Other Worlds

I really don’t know how else to say these things, so I’ll apologize up front if any of this comes across rather shocking or blunt, or even a bit “adult” compared to what I normally write about.

Here goes…

Back in August, I came across another blog while looking up porn. It was a gay themed blog focused on the Daddy/boy, or Dominant/submissive, types of gay relationships. I like that sort of thing—being submissive to other men. And I loved this particular blog. It wasn’t just a collection of images, it was interactive and welcoming. I liked the owner and many of the others who commented on there. And they liked me, too. I loved writing things to them that was sexy or erotic, knowing I could turn them on, loving their responses back to me. I felt like I belonged. For the first time in several years, I felt like I belonged. I felt special and wanted, and that made this little online world I’d stumbled into so special to me. It was, if nothing else, a place for me to escape into. I was allowed to communicate with others who feel like me and with those who like guys like me. That’s not something I’ve been allowed much experience with before. But I loved it. I felt very much at home in that world.

A couple of weeks ago, that blog was unexpectedly ended by the owner. One day he’s posting, commenting, and others are commenting, and the next day, nothing, the blog is gone, no heads up or nothing. I found out he had wanted to end the blog and just didn’t want to have to say any goodbyes to anyone. I’ll be honest, I’ve bawled my eyes out over this. I can understand him wanting to end his blog, but I wish so much he had given me some time to get used to the idea. I wasn’t ready to give up this world. I wasn’t ready for it to come crashing down, to be ripped away from me forever. Even if it was sinful, I don’t care, because I loved it. I loved being a part of it. I loved the people and I loved how right it felt for me to be a part of it. I know I’ll miss it forever.

Something this experience did was help me to realize what I want in a relationship. I like men who are stronger and more dominant than me. I like being submissive and loving and affectionate. I like someone else taking the lead. I like other men wanting me.

I know I am completely unsuitable for being with a woman. Eve knew this. I think that’s why she really broke up with me; she knew I could never really last or be happy in that relationship. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her. It’s not that I didn’t love her even. Or that she didn’t love me. It’s that I couldn’t be what I needed to be for that sort of relationship to work. I wasn’t right for it at all.

I am right for being with another man though.

About a month and a half ago, I was contacted by a man through an online dating site I’d signed up on sometime back. I decided to respond back to him, and the night I did, we literally stayed up for hours talking to each other. It was on a Friday night, and I remember it was around five or six the next morning before we quit talking. To say we hit it off fast would be an understatement.

He’s two years younger than me, loves cars, playing video games, and watching movies. He has a little girl he takes care of all the time and absolutely adores. He is sweet beyond belief, calls me baby sometimes in such an affectionate way that just drives me crazy for him, and he is somewhat bashful at times, which I find incredibly cute. He’s a great guy, and I know I’m in love with him.

It’s been three weeks now since I was last able to talk with him though. There are reasons for this which I understand, but also some reasons which I don’t understand. I honestly don’t know if I still have a boyfriend or not. My hope is that we will eventually be able to be together again, but there are some nagging doubts that I have about this.

This relationship, too, has been something I wasn’t ready to give up. Unlike the blog, I don’t know where the relationship I was in stands though.

I feel so tired of caring. Every time I care about anyone or anything it just gets taken away from me. It seems to be a pattern I can’t escape. And I don’t know how to deal with such losses in very positive ways.

I’m so tired of being lured into a false sense of comfort, believing everything is great and grand, just for something, anything to always inevitably bring my world crashing down upon me.

I’ve felt really stressed the last few weeks. Not even the most recent holiday has helped.

This Thanksgiving didn’t… I don’t even know if I could say it was Thanksgiving. I had a meal with half of my family, but it seemed more like a reunion with distant relatives than anything else. And I didn’t even get to be around anyone from my mom’s side of the family.

When I was younger, it was, in all honesty, the time spent with those on my mom’s side that I enjoyed most about the holidays. With my grandma passing, and my aunt constantly sick these days, all that’s gone now. Mom doesn’t much want us doing anything for her side anyway (just her way of trying to avoid stress).

God, I miss my grandma so much I can’t stand it. Thursday night, my brother and I went and got pizza for us and my nephews. We didn’t have leftovers, we didn’t have games and fun with family… it didn’t even feel like a Thanksgiving. It just felt like some weird, awkward day that didn’t make sense to me at all.

I feel like I always lose everything. If it’s good, it never sticks. I feel so frustrated right now. I know what I’d like my life to be like, but I can’t have it. I’m so tired of feeling bad all the time. I’ll feel good and things will be going right and then, WHAM, I’m knocked right on my ass. I just wish for some period of time I could actually just be happy.

In another world, I was a confident, happy, sexual being who was well-liked and wanted by others. In another world, I was loved and wanted by someone who I loved and wanted. In another world, I was happy with family and innocence. In another world, I felt like I belonged and was wanted in church. In another world, my dreams are still alive. In another world, I still have all the things I’ve lost. In another world, I wouldn’t feel bad about being me. In another world, I wouldn’t have to feel as though I was living a lie with every breath of the day.

I don’t know how you all will look at me now for admitting these things. Am I lost? Am I sinful? Do I even still care? I honestly wonder about that at times. But then I doubt I’d feel so bad if I didn’t care...

I feel like nothing makes sense anymore. I’m tired, scared, in poor health. Nothing seems right anymore. And anytime I think things are improving or starting to look up, I just get my legs kicked out from under me and the wind sucker punched right out of me.

I feel like there’s no way for me to be who I want to be. And even if I got that, I don’t know if it’d be right.

Victorian

Something I’ve noticed about myself (despite whatever the content of this blog might suggest) is that I really get embarrassed or shy about talking about matters of sex, the physical body, and/or functions of the body. The way I was brought up, these were just things that were not discussed; and if anything relating to them was brought up, it was always quickly dealt with, hushed up, and/or often neglected altogether.

The furthest my parents ever actually came to talking to me about sex was my mom getting a pamphlet for me to read when I had to go for a physical exam before starting middle school. It did little to inform me about the birds and the bees, but it did actually have a couple of pictures and one or two diagrams in it that I found arousing at the time, which actually confused me even more than I already felt. Outside of that, I really don’t recall my parents ever talking to me about sex.

Actually, that’s not true… they did, but it was in the form of getting after me for things I didn’t know I shouldn’t be doing (at least it was things they didn’t want me doing, but in hindsight I really don’t see what the big deal was on most of it).

Looking back, they made it pretty darn clear that I was never, ever supposed to know anything about sex, or experience anything of a sexual nature. They brought me up in a very Victorian era sort of way. And many of their ideas stuck with me. I haven’t always approved of talk about sex. I haven’t wanted to talk about sex, or the body. It’s often embarrassed the heck out of me to hear others talk about such things, particularly in direct conversation with me. Now, in my late twenties, however, much of that embarrassment has waned. But I know I still get uncomfortable or shy about it at times.

If I’ve learned anything over the course of the last ten years or so, though, it’s that people make better decisions when they are both openly honest and well-educated about things. When people don’t ask questions, don’t talk about issues they’re facing, aren’t educated, that is when they make mistakes. For that reason, I have been so much more vocal about most things sexual in the last few years, beginning really around the time I started this blog. And I’ve tried to be more willing to engage in conversations with others needing to talk or ask questions. It’s the only way people can learn. When we keep quiet, we learn on our own (often wrongly), in hiding, sometimes developing complexes and feelings of shame for things that we shouldn’t, making bad decisions, and none of which is any good. That Victorian era mindset just doesn’t work. It prevents true knowledge. And there should be nothing wrong with knowing about things and experiencing things which are only normal. I mean, God created sex to be a very beautiful, special thing! Why then should we treat it as if it’s some hideous, scandalous, blasphemy?

With that in mind, I try not to be bothered about hearing or talking about sex, or the human body. I try to keep in mind that better decisions can be made with knowledge, than with ignorance. This is why I’ve written about much of the issues I’ve written about on this blog—why I’ve disclosed things about my own life and been willing to discuss these things and those experiences of others with others. It is also why I favor sex education in schools. Too many parents simply won’t teach their children about these things. And too many people learn only from their friends and their own deductions, often, as I’ve already stated, wrongly.

I know a lot of people are strongly opposed to any teachings about gay sex (or any sex for that matter) in schools, but I can sure bet that for the gay youth, knowing what is going on with their bodies and what are and are not safe sex practices are very important, and can even be lifesaving. AIDS is still a very big deal in this country, and it is still young gay men who tend to get AIDS above any other group. Proper sex education in schools could really help curb this (I will not get into a debate with anyone about Christianity being the true answer to this problem—I know Christian values are best, and I would always advocate them, but I say what I have in acknowledgment that not all people are going to be converted, or adhere to traditional Christian teachings, and that for those who won’t, this would be particularly important and useful teachings for them).

Sex education in schools can do far more than teach safe sex practices though. It can teach our young people about their bodies, to learn when something may be wrong, to learn ways of preventing pregnancy, to learn that they aren’t freakish for one thought or another, and so on. It is valuable education.

I honestly see a lot of progress taking place in our country. I see people being much more willing to talk about these sorts of issues than they used to be. It is a good thing, in my mind, and something which I hope will continue. But we can’t be turned off about talking about these things. We have to find our voices and be willing to speak and listen in order to make any real differences. Otherwise, we accept the ignorance and uninformed decisions that have so often plagued us. Having been a victim of that in the past, in many different ways, it is something I would like to prevent for others. I can try harder to get over my shyness to do that.

Friendly Advice

In the past, I have offered advice to other men on how to avoid acting out on their sexual desires. One bit of advice I have given is that it would be better to masturbate than to run out in some act of desperation to be with another guy. My thinking behind this was that if a person goes looking for sex, they not only sin themselves, but drag someone else into a sinful situation as well. If a person is going to sin, it would be far better for him or her to sin in such a way that only affects themselves, rather than others, too. That was my thinking behind such advice.

I’ve had some conflicting emotions about giving that advice, however, and often wonder if it really is the best advice to be giving. I know there are times when a person trying to abstain from all things sexually sinful can be tempted to a point that is near maddening. If you believe it is wrong to have sex outside of marriage, and even to engage in other self pleasing sexual activities, that can be a very real struggle. It means no sexual pleasure whatsoever. Not only does the mind sometimes work against you in this pursuit, but the physical body can as well. To be more simplistic about it, I’ll just say that it is a tough act—trying to completely abstain from all sexual activities.  A great many priests and nuns have proven it can be done, but knowing that still can be no great comfort to fighting those sorts of temptations when you feel like your mind is being ripped apart on the inside by them. And a person can experience a great deal of temptation sometimes, especially at moments of weakness, such as when feeling lonely, sad, tired, or angry. That’s when a person will usually give in, if they’re going to, and when they fall, they can fall hard.

Imagine a man on a diet, tempted for several weeks to eat something sweet that he knows he shouldn’t. He has a really hard day, comes home really tired, and there on the kitchen table is a piece of chocolate cake his wife made staring him in the face. He tells himself not to eat it, to look away, to leave the room. He leaves. But later as he comes back into the kitchen to get a glass of water, he sees it sitting there again, and deep inside he knows that every time he ever ate a piece of chocolate cake like that before, it always made him feel good somehow. He walks up to the table and has a seat. He drinks his water, telling himself over and over to look away from the cake and ignore it. He finishes the water, and then stands up to put the glass in the sink. But when he does, he notices the drawer of silverware next to the sink. He tells himself that maybe a small bite of the cake would be okay. So, he gets a fork and heads toward the cake, telling himself the whole time not to do it, to stop. He sits back down at the table. He weighs the pros and cons, but he sees that piece of cake sitting there on the table, looking better than anything he’s eaten in weeks now. The sweat begins forming on his forehead, his mind racing, his heart beating loudly, and before he even knows what’s happened, he’s eaten the entire piece of cake, in five seconds flat, and began ransacking the rest of the kitchen looking for anything else sweet to eat as well. Afterwards, he calms down, looks around the room, and realizes what he’s done. Then he feels regret, knowing he did something wrong.

It can be the same for someone trying not to engage in sexual activities when they are so tempted to give into them. And so, when a person feels that they are at that point of no return, I have believed it would be better for them, if they are going to sin, or honestly believe they will not be able to resist for much longer, to build it up in themselves not to bring others into their sin.

The reason I am conflicted about giving such advice though, is because all sin is equally damning. None of it is good for the soul, and all of it separates us from God. So, is it really any better for a person to engage in a sin that only affects him or herself, verses engaging in a sin that affects others as well? There are, of course different consequences for every sin. One sin may cause very few consequences, while another may cause the world to come crashing down on you. So, the weight of certain sins can at the very least feel heavier on you than that of other sorts. But is there really a difference? It’s a bit like saying if a man is going to have sex with someone it’s less sinful if he uses a condom. It’s still sex, with or without a condom. If a person masturbates (believing masturbation is a sin) rather than having sex, is he or she still not engaging in sexual sin? The obvious answer is yes. So, with that in mind, aren’t we really just talking about consequences? It’s not a matter of whether or not one sin is better for you, or less worse for you, than another, but whether or not one sin will be less or more consequential to you than another?

That’s a very different way to look at sin, I think. But still, if a person is going to sin, shouldn’t they try to sin in a way that is indeed less consequential? Is this still good advice to give people?

Of Self, Sex, Love, and Relationships

I ask the question, “Why?” I keep thinking about why I would be attracted to other men, why I would always have had this inner wish when I was little to have been born a girl, why I would have so much difficulty throughout all of life relating to other men, why God would so strongly disapprove of me being in a romantic relationship, and I can’t help but wonder for what purpose it is all for. Why, of all things to struggle with in life, do I have to struggle with gender identity/sexual orientation issues? Why not something a little more common that doesn’t influence the very nature of my being? Why not just pornography, masturbation, greed, gluttony, anger, alcoholism, lust, jealousy, etc.? Not that any of these things are any less difficult to fight or deal with, but none of them bring into question the physical aspect of who you are. No, I have to struggle with the very nature of my identity as a human being. I don’t feel nor think of myself in very masculine terms most of the time, even though I do recognize many of the masculine traits I do have. A lot of the time, I don’t relate fully to being male or female, but something in between. And that in between reality pulls me in both directions so much of the time. I know I am male, and I like that I’m male, but my mind and perception of self is so female it isn’t even funny. This impacts the way I relate to others in virtually every possible manner, including sexuality.

When I think of sex, it is not at all from the typical heterosexual male’s point of view. On the contrary, my first instincts are very much alike to the typical heterosexual female’s point of view (me being in one of maybe three sexual positions with a man on top of me). And, also, like the typical heterosexual woman, even though there is certainly physical pleasure to be enjoyed during sex, it is the closeness to the person making love to me that I desire the most (this isn’t to suggest that no straight men feel the same in this regard—remember I’m talking about instincts and I’m basing this off of past conversations with straight men and women). That’s what I think of whenever sex comes to mind. Those are my first instincts, and that’s pretty much always been the case (spare for a select few occasions).

I’ve had sex with three different people in my life. I know that may come as a shock to some of you, but it is the truth I have to live with, and I do feel regret for. When I was twelve years old, I became sexually active with a boy that was a couple of years younger than me. For the most part, we were only experimenting with each other. We were learning about sex together. I know this had little to do with attraction, but I was still drawn to do those things with him. It just seemed natural to want to, and he was willing.

Sometime during this two year course, I also had sex with a girl. That was a onetime event, which I have no illusions about—I wanted to prove to myself I could be with a girl.

Neither of these people do I wish I’d have had sex with, and I know they feel the same. I wasn’t in love with either of them, nor did either of them love me. But I look back at that time in my life and see how incredibly stupid I was (and how stupid they were too). The things I did during those two years filled me full of regret, sorrow, and self-hate. I layered those feelings on top of me for years. I knew it was just about sex, wanting that physical pleasure.

I allowed those feelings to pretty much diminish any thought of ever actually being with anyone in any sort of relationship. I just thought there wasn’t much real possibility of that happening. But, in spring of 2010, I began (reluctantly) dating a woman that I went to school with. I wrote about that relationship many posts back, calling her Eve.

I loved Eve. There was a lot about her to love. But that relationship fell apart. This happened for many reasons. The biggest reason was just that we didn’t have any of the same long term goals for our lives. Even though we knew this, we still wanted desperately to be together in the short term.

Eve was the third person I became sexually active with. I could give a lot of excuses for why this came about, but I won’t. This was just another reason our relationship fell apart though. After awhile she thought she’d become pregnant. Like most people hearing this sort of news, we wizened up more than a lot. I know both of us really looked much more seriously at the relationship we had. It turned out that she wasn’t pregnant, but we both realized we’d made some very wrong decisions. We both knew that neither of us was willing to give up some of the dreams we’d carried for ourselves for so long. And if that was true, then we never should have allowed ourselves to go so far with each other. She accepted, before I did, that if we weren’t going to be with each other in the future, then we shouldn’t continue being with each other at all. And that’s why she broke up with me.

I was devastated when that relationship ended. I know I really did love Eve. And I know she really did love me, too. We’re still on good terms with each other. But in hindsight, I know the love we had was, at least in part, conditional. I also know there were problems with our relationship extending beyond those I’ve already mentioned. I was never really able to feel comfortable being physically intimate with her, in any regard, or to ever lead in that relationship, even when she wanted me to. I couldn’t be what is required for that sort of relationship—physically or relationally. I felt so awkward so much of the time, as though I was a straight woman trying to be with another woman. It just seemed to completely unnatural for me to be with her. This inner sense kept coming up while we were together. I often think Eve recognized this, too, though she never said anything. She did know I was attracted to other men, and was always very understanding about that. But I do think it impacted our relationship. And I never thought it was very fair to her.

I learned several things from that relationship though. One was that sex can ruin something beautiful. Another is that just because you’re in love doesn’t mean you have to have sex. And a third is that I will never again have sex with anyone unless it’s the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with—and I’ll give that more than a few months to figure out—because the pain of doing otherwise is just too great.

I also learned a great deal about myself though. I was able to see how a relationship with a woman could be possible. It could work, and I won’t rule out the possibility of that ever happening again. But I do see how unfit and unmatched I was for that sort of relationship. I know I was always on the wrong end of it. My best match is to be with another man, romantically and relationally speaking—that’s what works. Being with Eve, I saw that more clearly. I also saw who I really want to be with.

I’ve suppressed my love for a male friend for a very long time now. I loved him even while I was with Eve. And, unlike with Eve, I know the love I have for him is unconditional. We’ve had many ups and downs, but our friendship has survived (longer than any other I could mention). I think he is handsome, though I doubt few others would think of him beyond average. He is smart and witty. He loves to write and talk about religion and politics. I love that he challenges me in my thinking, that he is always patient with me, always willing to listen, always willing to be there for me. And I love his faith in God. We have so many things we share in common. And I know if I could choose one person to spend the rest of my life with, he would be my pick. I would choose to give everything of myself to him, without regret, and I don’t doubt that for even a second.

It hurts knowing how much I love him, knowing I’ve found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, knowing that he could share those same feelings with me, but knowing that that can never happen. I’ve struggled so much trying to figure out how to respond to this love. It is not just the love for a friend. It is beyond any measure a romantic love as well. It’s both, really. I want to be able to look him in the eyes and tell him I love him, and for him to know that beyond God, that holds most for him. I want to be able to come home to him every day. I want to embrace him. I want to hold hands with him. I want to hear his voice and feel his presence every day. I want to take care of him when he’s sick. I want to grow old with him. I want to feel my soul connected with his. I want to do all those things a married couple can do together. And, yes, to even make love with him. And yet, I resist.

And I ask, “Why?” Why do I struggle with this thing? Why is it that I’ve come so far to learn so much what true love is all about, and to truly love someone in this manner, just to be told that it’s an unholy love that God would never approve of? Why is it so wrong for me to want to share myself with someone that I love so much? Why and for what purpose would God ever allow me to go through such a thing? Love is one of the greatest things in this world, something that Christ himself advocated more than anything else, and yet I’m denied the love of another?

I know I can be loved, but there are different kinds of love. I want to be able to love someone where I can give everything of myself—my body, my mind, my soul, my time, everything, and to know that it is all out of love. You can’t really love a friend like that. And there’s the difference. My struggle isn’t one of wanting sex. It is one of wanting to experience that sort of love and being told no, and that answer making no sense at all anymore.

I want to do what’s right, but I know I want to do it because it makes sense. Not just because it’s what I’ve always been told, which is based so much on what others have always thought, who had no real idea what sort of thing they were talking about. I don’t want to accept a teaching that I honestly do think may have come about only out of prejudice and misunderstanding.

I look at the story of Adam. God saw it wasn’t good for man to be alone, and yet He’s asking me to be alone? I look at Jesus’ commandment to love, and yet I’m told the greatest of loves isn’t okay for me? It just doesn’t make sense.

And so I struggle on trying to make sense out of it all.

Why Does It Matter?

I keep thinking about what it means to say I’m gay. I’ve usually meant that in terms of what sexual attractions I have for other people; I find men attractive, and women sort of neutral. It’s also meant how I come to think about myself as well though. But I wonder if I have perceived being gay as meaning what sort of sex I’d like to have, rather than what sort of relationships I would like to have. I keep thinking about the relationship I had with Eve. It wasn’t built on sex, or for that matter sexual desire. It was built on friendship, care, love, and emotion.

I keep having trouble trying to figure myself out. I feel as though so much of the time I’ve only been thinking about wanting a sexual relationship, or something lustful, or someone to help cure periods of loneliness, rather than the sort of relationship, if any, I should have been looking for.

Maybe too many people are just looking for sex. I wonder if maybe that’s what I was really looking for or wanting all those years rather than a serious, healthy relationship. What I had with Eve wasn’t what I expected it to be. It wasn’t what I’d been looking for in a relationship. It was far better than anything I’d been looking for, and it was far different than what I’d wanted.

I guess my point is that maybe I’d been focusing too much on wanting a particular kind of sex when I should have been focusing on wanting a healthy relationship with someone, built on friendship, trust, and love. And I wonder if that’s the case with others; particularly among gay identified men. Maybe we are too focused on sex itself, rather than on what really makes sex something meaningful and special.

And maybe we identify who we are too much upon trivial differences. I know I’m not as masculine as a lot of men. But how is that something that should make me feel different from other men? Not all men, even straight men, are masculine. A lot of men aren’t masculine. And, really, since when should one’s level of masculinity define who they are as a person? Why has that mattered to me?

If being with Eve made me realize anything, it’s that all those stupid labels people put upon themselves don’t really matter at all. Being gay or straight, bisexual, tall, short, fat, skinny, ugly, beautiful, black, white, purple, green, or yellow, none it really matters. You just are who you are. It’s just that causing those labels to box yourself into a corner in life isn’t any good; you become limited so much.

I’m not sure being gay really means that much to me anymore. Not that it was ever anything to feel prideful about or anything like that, but just that it was a big part of how I saw myself. Maybe some of those old mindsets of mine have become broken somewhat. I’m not saying I’m no longer gay, or that I’m no longer attracted to men. I’m just saying that the fact that I am doesn’t seem to matter so much to me anymore. As though being gay is no better or worse than any other part of me. It’s just another thing, and not something that should limit me any more than the color of my hair or the shape of my eyes. It doesn’t really matter.

Still Not Convinced

I want to thank everyone who commented on my last post. You gave me much to think about. But I'm still not convinced.

Several of you brought up the culture issue when interpreting scripture. I think you have a very valid point. But I think you fail to relate culture to all of scripture. You say that certain passages should be taken in light of the culture and society in which they were written, but you seem to fail to apply this to other passages. When the writers of the New Testament books tell us to abstain from sexual immorality, I have to question what they considered to be sexually immoral behaviors. At the time, I think they would have certainly defined sexual immorality by what is written of it in the Old Testament books. Among those things considered sexually immoral would have been gay sex, and very few people dispute the prohibition against homosexual sex as outlined in Levitical law. In applying culture, I think it can easily be reasoned that what was considered to be sexually immoral during the first century AD was based on the teachings of the Pentateuch. So when the apostle Paul or the members of the council of Jerusalem say we should abstain from all sexual immorality, I'd imagine they were talking about that which they knew as being sexually immoral at the time. Based on that, I do believe gay sex was considered a sexually immoral act to them, and that that would have been included in the list of things to abstain from.

Now is the question of love. Is it possible that love would excuse a homosexual relationship? I'll admit, I wonder seriously if it might. However, given that we are told to abstain from all sexual immorality, and given that the apostles more than likely viewed gay sex of any kind as a sexually immoral act, I find it hard to believe that engaging in gay sex, even out of love, would be okay. For if gay sex is considered sin, how are we loving God by giving into it? And even though we are told to love each other, and that that is to be our greatest commandment, I still don't think that would excuse this. For one, sex does not equal love in itself. It is an expression of love. And in the same light, love does not equal sex. Love is about so much more than sex alone. Love is about commitment, patience, kindness, and selflessness. It isn't prideful or boastful or uncaring. I have to say I find it puzzling how some people can say that two men can't love each other, even intimately, without ever having sex with each other. I'll refer to the story of David and Jonathan, which I'll say more about in a follow up post. Is it not possible that these two men actually just deeply loved each other in a Godly manner without ever having sex? I think it is. But I'll refer back to the culture issue with their story. Reading it, and applying it to today's culture and our society, yes, it seems very much so to suggest that David and Jonathan were perhaps lovers. But to see their story in light of the culture in which they lived, would it have been so shocking for two men to be affectionate toward each other and to show signs of love for each other? Such as when scripture says they kissed and wept together? Have we not seen heterosexual Frenchmen in our own time kiss each other as a sign of greeting or recognition? And aren't we told that Judas betrayed Jesus with a “kiss”? Have none of us cried along with our fellow brothers in times of distress or mourning, or had parents not approve of certain friendships?

David, from Resolving Realities, brought up one particular issue, which I hope I can give him an answer to, and that is “why does God not like homosexual sex?” I think if one seriously looks at how God created us, one can find that answer. He created us men and women. Our bodies are designed in very specific ways, and I'd imagine He meant for our bodies to only be used in specific ways. God naturally created men and women in a manner so that they could procreate. It's His design—that's all I can really say (and not to imply that procreation is the only reason for which to have sex). And so, I can see why He might find it offensive when we misuse what He created (our bodies). Think of it this way. A painter paints a beautiful landscape of people walking in a field during springtime. Now, lets say He gave life to his painting, and the men and women in that painting decided to change their colors, their clothing, their setting, until the point where the painters original intent for the painting is completely changed. No longer is it a painting of people walking in a field during springtime, but it's a painting of creatures starving to death during a cold winter. I think the same could be applied here with homosexuality. If it were not okay with God, I'd imagine it's because He didn't create us and our bodies with that in mind. And so to give into that sort of thing, we misuse our bodies—we use them in an unnatural way. That's the best answer I can think of for that question. I hope it makes sense. I'll still come back to the question though, might God be okay with homosexual sex, even though that might not have been His original intent for us, if love is involved? I'm still not sure. I will just add though, for whatever reason God may have against homosexual relations, if that is indeed how He feels, I know that His understanding is so much greater than my own. So, if God tells me that homosexual sex is wrong, I'll have to trust that it's because He knows better than I do. What I think shouldn't matter so much as what He thinks.

Now, I've heard some people mention that the Old Testament teachings no longer apply to us because of Christ. I disagree with that, in part. I think the two go hand in hand. Without the Old Testament, you don't have Christ. And even Christ affirmed many Old Testament teachings. So, I do believe the Old Testament is indeed still valid to us in many ways today. Now, of course, because of Christ, certain teachings of the Old Testament, in fact, no longer apply. I could get into describing traditional, cultural, and moral laws and such, but I'd rather not go down that road again. For those who know what I'm talking about, I would just like to ask if it's possible that the prohibition on homosexual sex could actually have fallen among the cultural laws, rather than the moral laws? If so, would we still be bound by it?

Some would suggest that the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah was not due to homosexuality, and I'll admit, it may not have been. But I do think the men who approached Lot's house did indeed want sex from his houseguests, and probably by force. The reason I believe this is because it doesn't make sense for Lot to have offered them his daughters as a means to appease them. Why would he make such an offer if the men weren't after sex of some manner? What I get out of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah is that those two cities had become so sinful that God had to destroy them less their wickedness carry over into other places. I think there quite possibly was rampant homosexuality in those cities, but likewise there was probably rampant murder, theft, adultery, and any other sin imaginable. What I mean is I don't think the two cities were singularly destroyed because of homosexuality (if that was a cause), but because sin of all types had become so prevalent. You might be able to compare the two cities to two literal hells on earth, and God destroyed them because nothing good could any longer come from them.

What about Paul's made up word “arsenokoite”? This term is generally interpreted as meaning homosexual. Some would argue that what Paul was actually talking about though was either male prostitution, some form of idolatry, or pedastry. However, in 1 Corinthians 6:9, Paul already makes mention of those who engage in male prostitution and idolatry. If that were what he meant, he'd have been repeating himself needlessly. So, I do not think he was talking about either of those two things. I do think an argument could be made that Paul was talking about pedophilia (men having sex with young boys) though. However, I've read before that when Paul created the word arsenokoite, what he did was combine two words used from the passages in the book of Leviticus referring to the prohibition on homosexual sex. Joe Dallas makes this claim in both of his books, “Desires In Conflict” and “The Gay Theology?”. The two words used were man and bed, and used in a sexual context. The idea is that Paul was referring back to the prohibition against homosexual sex. If that indeed was what he was referring to, I will admit he did so rather poorly. He could have certainly been a little clearer as to his meaning.

Lastly, I know that not all sins are fought as hard against as homosexual sins a great deal of the time. I recognize this. However, that does not mean that those other sins aren't any less bad. Just because a great number of Christians aren't raising their voices more often against divorce, pornography, premarital sex (of any kind), lying, cheating, or even smoking, doesn't mean those things are any less sinful. Nor does it mean that just because those things aren't as heavily fought against should homosexual sins be less fought against. All sins should be fought against, and in equal measure.

So, that's my thoughts. I'm still not convinced. If any of you have anything you'd like to bring up or add, or try to correct me on, I'd be glad to hear you out. Comments are welcome, but the same applies as before—I refuse to get into any arguments with anyone.

God bless.

Reflections On My Life: Part One

The other day I was reading through some of the posts on my blog and it occurred to me that I'd never really written about any of my gay experiences. Well, other than some of the feelings I've had related to them. I think I can honestly say that I've been somewhat avoiding this subject. It is not an easy thing for me to talk about being gay. There are so many things about my life that I've tried so very hard to pretend wasn't real, or to forget about or block out, to lock deep down within myself to never let resurface. But there are a lot of things that I've wanted to write about and to open up on. So, I began thinking about where to start. Then it hit me, “How do I begin to tell the story of my life?” I had no idea, and I definitely didn't realize how difficult this would be. There are so many things I could tell, but it'd take me a lifetime just to write about it all. I tried to start from several different points, and then I just decided to start with what I know...

I am gay. Don't ask me to explain this, because I don't know for sure why that is. Not to say that I don't have some strong ideas about that, but I can't say beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's because of genetics or the environment in which I've lived, or a combination of the two. I've always tended to believe that certain environmental factors played the biggest part in this, but I'm not closed-minded or stubborn enough to rule out the possibility of genetics having played some role. Whatever the cause, however, I am, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a homosexual.

The first time I ever remember hearing the word gay was when I was in the fifth grade. All I was told it meant was that that's what you were if you liked other guys. I had no clue what that really meant though. I had already began noticing other guys. I was drawn to them for some reason, which I couldn't understand. I would catch myself looking at them and having odd thoughts and feelings, which made no sense at all to me at the time. It was strange, because I knew that as a guy, I was supposed to find girls attractive and I was supposed to want a girlfriend, but that just wasn't at all what I felt for girls, or what I wanted from them. Girls were never anything more than just friends, if even that. I honestly had no desire at all to be with any of them. I only wanted to be around other guys. I was desperate for their friendship and acceptance. I just wanted to feel as though I was “one of them”.

I always had trouble making friends while in school. Girls were most often easy to befriend. But with the guys, I always seemed to be this outcast or loner. I never felt as though I was good enough or fit in. I didn't enjoy sports, and was never any good at any of them when I tried to participate. I'm not a car junkie or a music fanatic either. So, that practically ruled out three-fourths of the guys I could have had anything in common with.

I remember being made fun of. I suppose that's why I deplore that act so much today. I absolutely hate seeing another person being made fun of or belittled. But I remember so many innuendoes and jokes at my expense. I remember being called gay for the first time when I was in the sixth grade. I had already began to wonder about myself by that age, always in denial about it though. Not that I thought I was gay, because I didn't fully understand what that meant, but that I knew there was something different about me. But I remember one day when a local doctor was invited to our school to teach us boys about the birds and the bees. Somewhere in the question and answer session that followed, it was asked, “How many guys are gay?” The response was, “About one in every hundred. Chances are, one in this room of about forty might be gay.” The room became really quiet and I remember feeling myself turn beet red. I wasn't even sure why. Afterwards, however, when we returned to our regular classes, one of the other guys, someone whom I'd mistaken as a friend at the time, was telling one of the girls in our class about what all had been discussed. When he mentioned the part about the gay question, he turned to me and said to the girl, “Yeah, we all thought he (the doctor) was talking about Brandon”. I made some fire back remark and left it at that, but I felt crushed. I knew that being gay wasn't something a person wanted to be. I knew that much. Being gay meant that you were different. But I realized at that moment that that's what other people were beginning to think of me, or at least might be thinking about me. And whatever gay really meant, it must not be anything good, or else it wouldn't always be used in a negative context. I often wondered why anyone would think that about me, but looking back, I suppose I probably did give myself away fairly well in a few regards. But at the time, I was always puzzled about it.

In the later part of that same year, I began having sexual encounters with another guy. He was a couple of years younger than me, and it was mostly innocent type of stuff at the start. Over the next two years though, things got a little more serious. We eventually ended up having sex with each other at least three times that I can remember.

When I entered high school, I broke off that relationship. One reason for this was out of necessity. I didn't want anyone knowing I was gay, and after a few close calls, I decided it would be better to play it safe and lay low. I decided it would be safer and more convenient to pretend to be straight. Secondly, I'd began to realize more fully what being gay was, and I just didn't want that for myself. I also didn't want to give in to something considered sinful by God. Thirdly, I had to listen to my conscience. As right as being with another guy felt, there was something about it that never felt right. It was just one of those gut feelings, which told me I wasn't doing something I should be. Perhaps it was God laying heavy upon my heart? Whatever the reasons, I did decide to break off that relationship, and looking back I'd say that it was the right thing for me to do.

That same year, as a freshman, a few older students began thinking I was gay, and decided to make my life a living hell because of that. They began routinely picking on me, calling me “queer”, “faggot”, “homo”, or any other derogatory word used to describe a homosexual. And I was routinely reminded by the persons branding me with these labels that they hated me and everyone else like me. I was put in my place rather well by a few of them, and on more than one occasion. Even still, I tried my best to pretend that I wasn't gay. I was in denial. Or, actually, I was confused. I actually did have a girlfriend during eighth grade—the same time I was secretly having sex with that other guy—and I liked her a lot. I was never attracted to her, but I liked her. Maybe I was even in love with her. Maybe that's why it hurt as much as it did when she broke up with me. And there were other girls I considered dating as well. Usually they were friends who'd fall for me, and who I'd regrettably toy around with just long enough so that other people would think I liked them and was therefore NOT a homosexual. I wanted to prove myself to be just like everybody else. After all, who really wants to be gay? I never did. But after that freshmen year, things did improve. In short, I left high school much better than I entered it.

My first year in college, I decided to face facts for the first time and admitted to myself that I was a homosexual. I was attracted to other guys, I'd had sex with one of them, I'd already been looking up gay pornography for about a year or so, and I just wasn't interested in girls whatsoever. Unfortunately, I allowed that realization to blanket my life under a dark layer of clouds. I became very depressed. I was miserable with myself. I hated that I was gay, and I blamed God—at least partially—for that, and I just felt so alone. I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't talk about what I was going through. No one seemed safe to go to for support. I felt trapped and isolated, and I hated who I was and all those past things I'd done. I felt so much regret. I hated the fact that I'd had sex. I actually tried to, and was successful for awhile, at blocking those experiences nearly completely from my mind. I knew it happened, but I tried to pretend as though it hadn't. I felt so torn and confused.

I eventually began contemplating suicide. I had it all figured out. I'd drive myself right off a cliff and wreck and die and all my troubles would be over and done with. My miserable life of conflicts and loneliness would be no more. I had just become so tired, and was so frustrated, that killing myself seemed to be the only logical thing to do. I couldn't find or think of any other way out. It seemed as though this was my only option.

I remember begging and pleading God to help me. I blamed Him for making me gay. I actually believed that He had. I believed He had messed up with me, that He'd made a mistake, and I let Him know how I felt about that. I believed He was being unfair with me, and that He was torturing me, and had turned His back on me from the very beginning. I just couldn't understand why it would be so wrong for me to have a boyfriend. I couldn't understand why it was so wrong of me to be so drawn to other men. I couldn't understand why He'd consider that to be something sinful.

Eventually, I decided I needed to make a few decisions. One, I wanted to live, so I'd better get the idea of suicide out of my head completely and start living my life better than I had. Two, I didn't want to blame God for something I'm sure He'd have never purposefully made me and then condemned me for being. Three, I wanted to obey God, and refrain from acting out on my homosexual desires in the future. I realized that when I didn't give in, I felt better about myself, and I felt closer to God. That is what sin does, by the way... it separates us from God. When you give up sinning, you draw closer to Him. So, I determined never to have another homosexual relationship for as long as I live.

I felt good about my decisions for about two or three years. Then, my brother found out I was gay. He was the first person to ever truly know this about me. It happened due to my own carelessness. He'd come across some gay pornography I used to have, and so it was pretty clear cut and dry that he knew. I couldn't weasel my way out of it. I couldn't deny it or pretend anymore. At least not with him. He confronted me about this, and in not the best of ways, but his confrontation sparked in me an urge to obey God more thoroughly than I ever had. I decided to give up pornography. I also decided to try to change. I felt in my heart that with God I could change. And I wanted to change.

I eventually, out of some desperation for help, came across Exodus International, who as it turned out, promoted the message that one could possibly change from gay to straight. Now, my decision to want to change, was mostly due to a desire in my heart for a family. I'd love to be able to find a woman I could fall in love with, and have kids with, and to grow old sharing my life with her. At the same time, I could say that I'd like to share my life with another man, but this dream is greater than that one.

During this last year, I've been trying to change my sexual orientation. I do, however, seem to be failing miserably to do that. There have been times when I truly have been attracted to girls. And I've also had times when I wasn't attracted to other guys at all. However, those attractions always seem to keep coming back. I am still gay. Even though this hasn't worked very well for me so far, I won't go as far as to say that it can't work for anyone else. With God, all things are possible. Even this, I think. And as much as I'd like to just give up and be gay sometimes, I still have that hope that it's possible for me. One change that has been permanent so far is my attitudes towards other guys and myself. I don't see them as unreachable anymore. I see them as potential friends. I also see myself being more like them than I ever used to think I was. I don't feel as different as I used to.

I look to God for strength and support. Sometimes I need Him so desperately in my life. I can feel so conflicted and frustrated with myself. I can feel so lonely and also so very tempted. I realize now that there's a great possibility I'll never have that family of my own. And that bothers me greatly sometimes. I hate the thought of always having to live alone. And the temptations bother me. I hate meeting a guy for the first time and instantly having that thought about how good looking he is. I feel torn in two. I know the very thing I want is the very thing I cannot have. I know that I want to be friends with other guys, but I tend to distance myself from them whenever I find myself attracted to them. Then there's the regrets. I feel so much regret for so many things I've done in my life. I hate the fact that I slept with that other guy. The thought of that really does bother me sometimes. I hate that I've looked up, and continue to keep looking up from time to time, so much pornography. I hate that I've pushed away so many people for fear of them getting close enough to me to find out that I might not be perfect, but gay. I hate so many things about my life.

I know God loves me though. I can hold onto that, if nothing else. I know that no matter what I do or how I feel about myself, no matter how rejected or abused I may feel, He'll always care deeply for me. He'll always be there for me, no matter what. And I know I'm forgiven for all those terrible things I've done. I don't know where this life is going to lead me, but I hope it'll always take me further and further toward God. I struggle with the fact that I'm gay. I deny that fact quite a bit usually, but it is true. I like other guys. But as much as other guys do it for me, none of them do it for me like God does. And I'll choose Him any day over anyone or anything else of this world.

“God, I may be gay, but I'm yours.”

When I look back on my life, I can't help but remember so many things. There were times when I was a kid that I wished I'd been born a girl. I played dress up occasionally. I've struggled to have a relationship with my dad. Sometimes I can feel really close to him, and other times I can feel so far away. I've always liked interior design—up to a certain extent (yeah, I hate to fit that cliché). And I've always felt it easier to relate to girls than other guys. I've hurt a lot of people. Some intentionally, others not—usually not. I've struggled to fit in at my church. I've resisted a lot of things the good Lord has wanted of me. I've struggled a great deal on whether or not to tell anyone in my family about my past and current struggles. There's just so much I could tell. But, for now, this is my story. It's not by any means my whole story, but it's a start.