Not Gay 2.0

My good pal Melissa left a comment on my last post "Reveal Eight Things About Yourself" that got me thinking. I had listed a same-sex tongue-touching incident (at age 5) along with my burning desire to own a pair of clogs as two of my secrets. Predictably, M laughed at me and jokingly questioned my sexuality with five conspicuously placed question marks. So I wrote this letter to her and found it appropriately revealing and deserving of its own post. So enjoy.

Dear M:

You really made me laugh when I read that. So is that it then? If you participate in some age-appropriate same-sex-play (like age 5) and then decide around age 40ish that you want a pair of clogs, that its time to get “honest” with yourself about your “true” sexuality?

You know what’s really funny? After I thought about your comment, I really had to stop and think about it. And then I found myself saying, hmmm, it’s nice that they have a way to test your blood type so they can know definitively whether you’re A+ or B+. But there’s no blood test for sexuality. OH! But if there was!!! How fun would that be? Especially if you could sneak up on people and take a sample? Anyway, I digress.

Ok. What’s impossible for you to know is that before starting this paragraph I stared at the page for 20 minutes thinking to myself, SHIT! How do you tell someone who is gay that you’re not gay without sounding like an ass and at the same time not sounding like you’re trying to deny (too strongly) that you are!

(Giving it a whirl) – I’m not gay. The thought of sex between men repulses me. The men don’t repulse me, but what they do does. However, I find the thought of two men loving and caring for each other beautiful. In fact any two people who love each other is a beautiful thing in my mind – how can it be anything but? I just try not to picture what men who are in love with each other do. BLEH! (My secret truth is that I don't know how ANY woman can like being with a man, which in some ways makes being a lesbian the only sane choice!!!! So help me god I believe that!!!)

I can’t help but be pro-gay. I’ve had (and lost) too many family members who were gay not to be of that mind. I think my problem is not that I’m gay, but that I’m a friggen momma’s boy. Growing up I did everything possible to avoid my dad. I refused to play sports that he liked (which was most of them) and took shelter under my mom’s wing. I think that I lost out on the effects of being around his “testosterone” during my formative years. Instead, I learned to cook and sew (yes I sew awesome!) and to love and to tell stories and be creative (all from my mom) all the while avoiding boy things. I didn’t like to get sweaty or risk skinning my knees and was afraid of heights. So basically, I was a big sissy growing up. I also wasn’t allowed to fight (dad’s rule) so that meant weekly beatings at school because I was the resident six-foot tall jewish punching bag that wouldn’t fight back. I think I spent more time lying on the playground than walking on it.

So all through school, I was this very tall jewish friendless guitar-playing computer-programming self-loathing dork. By the way, I’m none of those things anymore (except tall).

So, I’m sure I’m not gay, but I do favor the feminine side of things. I love to shop and love watching cooking shows. Anything creative or artistic inspires me. I love classical music and animals and a hike in the woods brings me so close.

Now if I can just get my hands on a friggen pair of clogs I’ll be all set!!! Every time I try on a pair in the shoe store, my wife wrinkles up her nose and says, “The bag AND the clogs? I don’t think so.” My two daughters just scream, “NO DAD! Not again!!!” The other problem is, I’ve reached a height of six-foot-two-and-a-half. Do you have any idea how large a pair of clogs are for a guy that size? Any shoe over a size 10 ½ looks like a boat to me. I wear size 12s. I put on a pair of clogs, look down and think “ridiculous”.

But I want them still! And Augustan Burroughs would be proud of me! (I wrote him a letter after I read his books and he wrote me back! No. I don’t keep his letter under my pillow. That would be gay!)

D

Reveal 8 Things About Yourself . . .

Ok. I’m psyched that PWADJ thought to include me in her "you've been tagged" game because I haven’t let the ink flow for so long. And yet, this is the last thing I have time for (ESPEICIALLY AT THIS MOMENT!!) And therefore, it’s probably the perfect time. By the way, did you know that a pen is a hollow tube which operates like a straw and allows your soul to leak out on the paper?

REVEAL EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF

1. When I was ten, I stole a twenty dollar bill off of my dad’s bureau. When I got questioned about it, I blamed it on our maid. I’m still burdened by guilt to this day. Fortunately, she wasn’t fired.

2. When I was in nursery school, me and some other five year old boy used to touch tongues whenever we stood in line out in the hall. I don’t remember why we did it, but I remember how thrilling it was. Sometimes it worries me that I still remember doing that.

3. Believe it or not, I know things about people (things they’ve done, things that have happened to them and what they’re thinking) that are impossible to explain. My explanation is that the information came to me through the Universe and that’s what happens when you’re plugged in. Example. I told a woman I didn’t really know very well that when she was twelve, her mother tried to drown her in a bath tub, when she lived in Pennsylvania. All I’ll say is that I’ll never ever assume again that it’s ok to share that kind of information with someone. She lost her freaking mind that I knew that about her and didn't accept my explanation.

4. I want to buy a pair of clogs really bad.

5. I’m a terrible person when I drink too much sometimes.

6. I drink too much sometimes.

7. I wanted to be an astronaut and a professional guitar player when I was a kid. My dad said, find something else to do because jews don’t do either of those things. So to show him, I became a damn good guitar player and earned money playing while in school. I never became an astronaut, but I did a lot of drugs and still made it into outer-space on several occasions. I swear to god I know what it’s like to go up there.

8. I’ve discovered the “real” me in the last couple of years and have been practicing very hard at being that person all of the time. I love that person a lot. And I’m not quite sure who the hell I was before I became him.

Dennis

Ascending . . .

Right now, life feels like this. Ripped from my foundation. Aloft. Connected to nothing. Yet, all I need to do is close my eyes and remind myself. You are loved - and in an instant, I am - and then I'm whole again.

I've discovered an inexhaustible source of love and sometimes I feel so guilty. Like someone left the backdoor to heaven unlocked, and I've wandered in and am welcome to stay, despite having cheated death.

You're all welcome here you know. There's room for all of you. Whatever the question, whatever the problem . . . the answer is always love.

d.tkon