college co-eds who'd hung around with me and my buddies, and occasionally, I'd make up a story about a girl just to satisfy their concern for my social life and to give them something to talk about to the small town gossips back home. 

But this time, my difficult break-up with Rick had just occurred, and I was fighting depression like you wouldn't believe.

I just didn't have the energy. 

I shook my head, stared up at the dark, bare ceiling above my bed, and replied, "No I'm not, mom.  There's no one." 

That comment, darkened further by my dreary, depressed mood, caused an awkward silence on the phone, followed by me saying goodbye rather quickly.

After that call, I noticed that my parents both made the effort to say "I love you" more often at the end of our phone conversations, and, importantly, they stopped asking about my dating life as often.

It does come up now and then, but noticeably less than in the past.

In my conversation with them last night on the phone, I could almost feel their desire to ask me who I'm dating right now.  I don't know how to explain what I felt, but it's like a feeling of impending doom or sorrow that you know you can't put off forever. . . like a train wreck that's bound to happen even if you do everything you can to stop it. 

But as usual, my parents didn't bring anything up about my dating life, and when I felt like it might be a subject of conversation, I quickly cut off the phone call, using the excuse that it was 11 p.m., and I was exhausted.   

I truly feel that my parents would rather have a gay son who's honest about his relationships and talks with them about everything important in his life, especially love, than a "straight" son who appears successful, but lonely and isolated. 

I just hope I have the courage to tell them in November. 

October 28, 2007

The pressure to tell my folks about my sexuality is greater than ever. 

A few weeks ago, my good friend BOB came out to his mother and sister with great results, and this weekend, BOB is introducing his boyfriend to them.

BOB's positive experience may have reinvigorated me, but it didn't do anything to dissuade my anxiety about coming out. 

My folks and my sister will be in Dallas over Thanksgiving.  However, I'll be back home for opening weekend of deer season the weekend before they travel here. 

My friends have recommended that I "have the talk" while I'm visiting them because (1) it'll be on their own turf, and they can escape to a comfortable place if they need to, and (2) they'll have a few days to let things sink in before visiting me.  If I go this route, that means that I have about 20 days until my life takes a dramatic turn.  And as an added pressure, my ex-boyfriend, Rick - the game warden - will be hunting with me that weekend. 

I can totally see myself making up excuses to avoid this inevitable conversation, but I'm more committed than ever to finally getting it over with.

Continued:  Click here. 

Distraction by Billie

I've been bad about posting this last week, but I have to tell you that it's been the wildest, busiest two weeks of my professional career. 

Literally, I knew it'd be tough being a lawyer when I finished law school, but these last 14 days or so have been ridiculous. 

On Wednesday, I head out to Los Angeles for a client meeting; this will be my first trip ever to LA, and I'm completely stoked.  We're staying in a luxury hotel on the beach in Santa Monica.  It's way out of my price range, but luckily, the firm is paying. 

I plan to do some writing on the trip, and I look forward to at least one wild night in LA (probably Friday night). 

Tonight, I tried to take my mind off work by watching a little bit of the Cowboys game.  Eventually, I turned off the television and sat down to write.

I wanted some Billie Holiday music to set the mood for my writing, but I couldn't find my CDs, and I haven't yet graduated to MP3s or to the wonders of the IPOD world (I know, I'm a dinosaur). 

Instead, I went to Youtube, and once again got distracted by watching some of the captivating videos and music clips. 

Here is one of my absolute favorite Billie songs - her sweet, but haunting, voice never ceases to make me forget about the stress at work. 

Unfortunately, it also distracts me from doing more productive things, like writing or going over depositions, both of which I wanted to do tonight at some point. 

In any event, enjoy this song. 

It's one of her very best.

Billie Holiday

I've had a very eventful last few days. 

For one, I attended my first PRIDE event . . . something I thought I'd never do.  It was absolutely crazy, and I have at least one long blog that I need to write about it.   

Secondly, as some of you know, I'm a baby attorney (a brand new one).  Earlier today, I went to my first hearing, which was in a small, surprisingly charming town in Southern Mississippi. Nothing wild happened, but it was certainly an experience that I'll never forget.

Third, I attended a GLBT Chamber of Commerce dinner tonight.  I went because, over the last few weeks, I've felt a new need to give back to the gay community, to impact it in some positive way.  I'm not yet sure what this new passion I've developed will manifest itself into . . . but it's something that I'm definitely committed to.

I plan to write about all of these topics, but I'm tired from traveling and want to crash soon.

So instead of writing a long blog tonight, I want to share something with you that is very special to me . . . the music of the great Billie Holiday.  After the GLBT dinner, which was at the historic Melrose Hotel in Dallas, my friends and I had drinks in the comfortable hotel bar. 

I orderd a Bacardi and Diet Coke and asked the jazz piano player if she knew any Billie Holiday songs. 

She grinned and said that Billie was her absolute favorite. 

So . . . after a very generous tip from me, the pianist played several moving songs, reminding me just how special Billie Holiday was.  Sadly, Billie's life was filled with tragedy, drug abuse, and tumultuous relationships.  However, it was also full of love, admiration, and endless musical talent. 

Her haunting voice is an amazing reflection of the highs and lows that she went through, and they are somewhat reflective of what we, as gay men, experience in our own lives. 

Enjoy this song. 

This Gift

I'm posting a great song tonight even though (1) it's not Christmas, and (2) the song's lyrics don't exactly match with the reason I'm posting it. 

But, I'm a huge fan of Christmas (which is only 3 months away), I'm a big fan of 98 Degrees (which is a constant source of amusement for my buddies), and tonight, I had my 3rd date with a really fantastic guy (who hopefully doesn't know about the blog). 

Too often, my blog seems to focus on the challenges and struggles of being gay, but there are so many other positives to this alternative lifestyle that I should be focusing on. 

One of best things we gays have is that feeling when you just start dating a guy . . . the goosebumps and churning stomachs that our straight brothers got to first experience years ago.  Even though we may be in our 20's, 30's, 40's and up before we truly experience the joys of blossoming romance, it's still a beautiful thing. 

So . . . I guess I'm posting this song because I wanted to share my good mood with you.  Even if it doesn't work out with the guy I was with tonight, dating in the gay world is a beautiful thing.

Enjoy the song, and feel free to rag on me for liking 98 Degrees!

100 Years

Great songs truly captivate me sometimes. 

Ever since I received my first cassette tape back in the 80's, I've used music to calm myself down, to transition into a romantic or a sappy mood, and to motivate myself to tackle whatever task is looming in front of me, be it a sport, a challenge, or something for work. 

Today, as I spent Labor Day reading over 1000 pages of horribly-technical deposition testimony, I needed an uplifting song to keep my sanity in check.

So . . . I pulled an old tune out of the dusty library of cyberspace and listened to it about 30 times. 

It's Five For Fighting's "100 Years," which is an absolutely awesome song.

Unfortunately, the song didn't motivate me to work.

Instead, it caused my mind to drift away . . .

I thought about my grandmother, who died in May of this year.  (See blog entry).  "100 Years" has always reminded me of her, and how rich her life was . . . from start to finish, and I guess I haven't fully finished mourning her death yet.   

I let the soothing sounds of this hypnotic song take my thoughts away from the seven-inch-thick deposition binder gathering dust on my dining room table, and I wondered what she was doing . . . if she was watching me from somewhere.

If my grandmother was watching, she was probably wishing she could've made a divine appearance in my dining room to scold me for taking such a long break -- she certainly was a hard worker.

Anyway, I didn't have a big revelation in mind by introducing this song to you, but it's a very special one to me because it reminds me of my closest grandparent.

Hopefully, you'll love it as much as I do.

Famous in a Small Town

Every once in a while, a song comes out that triggers emotions inside of us.  It might be a country song, something alternative, or a top 10 hit on the pop charts.  The song touches us because it elicits a memory of something beautiful or something sad, or because it reminds us of how our lives were in the past. 

For me, that special new song is "Famous in a Small Town," an upbeat country song by Miranda Lambert. 

*If it doesn't open, and you want to hear it, click here.

I first saw Miranda perform when she didn't even have a band.  I'd been tubing down the Guadalupe River south of Austin, Texas, and my straight buddies and I ended up at Gruene Hall (pronounced "green"), the oldest dance hall in Texas.  Gruene Hall is a total dive, but it's the absolute best place to watch budding stars like Miranda put on a helluva show.  Throughout the short concert (she didn't have many songs back then), I sat there in my swimming trunks, flip flops, and straw cowboy hat and let her lyrics and sweet voice take me back to memories of my home town.

Listening to "Famous in a Small Town," I wonder what my life would be like if I ever moved back to my old town, population 7,100 for the last 40 years.

Some things wouldn't be good.  For one, I'd definitely remain in the closet . . . at least at first, until I got sick of it. 

Eventually, family and friends would question why I refused to date the local divorcees and early twenty-somethings looking for a lawyer-husband.  It'd only be a matter of time before the rumors would start.

Matt didn't ask me out again after our first date.

Why didn't he like Meredith, or Amy Beth, or Casey, etc.? 

Do you think he's gay?  He must be gay.

Eventually, people would figure it out.  And then what?  My folks would probably be embarrassed.  My grandparents could quite possibly disown, or at least disinherit me.  The locals would love the gossip, and it'd be the talk of the town for a while.

However, people would eventually get used to it.  Then, hopefully, my "famous" stint would fade away and I could fall into the steady groove of small town life. 

Ok, now the good stuff. 

I love it that I can get a $7 haircut in my hometown that's better than a $30-50 haircut here in the city, even if Thelma's Salon is only open from 9am - 2pm, Monday through Thursday.  I love hearing stories about all of my high school buddies who are married to their old sweethearts or are in jail for failing to stop their redneck antics after graduating.  I love it that I can step out of my parents' back door on the opening day of gun season and walk to my deer stand. 

I smile when I hear the same old die-hards  holding onto the hope that my high school football team will win a state championship, even though the district is just too small to draw enough talented players. 

In the 18 years that I lived in that small town, things didn't change much, and I love it that nothing much will change in the next 18 years either.  The reliability of the town gives me comfort.

But not enough comfort to leave the city and move back there.

I mean, come on guys, I'm gay! 

I need my professional basketball, museums, great restaurants that serve something besides fried catfish, and the open-mindedness that only a city can provide. 

Still, it's fun to reminisce about the old days, especially when a song like "Famous in a Small Town" makes me tap my fingers on the side of my laptop.

I hope you enjoy this song as much as I did. 

Miss Betty

Every now and then, our lives cross paths with someone who makes a profound impact, and sometimes, for reasons we may not even know, our thoughts drift to fading memories of that special person.

Tonight I thought about Miss Betty. 

Miss Betty was a lunch lady who served me breakfast from a lunch line every single day for three years while I was an officer in the army. 

This obviously isn't her picture, but for some reason it reminded me of what she probably looked like in her youth.  I only knew her as an older woman, a black lady with a friendly (albeit nearly toothless) smile, a generous serving hand, and a warm heart. 

Over the course of my three years in her dining hall, Miss Betty served grits, eggs, greasy hamburgers, and everything else under the sun to tens of thousands of soldiers.  She'd worked in food service for over forty years, and had to work long past the age she should've retired just to make ends meet. 

The hard work, ridiculously long hours, and rough cafeteria conditions had taken its toll on her fragile body. 

She had permanent burn scars on her hands, her back pain was terrible, and the grease from the serving line seemed to coat her arms and hands like wax.  I don't think there is a more challenging job anywhere than cooking and serving food in a cafeteria.

But through it all, I can't remember a single day that Miss Betty didn't have a smile on her face when I went through her line.

She knew my breakfast order by heart, and over time, she took an interest in my career and my life.

Miss Betty knew about my old girlfriends, she knew about my old truck that kept breaking down, and she always laughed when I told her about the silly antics of my young soldiers. 

When my parents came to visit, I always took them to see Miss Betty, and Miss Betty dished out extra portions to my soldiers and friends whenever I was with them in her endless serving line. 

I invited Miss Betty to my promotion ceremony, where I was promoted from first lieutenant to captain.  I was shaking hands and talking to a group of captains when she humbly walked into the reception in her cook's uniform, clearly embarrassed and feeling inadequate.  I was thrilled that she took the time to attend, and abruptly stopped my conversation to ensure she felt welcome and comfortable.  Her shy smile that day touched my heart, and in my mind, she was the guest of honor at that important occasion.      

I find that my eyes are moist with thoughts of her, even after all these years. 

Towards the end of my tour, Miss Betty began missing a lot of work.  The other lunch ladies told me that her back was getting really bad, probably from the decades of bending over the serving trays and standing on the hard tiles. 

She went into surgery right before my move to law school, and sadly, I never got to say goodbye. 

Instead, I left a card for her with the other ladies.  It seemed like a nice gesture at the time, but now that I look back, I wish I would've done more. 

Because even now, I think about Miss Betty and her sweet smile. 

It's amazing that someone with such a challenging life maintained such a great spirit and was able to brighten every single day for me during those three years just by smiling at me and asking about my day.   

Miss Betty, God bless you, and thank you for touching my life tonight like you did so many years ago.   

Coming Out: The Best Friend

I've got to ask you a serious question when you're ready.  I received a phone call this week with a question about you and I need to ask you the same question.  You may or may not know what this is about, but I expect that it will be difficult to discuss if you do know.  No rush, but I've got to ask. 

I stared at the glaring email on my brightly-lit computer screen. 

Holy shit!

That was my first thought when I opened the July 10th email from Hunter, my best friend and law partner.

My heart rate accelerated through the roof. 

Immediately following the shock was a deep sense of regret.

This is not how I wanted him to find out. 

It was supposed to be different.

We were supposed to grab beers.  I wanted to get him buzzed so he'd take the news easier.  I've come out to so many friends now with no problems.  Why couldn't it have been the same with Hunter?

The truth is that, besides my parents, Hunter is the one friend for whom I've never had the balls to tell that I'm gay. 

You have to understand our background. 

We met during the first year of law school, when the pressure is immense and competition is at its worst.  Hunter and I weren't in the same classes, but we met in the library early on. 

I couldn't help but notice him . . . he was tall and blond with intelligent blue eyes and a charming smile.  He was your typical All-American guy, from a tiny, rural town where guys wore boots year-round and married their high school sweethearts.

He sported a big, gold wedding ring on his left hand. 

Over the course of our first year, Hunter and I became friends.  Like with many of my straight friends, my initial attraction to Hunter faded. 

But my feelings for him as a friend and brother solidified. 

Unlike many of the cutthroat, egomaniac, wannabe attorneys I dealt with everyday, Hunter was honest, caring, and good natured.  He was my rock of safety and serenity in the dangerous sea of sharks known as law school.  And he was fun -- we could sit around and bullshit with each other for hours and never get bored.

We became partners in mock trial and moot court. 

His boyish charm, disarmingly handsome features, and polished courtroom demeanor, coupled with my aggressive, high-energy, courtroom theatrics, balanced each other and melded into the perfect combination for success. 

We were unstoppable, and we dominated every competition.

We forced each other to try out for Law Review, the most prestigious and selective organization a law student can compete for, and we were both selected.  While on Law Review, when one of us couldn't finish a project, the other would step in and help out.  This was possible because we completely trusted each other's work product.   

Hunter and I were always together when we were on campus.  In fact, people often joked that I was his second spouse. 

We not only competed together, but also studied together, lifted weights together, and ate lunch together practically every day. 

We planned our careers with each other in mind. 

It was because of me that Hunter interviewed at a large firm in the city, and it was partially because of me that Hunter ended up accepting a job there instead of at a mom-and-pop firm in his own small town.

Hunter's wife--his high school sweetheart--was beautiful, supportive, and completely in love with her man. 

They had their first child during law school, and I was at the hospital the day after she was born. 

After that, I helped Hunter and his wife through a rough miscarriage, and supported them during the birth of their second daughter. 

Hunter knew my parents.  I knew his folks.  He was there for me when my grandmother died, and I supported him when his sister went to rehab. 

In essence, we both knew all the intricate details of each other's lives. 

There was just one thing missing. 

One big thing . . . he had no idea I was gay. 

And I was too much of a pussy to tell him. 

Instead, in the last year, I avoided deep conversations with him.  I kept everything on the surface level, and resisted talking too much about my personal life, the life that he had no idea about. 

Even though our offices were side-by-side, I could feel a gap constantly widening between us. 

I was meeting all kinds of new, cool friends in the city, both gay and straight, and I wanted to include Hunter in this. 

But instead, I pushed him away because I feared losing him as my best friend. 

Then, as I read his email, I knew that I'd been wrong.  I knew that I should've told him about my sexuality after I figured out that I could never go back to girls. 

I replied to his email:  There are a couple significant things I've been meaning to talk to you about for a while now, but timing hasn't been on my side . . . this is probably one of them.  Whenever you get your day rolling and feel like talking, come on by.

My response went out at 7:30 a.m. that morning. 

The following hour, I waited nervously, and didn't even think about opening any of the boring case files on my desk. 

Finally, my best friend walked into my office, shut the door, and sat down.  Despite the hammer that was pounding in my heart, I casually closed my email account, spun around in my chair, and chewed on the cap of a uni-ball pen. 

Part of me wanted his "question" to be something completely unrelated to my sexuality.  But another part of me wanted to finally get this conversation that I'd been avoiding for so long over with. 

We talked about nothing for a few minutes. 

Then, I opened up the figurative door. 

"So whatever you heard . . . it's probably true.  It's something I've been meaning to talk to you about for a long time now."

He didn't speak for a couple seconds, as if he was meeting me for the first time and didn't know how to handle me.

"How, uh, long have you known?"

"That's part of why I haven't told you," I replied, "I didn't really figure this out until a little over a year ago.  The timing wasn't good, with the bar exam and all."

I kept going, even though both of us knew that my answer was bullshit. 

I should've told him as soon as I figured out that I couldn't ever go back to girls.  As my best buddy, he should've heard it from me and not from some random person over the phone. 

He knew it, and I knew it, and I needed to fess up.

"Honestly, Hunter, I've just been too much of a puss to tell you.  I've already told a bunch of other friends, but for some reason, with you, it's been hard as hell." 

I didn't know what else to say. 

Luckily, he stepped up.  "I can't even imagine living like you've had to live.  I mean, keeping this all a secret.  That really has to suck.  Do your folks know?"

"No."

He looked down at the floor and didn't say anything for almost a minute.

Finally, I spoke.  "Are you, um, pissed or . . . disappointed that I didn't tell you earlier?"

He shook his head, "I understand why you didn't tell me until you were sure.  But . . . there's one part of me that thinks that you should've told me when you figured out it wasn't going to work with girls.  I mean, it makes me wonder if everything we talked about was a lie back then.  But on the other hand, I'm kinda glad you didn't tell me before the bar exam . . . it mighta thrown me off a little . . . I just don't know what to say."

He continued.  "I mean, I feel bad that I wasn't there to help you through this," he said earnestly, "You had to live a lie, and it had to be hard.  I wish I coulda . . . I don't know . . ."

"No, it's something I had to figure out on my own.  I'm just sorry you didn't hear it from me.  It's not like telling someone that you're getting married or having a baby.  Telling someone you're gay doesn't exactly illicit a positive response." 

"No, I guess it doesn't.  Don't worry about how I found out about it.  I think I just need some time to let everything sink in."

Hunter and I talked for a few more minutes, and then he walked six steps back into his office. 

I leaned back in my chair and went over the whole conversation again in my head.

In the past, when I've told close friends about my sexuality, I've felt like a great weight was lifted off my shoulders.  I've also felt completely drained of all energy.  This was no exception. 

In fact, I didn't get any work done for the next two days. 

I tried to act normal around Hunter, but found myself analyzing his every comment carefully. 

I left him alone, however, and only once brought up our conversation again to let him know that he could ask me any questions if he wanted to. 

Hunter was a little more distant that usual for the next couple weeks, but recently, he's been more chatty and like his old self. 

In fact, it almost feels like we're getting closer again. 

I feel that our friendship will eventually re-solidify itself, but I fear that there will always be a part of our relationship that has changed for the worse . . . perhaps a slight loss of respect from his end because I misled him for over a year or because he heard the news about my sexuality from someone else . . .

But hopefully I'm wrong. 

Hopefully, now that I can be completely honest with Hunter, I will grow closer to him.

Regardless, I will always regret that I didn't come out to my best friend before he found out from someone else. 

Lost and Found

I've been very lucky. 

I'm 30 years old, and until earlier this month, I'd never lost a close family member. 

But on May 2, 2007, my grandmother died.

She wasn't just my grandmother. 

She was "Granny," my closest grandparent and a big influence in my life. 

She was a farmer's wife, a mother of four, and a selfless woman who loved Big Band music and made the best homemade rolls I've ever tasted. 

Until the day she died, she'd showered her family with endearing love.

My dad warned me at the end of April that her health was failing, and I bought a plane ticket to return to my small hometown for a few days to spend time with her. 

Unfortunately, Granny passed away two days before my flight. 

I attended the sad visitation and mourned her death with close and distant family members.

Along with the other children, I released a balloon as a symbol of my own "goodbye." 

It was a nice, lighthearted gesture, but it didn't give me the feeling of closure that it did for some of the other grandchildren; for me, closure wouldn't come until later. 

After the burial, the immediate family returned to Granny's house, where friends brought fried chicken (a Southern tradition), dressing, sandwiches, dozens of desserts, cheeses, and everything else you can imagine.

Granny's best friend, Ann, was the only non-family-member who stayed with us at the house throughout the day.

Ann had spoken to Granny on the phone every single day for 70 years.  She knew so much about Granny's rich life, and her stories kept us captivated for hours.

Granny was a classic surviver of the Great Depression, and hid cash around the house until the day she died.  In the early years of her marriage when times were tough, she cooked everything from squirrel to raccoon for my grandpa.  She also used to chase my dad and uncle - twins - around with pigs' heads that she'd skinned in the kitchen. 

Like Ann's stories, my own memories of her were vivid. 

When I was young, Granny took care of me.  She taught me how to cook, how to ride a bike, and how to play the piano.  She told me stories about my dad and his siblings that I wouldn't have ever heard otherwise.

More importantly, she showed me how love could conquer any problems that my relatives faced, whether it be divorce, drugs, alcoholism, or lack of faith. 

Her love was unconditional, more enduring of hardship than it should've been, but more pure that any love that I've ever seen.

Her love for my stubborn grandfather, a recent victim of alzheimer's, was unwaiverable.  And Granny's love for her children - a hippie, an angry Southern Baptist, a crazy person, and a classic Type A (my dad) was unpretentious, unqualified, and unending.   

I was Granny's "golden child," - the athlete, the scholar, and the ex-military soldier who she'd bragged about and worried about incessantly.

For the last ten years, every time I journeyed home, Granny asked me about "what girl I was dating."  She wanted me to produce a litter of babies that'd have my father's and grandfather's last name. 

It was an obsession for her.   

Of course I never told her that I was gay. 

That would've crushed her spirits.  She'd never met a gay person, and I know she wouldn't have understood.

Now that she's in a better place, however, I know she grasps why I stopped bringing girls around the farm and why I never married. 

That knowledge gives me a sense of peace, and I finally feel like I've said goodbye to her. 

I found closure with Granny's death when I realized that I no longer had to lie to her about my sexuality. 

Even though this new-found honesty between us didn't come until after she died, it still gives me a sense of relief to know that she sees who I really am and realizes that I can be happy without a traditional lifestyle. 

Coming Out: The First Friend

Coming out to that first buddy can be a big challenge. 

Some people muster enough courage to do it over lunch or dinner.  Others might take a weekend trip with that special friend to really have a good discussion, or they might simply shoot out an email because they fear their friend's reaction. 

For me, however, it took a lot of alcohol and some serious frustration before I could tell my first friend that I was gay:

On one random weekend last fall, Travis, one of my straight friends, called.

"Hey, what are you doin' tonight?"   

"I don't know yet," I reply.

"You're coming with me to the Walrus Bar.  It's opening night tonight."

"Where is it?"

"Downtown.  Next to my office."

"Cool.  I'll be at your place at 10:00 p.m.  Does that work?"

"Yeah, see you then."

I hang up and sit back in my office chair, thinking of ways to sneak off to a gay bar after Travis gets occupied with a girl.  At this point, I'd only lived in the city for a couple weeks and didn't have any gay friends, so I was in the habit of going out with my straight buddies, helping them score with some chicks, and then rolling solo to the "family" clubs at around 12:30 a.m.  It wasn't fun, but that was all I knew back then. 

As planned, I meet Travis at 10:00 p.m., and we drive to the Walrus Bar. 

When we walk in, I notice that the Walrus isn't a typical metro bar.  It's more like a college dive with cheap pitchers of beer, hardwood floors, and drunk, blond coeds on the prowl for rich husbands. 

Travis and I grab a table and scout the room for hotties. 

Of course, I totally ignore the girls and instead scope for possible "family" members.

Unfortunately, the Walrus is a straight guy's mecca--the guys are few and far between, and the drunk women are plentiful.  This doesn't surprise me.  Most clubs are like that when they first open.

In the past, when Travis and I had gone out, we'd discovered that we were about equal when it came to picking up women.  Neither of us had looks that overshadowed the other's, and both of us were able to carry a conversation.  While neither of us claimed to be the next Brad Pitt, we usually didn't have trouble pulling numbers. 

All of this made me the perfect wing man in Travis's eyes.  In fact, during those first few weeks that I'd moved to the city, he dragged me out several nights a week.

Unlike our other excursions, however, this night was anything but typical. 

This night, I was some kind of magnet for horny girls while Travis repulsed them.

It was hilarious, for a while anyway. 

After a few drinks, a raunchy-looking twenty-two-year-old walks up to me. 

She doesn't even glance at Travis.  Instead, she holds out her hand to me and says, "Hey there."

I can't help but glance at Raunchy Girl's breasts, which aren't big, but are about to fall out of her thin blouse.  Raunchy Girl's hair is bleach blond with jet black roots inching out.  She's wearing a pound of eye makeup and some too-bright red lipstick. 

"Hi," I smile. 

"You're hot!"

I laugh, partially because of how forward she's being and partially because I know that Travis is pissed, not because he likes Raunchy Girl, but because she didn't even notice him. 

"Thanks.  Nice shirt." 

She looks down at her breasts, as if to check and see if anything fell out. 

"Let's get a drink.  I know the bartender."

A couple drinks later, Travis and I ditch Raunchy Girl and walk out on the patio. 

I'm buzzed at this point, and actually wondering how Travis will take it when I decide (one day) to tell him that I'm gay.  I have no idea that that moment is coming very soon.

Travis, dressed sharply in his Lucky Jeans and a tight, button-down shirt, complains about Raunchy Girl and about the lack of hot chicks in the bar. 

As if on cue, a pretty brunette in a sun dress and her skinny blond friend walk right by us. 

I know what Travis is thinking before he says it.

"Matt, let's move back inside."    

Moments later, we're sitting at a table by the door. 

The girls must've seen us looking at them, because they slyly glance at us from the bar. 

Then, to our surprise, they sit at the table beside us and sip a pair of Cosmopolitans.  I look at them a little more closely.  The brunette is strikingly pretty, with intelligent brown eyes and a sensual body.  The blond isn't bad either, but next to her friend, she seems a little plain.

Travis practically drools over the brunette. 

But always the patient hunter, he waits to make his move. 

It's only when the girls make eye contact with us several times that Travis walks over to them.  I'm not really in the mood to talk to these girls, and I think that Travis realizes that, so he leaves me guarding our table. 

Moments later, Travis walks back, pissed.

"She likes you," he says.

"What?" 

"The hot ass girl.  She wants you to go over there."

I laugh.  Whenever Travis doesn't get his way, he gets bitter in a funny way.  I know that he's not really pissed, but just frustrated at the situation.

"I'll just let her come over here," I say, as I couldn't care less about this girl, despite her exotic features.

That doesn't make Travis feel any better. 

But we're both shocked, when, five minutes later, the girls walk over. 

"Thanks for saying hi," the brunette says flirtatiously.

I stand up, introduce myself, and spew out a bunch of bullshit about how we were in a deep conversation that's now finished. 

The girls actually buy the story. 

Just when we've won them back over, however, out of no where, Raunchy Girl walks over.  She actually pushes through the two girls and stands in the middle of our circle staring at me.

"Why are you talking to these two girls?!"  She belts out as she throws her thumb over her shoulder.  "They are so ugly!" 

Nothing like this has ever happened to me, and I'm speechless. 

So are Travis and the two girls.

"If you want to talk to a real woman, I'll be at the bar!"

Raunchy Girl storms away after giving the other girls a nasty stare. 

Now it's the brunette's turn.  "O.k., if you all want to talk to us, come on over to our table," she says. 

The brunette and the blond turn and walk back to their table, which is only a few feet away.  I see it as a silly gesture, so I just back down in my own chair. 

"Matt!"  Travis exclaims, "What're you doing?  Get over there!" 

At this point, I'm flattered by all the attention, but annoyed at the way the night is going.  Plus, I see my chances of escaping to the "family" bars as a distant hope. 

Frustrated, I muster up the courage to tell Travis why I don't give a shit about these aggressive girls. 

"Travis, on a scale of 1 to 10, how drunk are you right now?"

"What?!" 

"Come with me outside," I say as I walk towards the patio door and repeat the last question.

"I don't know, dude.  Maybe an 8.  Why?"

"Um, if there was something major in my life, would you want me to tell you?  I mean, would you rather us go on being friends and you being in the dark about something?"

I realize that my question makes absolutely no sense, so I just blurt it out, "Trav, I'm gay.  I like guys."

"Are you serious?"  He asks. 

"Yeah, I'm not kidding, dude."

A wave of calmness suddenly falls over my friend, as if his predatory skills vanish for the night.

"Well, that's . . . cool, I guess."

"It's cool?"

"Yeah, Matt.  You know, I think I've always kind of known." 

"Really?"

"Yes, it's not your mannerisms or anything.  I mean, you don't act gay.  But . . . I can't put my finger on it.  I just knew."

For the rest of the night, Travis and I talk about my ex-boyfriends, my girlfriends during law school, and the rest of my coming out journey. 

It turns out to be a great night, and I somehow even manage to make out with the brunette before we leave, which practically throws Travis over the edge. 

In the months that have followed that night at the Walrus, Travis and I have become much closer friends.  To my surprise, he could've cared less about my sexuality.  The only thing that Travis was upset about was that I'd lied to him for the three years that we'd known each other. 

He's now fully integrated into my life, however, and shares in my dating and relationship failures and successes. 

I have Johnny Walker, Raunchy Girl, and an exotic brunette who kissed a gay guy to thank for helping me over this first hurdle. 

More importantly, I have Travis to thank for taking everything so well and for valuing my friendship enough to accept me for who I am.

Gays and Depression

This is a very difficult post for me to write, and until a few days ago, I'd convinced myself that this was a private matter that didn't belong on the blog. 

But then I had a conversation in a chat room with an army soldier who absolutely hated himself and other gay men and was disgusted by homosexuality in general.  This brief chat reminded me just how tough the struggle was for me to reconcile my career goals, family relationships, and religion with my sexuality. 

Hopefully, by reading this entry, someone out there will better understand what they're going through right now and find their own way to cope with it.    

For two years, up until March of 2006, I suffered from depression. 

I never went to get counseling for it, was never medicated, and didn't even really know what was wrong with me at the time. 

It all happened while I was in law school, a place where a lot of people, gay and straight, experience depression because of the stress and competitiveness. 

But still, people who knew me back then would've been shocked to know I was anything but happy. 

I was the pinnacle of success, at the top of my class, published in an Ivy league journal, and the best mock trial competitor in school.  I was popular amongst both students and faculty, and I could've dated any girl on campus.  I mentored dozens of law students on how to get published, how to win barrister events, and funny enough, how to make it through law school with their sanity.

But through all of this, I was miserable.

Now that I look back, I believe that several challenges caused my depression: 

Part of it was the pressures of law school. 

Part of it was financial stress. 

Part of it was my brutal fight with God over homosexuality.

My break up with Rick, the game warden, certainly didn't help. 

But I think that the biggest influence was that, after Rick and I went our separate ways, I tried to go back to women. 

I had visions of a white picket fence, children, a dog, and a two-story house in suburbia, and I decided I'd try one last time to "go straight."  After all, I thought, my folks would be fantastic grandparents, and they're just dying for some grandkids and a daughter-in-law. 

It was during that period that my depression was the worst. 

For the most part, the days were good.  As long as I was laughing with friends or swamped with work, I didn't have time to dwell on my emptiness inside. 

But the nights always got me.  It was as if a shadow fell over me whenever the sun went down. 

I can't begin to count all of the sad nights I went to bed wanting to ball my eyes out.  I felt such an emptiness, like a void deep within me that desperately needed to be filled.   

And I had no clue why. 

Suicide even danced through my mind while I laid there between the sheets staring up at my dark bedroom ceiling.  I never actually made any concrete plans to off myself, but I pondered over and over again how easy it'd be and how many problems it'd solve.  I owned guns, and knew it'd only take a matter of minutes.

I never actually drew up solid plans to kill myself. 

I think it was the thought of my parents, and how devastated they'd be, that kept me from taking that next step.  After all, suicide is such a self-centered act.  My family is very close, and I knew that my folks would never fully recover from losing their only son.   

For two years, I tried to date women. 

I broke several hearts, hearts of beautiful, intelligent girls who were fooled into believing I could really love them. 

I got so sick of lying to everyone and sneaking out to the only gay bar in the small college town. 

At one point, I got tired of sex with women and really tired of making up excuses not to be intimate with my girlfriends. 

I felt immense guilt almost every day for the last year of law school, and I was restless, throwing myself into studying, work, and writing to avoid my depression and my illicit life.   

Finally, when I couldn't make "being straight" work out with a gorgeous, blond neurosurgeon who'd been a college cheerleader, I knew that my days of hunting for women were finished. 

She was amazing, one of a kind, and quite possibly the sweetest person I've ever met. 

I felt terrible for leading her on for so long. 

But something good came out of that last relationship.  Starting on the day that we broke it off in March of 2006, I've remained true to my sexuality and true to my attraction to men. 

Sure, I'm not out to everyone in the world yet, but I'm at least completely out to myself. 

The day that I finally accepted that I could only ever love another man, a great weight lifted off my shoulders.

I can't remember feeling truly depressed since that point in my life. 

Of course there're still days when I'm down, just like anyone else, but I've never once laid in bed pondering the pros and cons of suicide. 

Since graduating from law school and moving to the city to practice law, I've come out to several friends.

Each time I come out to someone, my life gets a little better, and I get a little happier. 

For me, depression took a hard toll.  But I was able to get through it by finally being true to myself and to some of the people close to me.

I look forward to the day that I'm fully out to all of my friends and family, and I hope that the soldier I chatted with can find peace in his struggle.

*A non-profit, ad-free site that gives advice about dealing with depression and provides a list of psychologists in the U.S. is:  http://www.psychologyinfo.com/depression/help.html

Gay With God

I grew up Methodist. 

I did all of the things good Christian straight boys should do.  I went to Sunday School a couple times a month, watched my mom sing in the choir, and even acted as an Arabian-looking Wise Man in the "March to the Manger" on Christmas Eve one year.  The church didn't have any dark skinned people, and for some reason wanted a black Wise Man, so one of the blue-haired ladies covered my skin in black makeup.  I still joke with friends that I turned gay because of that Christmas pageant.

After I flew the coop and left for college, I realized and admitted to myself that I was gay.  I knew that I couldn't fight the lustful urges much longer and sought some advice from the good book, which had always been part of my personal library.  Finding no clarification, I got frustrated.  I didn't understand why God, in all his wisdom and glory, would throw me this serious handicap.  If you listen to a strict constructionist - someone who follows the bible word-by-word - being homosexual is ok, but acting on it by "fornicating with men" is not.  Many people also believe that homosexuals can "pray away" our gayness and ultimately repress our desires. 

For me, at least, that wasn't possible. 

Sadly, I drifted away from my faith, the church, God, everything.  The saddest part about it was that I didn't even understand what the scriptures about homosexuality meant.  I never tried to analyze them.  Hell, I didn't even know what scriptures to look at!  I just assumed that the bible said that homosexuality was bad.  After all, that's what the ultra-conservatives were preaching.  Now that I look back, I guess it was just easier to write off God by accepting the prevailing conservative opinion instead of performing my own hard-core study. 

It wasn't until January of this year that I went back to church for the first time.  Funny, I drifted from God for seven years, and the very thing that drove me away from him brought me back.

His name was Nathan, and he was gorgeous.

Tall, blond, angular face, mid-thirties, with boyish, All-American, guy-next-door looks.  My friend Brian told me that he worked for a large hotel chain but liked to preach on the side. 

Indeed, even in the smoky haze of the bar, Nathan seemed to have a halo-like aura surrounding him.  People loved to touch him, as if he was some kind of celebrity or deity. 

We made eye contact, and he gave me a friendly, let's-talk-about-Jesus grin. 

I never once asked myself 'What would Jesus do?' 

Instead, I walked up to him and said hello.   

Coincidentally, Nathan went to Brian's church, which was Methodist.  Brian had been trying to get me there for weeks without success, but when Nathan told me that he was a devout attendee, I was sold. 

That Sunday, Brian and I rolled into the church's contemporary service--another first for me.  I'd always gone to traditional ones in the past. 

It was surprisingly enjoyable, way different from the stuffy ones I'd been subjected to as a kid.  It would've been more inspiring if Nathan hadn't miraculously appeared twenty minutes into the service.  He sat down right next to me, so close that our legs were touching. 

It was ridiculous.  I had an instant hard-on in church.      

Over the next couple weeks, Nathan and I tried to get together.  Unfortunately, our schedules never seemed to mesh.  I eventually ended up dating someone else, and Nathan and I went our separate ways.  But I stuck with the church. 

It's members are primarily white, but the contemporary pastor is a spunky, stylish black woman named Shante.  Shante is awesome, supportive of gay relationships, and incredibly inspiring.  In fact, a few weeks ago, she gave a sermon so moving that I left with tears in the corners of my eyes.  I prayed for the first time in years that night. 

Equally important, Shante inspired me to figure out my own answer to the "Gay with God" issue.  I spent hours upon end searching on Google. 

I've only come to three conclusions so far, but considering the rut I was in, I think it's a great start:

1.  The bible was generated from a compilation of numerous books written by numerous authors.  Each author had his own angle, point-of-view, and moral background.  Only a couple of the bible's authors mentioned that homosexuality was wrong.  Jesus never said anything about it.  I can't accept the opinion that gay relationships offend God when the bible's wording is so sparse on the topic.

2.  In my past, I've lied, stolen, cheated, fought, gossiped, and turned away people in need.  All of those felt like sins, and I'm confident they still would today.  Being in a gay relationship does not feel like a sin.  I think that God instills in us a set of morals.  Some people choose to ignore those morals, but everyone who isn't completely insane realizes what is right and what is wrong.  I simply don't feel like 'being gay' is wrong.

3.  The most important revelation:  God used a gay man to get me to a particular church, and in a few short weeks, I've totally changed my attitude on being "gay with God." 

Tomorrow is Easter, and I am looking forward to another outstanding service with Shante.

- - -

The best website I found to walk me through the bible's nuances is: http://www.jlarue.com/wtbs.html . 

The site is unbiased, well-written, and most importantly, well-researched.