We can debate til the end of time...

Acceptance should not negate conviction.  The good news is that it doesn't have to.  If you struggle to wrap your mind and heart around that, you may do well to soften your heart, open your ears, and relax your neck.

Don't get me wrong: I _will_ challenge and push back and ask questions and retain skepticism.  Crucial conversations must take place regarding the consequences of our actions on each other and on people we care about in our political, social, and personal lives.  Understanding and solutions come from such conversations, through the conflict, not by avoiding it.  Conflict is bound to arise from people of varying convictions pursuing what they believe is right and good.  And some people in pursuit of power, self aggrandizement, or justification will destroy peace around us if we are too busy holding hands to stand against them and do anything about it.  Not all views of either spirituality or secularism include a love of peace or prioritize harmony, reconciliation, and self-determination.  But I think humanity generally craves them enough that they can and will be fostered and magnified by example.



If I love you, I am going to care about your happiness and will be concerned when I see you choosing what seem like destructive beliefs and decisions.  I think we should be honest with each other.  But there are respectful, mutually beneficial ways to approaching those concerns, and there are tyrannical, stiffnecked, or defensive ways to approach them.  We know where we fundamentally disagree, and we're not likely to change each other's mind, especially not by reminding each other of disapproval at every opportunity without being ever willing to hear each other out.  And if I turn out to have been slightly short of full understanding of truth, or just plain wrong about someone's decisions, will I have destroyed good friendships to defend my own flawed understanding?  If I'm certain I'm right, and they're certain they're right, am I proud enough to staunchly believe I am the right one?  Am I arrogant enough to let that sense of righteousness alone justify behavior or treatment of others that I would consider wrong from anyone else?  No, and I don't think I have to.  I have my beliefs, but I don't know all things or the depths and breadth of anyone's heart and experience.  I try to keep this perspective ever present when approaching and having conversations about controversial or difficult subjects I might more easily rail against or rant about than attempt to understand.

That's why I think I'd change one lyric in this song: "We can debate til the end of time who's wrong and who is right, yet I can honor your choices and you can honor mine."

I believe that debate can only get us so far.  At some point, I think each of us has to accept that there's no way we can keep up with each other, or there's no way I can fully articulate every nuance of every thought and experience I have, let alone do it in a way that would be convincing to everyone or even anyone.  I may have a higher tolerance for tension and debate than others.  And I still do and will rant sometimes.  I do still think we can and should have productive, even if conflict-born, conversation.  But I will nonetheless commit and re-commit, and strive to honor your choices, even when I don't understand or agree with them (which is often, let's just be honest *wink*), and after some rigorous testing, I've found that even though in some cases we agree less than ever, I can generally expect the same of my truest friends, for which I'm grateful.

How not to become the next boy-renting NARTH officer

Hey, listen, it's time to stop fooling yourself. When you're cuddling compulsively (e.g. you can't seem to get enough or are fighting a persistent urge to rip off clothing), that cuddling is most likely a substitute for sex. Sorry to break it to you, but when cuddling is about natural affection and trust in a secure friendship, it's not something you do in lieu of prohibited naked fun. And if you have a perma-stiffy, you might consider either going ahead and just making out (call a spade a spade) or stopping that particular cuddle session before it catches up with you. Blueballing is only one small probable negative consequence. Warping a relationship is another, especially when boundaries and meaning ascribed to the cuddling aren't clearly agreed upon between both parties. But what's most concerning me is learning to justify behavior in a way that masks underlying motives with idealized but inaccurate motives, a skill not smiled upon in politicians or ex-gay therapists caught in sex scandals.

"Well, who's to say one motive is stronger than another? You don't know me."

Come on. Be honest with yourself. You know the difference between cuddling with a child, for example, or a pet, or a friend of the opposite sex, or a friend of the same sex with whom the idea of sex is either comical or extremely awkward, and cuddling with someone you're physically attracted to.

"Well of course it's going to be different, especially if I have unmet emotional needs related to men and can find intimacy and connection in male friendships. Stop trying to sexualize everything. Besides, just because I might get aroused for a moment doesn't mean I actually wanna go at it."

Fair enough. Like I said, only you really know the difference. Just ask yourself: if you're so sure you're just sharing healthy affection with other men, do you have as strong a desire to share that healthy affection with men who are not your type whom you trust and feel close to?

"But what if that's part of my healing? What if I need affirmation from men I find attractive?"

Do you really believe that's what it's about?

"...I'd like to...maybe...OK, probably not."

Thought so.

"But it's really nice, and it's not just a substitute for sex."

No, it's not just a substitute for sex. But look, if you thought it was OK to make out, would you rather be doing that than only cuddling and caressing?

"...No, because I'd have to have a relationship with someone to do that. I've never even kissed someone."

Oh, that's right. Speaking of your incredible ability to not kiss someone even though you've cuddled with someone in nothing but your garment bottoms...

"Hey, how do you know...?"

Oh, honey, let's just say I know very well. It's maybe a little embarrassing, but it's OK. Mohos are amazing at pushing the envelope in creatively chaste ways. Anyway, that caressing business you do: I get that it's sometimes completely benign and purely affectionate (e.g. arms, hands, scalp massage, back tickling). But when you're caressing each other's inner thigh or bare chest and teasing the underwear waistband by slipping your fingers barely under the edge...well, let me just put it this way: would you do that to your female friend?

"Well, you can't honestly expect me to draw a direct comparison. There are things guys just 'get', and we know each other, and they don't have anything I don't. I mean, I wouldn't shower with my female friends, but that doesn't mean showering with my male friends is sexual."

OK, then maybe consider whether you'd be at all disturbed if you saw two brothers doing it? Anyway, here, let me show you what I know now with another four years of physical intimacy experience under my belt...eh, you know what I mean. OK, now you've kissed someone and all that jazz. What's your answer about whether you'd rather be making out if you thought it were OK?

"Hm...yeah, OK, when I'm honest with myself, I probably would want to make out with at least these two cuddle buddies..."

I'm not saying that any time you get briefly aroused, it means you're just after sex. And I'm not saying you should merely obey your body's lusts. I believe it's good and right to learn to rein your appetites. I believe that particular member sometimes briefly responds to stimuli in its own way. And I certainly don't believe every attraction or affection has a raging undercurrent of sexual desire. I'm just saying the next time you're being physically affectionate with someone you find attractive, consider thinking, "Hey, do we have a close enough friendship for this cuddling to be genuinely trust- and affection-based? If we thought it was OK, would we go for it? If you were absolutely not my type, would I still want to cuddle? Am I mostly kinda hot to trot, and your body feels nice against mine?" There's nothing wrong with admitting it's mostly a physical thing, but I think your cuddle partner should be on the same page to avoid probable messes...pardon the wording.

I'm just concerned that the longer you keep basically using cuddling as a substitute for 'more', the less likely you'll be to really, honestly identify your motives in potentially conflicting situations. I'm worried that some or much of your caressing and holding is an expression of your desire for romantic and sexual intimacy, but you're refusing to recognize that and masking it with an effort to revolutionize male intimacy. That's probably very true for certain of your friendships, but by projecting the innocence of some cases onto all, you may make abnormal behavior or behavior inconsistent with a relationship into something normal in your head, and that's troublesome territory.

I'm also afraid you run the risk of using cuddling and caressing in a way which isn't 'breaking any commandments' but mostly just puts off actually making a decision about what you're going to do with all of this homosexuality and religion conflict you have. It's like you're keeping the religion part and following the rules but in a way that is partially lust behind a mask of affection and intimacy, the exact opposite of what you actually think you're accomplishing.

Short version: I think you're becoming a cuddle slut.

"OK, OK, I see what you're getting at. I do generally want to cuddle the hottest guys the most, and if we both believed differently, I'd probably just wanna go at it sometimes, so I'll try to be more aware of that. But...I have some friends who are totally physically attractive, but I'm not at all attracted to them in 'that' way. Can I still cuddle them?"

Of course. I remember what it's like to believe you're never going to be allowed sexual 'fun' with another guy and how much that can affect your desire to have what physical affection you can, no matter how sexually repressed the motives. Besides...y'know...none of us is perfect.

"Wait...have you cuddled with someone you mainly wanted to get freaky with or didn't necessarily have reason to trust intimately?"

...Yeah, cuddle...um...we're not talking about me. We're talking about you.

Why I've chosen to test, not abandon, friendships

When I realized I no longer believed in the tenets and doctrines of the LDS Church as I used to (the stories and explanations, not the values, which I still mostly share), or that I wasn't sure I believed in them at all anymore, many crises presented themselves, not least of which was a complete shift in my social interactions and change in my relationships among those closest to me.

I was going from, "I have so much respect for the fact that even if it's not always comfortable, you continue in the church and take each day on faith. I don't know if I'd get through what you're going through with such faith, and it's so inspiring that you do," to, "I'm so sad and disappointed that you've given up. You're forfeiting celestial glory and eternal life by overthinking your way out of the church. It's just hard to see you throwing it all away instead of hanging in there." I also went from sharing this part of my life which had been most important to me to not relating on this new level with most people I was close to and not knowing who to talk with about it. I wondered if I was necessarily going to eventually be pretty sure most people in my life believed a fantasy. How would our relationships adapt to this new dissonance?

Since late high school, my social life and friendship circles were developed within the church and its many programs and organizations. I worked at various places, and I volunteered with other organizations, but I had so many friends within the church that I never felt much need to seek friendships elsewhere, and I didn't. Over 90% of my Facebook friends are or have been LDS. My closest friends were active in the church, and not just the active-by-default kind or the "you can't take it all too seriously" kind but the deliberately active and consciously engaged kind. As much as I wanted to make sure I wouldn't leave the church as the result of social issues or interpersonal conflict ("the people are imperfect, not the doctrine," I always said), I realized that I was at a turning point where if I were to stay in the church, the reasons would be primarily social. I had a very difficult decision to make, but I had put off the doubts and tried to quell them for many years, and the reality of that hit hard.

I resigned any leadership in church-affirming or church-affiliated organizations as soon as I realized this. I was not about to cling to the feeling that I was useful and contributing while quietly disagreeing with mission and values statements and wondering if I even believed in God anything like the way I always had, or at all. I was not going to try to change any organization into what I thought it should be when my beliefs were increasingly in conflict with those the organizations had espoused all along. And I didn't want to cause some scandal by being an apostate in leadership and thereby unduly discredit those organizations in any way. I'd rather leave some distance between the time I stopped serving and the time I really walked away, if that's where I was headed. I believed I needed to diminish for a time while wrestling with these questions and determining my way forward without unnecessary political and social expectations and external pressures. I'd moved along with those quite long enough to satisfy myself that they were not going to keep me afloat, that I had internal conflicts to resolve now with or without those attachments. In my case, I believe integrity demanded I step down and step back.

Similarly, a temptation was to isolate completely from those who still subscribed to church doctrine. I no longer belonged among them or shared what we'd always shared, and my presence would be regarded as a "negative influence" by some. Additionally, I knew what my 8-years-ago self would tell my today-self, and I didn't care to hear it from everyone else trying to talk some spiritual sense into me. I also didn't want to unnecessarily affect anyone else. What if, a year or four from now, I decided I was wrong and went back to the church? What if, during that time, I had "led many astray" by my example and doubts and might later regret it? No, better to keep it mostly internal except when pressed. After all, I felt like the kind of clarity and epiphanies I was having were sparked by others who sincerely shared with me what they'd been going through. I had been a missionary and tried to help people gain a conviction of LDS doctrine. Did I regret that? Maybe in a way, but it's what I honestly believed, so it's hard to really regret something I did in full sincerity. "OK, then," I thought, "as long as I'm being honest and sincere about it, I'll share when asked." But I didn't want to have the conversation constantly, so I was careful how I talked about it to avoid eliciting probing questions unnecessarily.

It really was a "spiritual walkabout" of sorts, and I found most people respected that and didn't try to interfere. Some did, probably out of a desire to save me from withering as a coal removed from the fire, but it fell flat. Their language and demeanor reflected a lack of real understanding of what I was going through. Those who seemed to "get it", even if they'd become faithful again, understood that I knew the arguments against what I was doing and had made them effectively, myself, and this was my journey alone to navigate. Typically, their preaching amounted to, "Don't shut out the Spirit. Stay open." I could handle that.

It was challenging, at first, to maintain contact with my LDS friends. When you're going through a transition in life or trying to make changes you believe are positive and necessary, and the people you've surrounded yourself with are not on board, they can hold you back from that process, especially if they've never been through it quite the way you have. The easy answer is to push them all away, freeing yourself up to pursue your new direction without the baggage and weight of opposition and emotional pleas to "come back to the fold" and be saved. But I saw a problem in that notion.

If I was truly making the right choice, then I should not be threatened by opposing views. And if I alienated all of them, I'd be left quite alone and therefore either artificially lonely and sad (which would be a product of the social isolation but would conveniently be explained by some as 'spiritual decay') or needing social interaction so badly that I might fill the void with shallower, shinier friendships with people who may or may not actually care about my personal welfare. At my age, starting all friendships from scratch seems a really unpleasant endeavor and one I'd rather not undertake. Besides, if I was going in a good direction, and my relationships were built on more than certain common beliefs but were actually personal, intimate connections, they should be able to weather these changes. If I was going in a bad direction, I wouldn't have alienated everyone who would be there to help me get back up and dust myself off. And maybe there's value in letting them see more of the journey rather than fleeing and making it easy for those left behind to assume the wicked cannot abide the company of the righteous, or my conscience couldn't withstand the reminders. Maybe there's value in acknowledging that if this is right, they might benefit from seeing that I'm still me and still happy, and if it's wrong, I might benefit from knowing they'll be able to call my B.S. if I try to put on a happy mask. Besides, I cared about my friends, still, and believed they cared about me. So though I did withdraw from a few social circles where the group bonding was stronger than my individual relationships within the group, I chose to test my closer friendships rather than abandon them, even if I did distance myself in some ways for at least a time. I'm happy to say my close friendships have persisted.

That's not to say it's been easy. Hay-ul no, not nearly. Even though it was painful for me to see people hurt over my decisions and beliefs, and they were clearly struggling to adjust to a new way of viewing me, I was happy to find that most of the people I considered true friends walked with me when possible, and still allowed me to walk with them, and we've made the adjustments together, sometimes smoothly, sometimes roughly. Many are still adjusting. A few not-as-close friendships haven't weathered the change. I harbor relatively few hard feelings for those: I knew what those friendships were all along, and they weren't the kind of relationship to weather this, so I couldn't expect anything different.

The pleasant surprise has been that some have quietly come to me confessing that they've been through similar, and we've rekindled old bonds. Some have come to me confessing that they've never told anyone this, but they've not believed for years but carry on playing the role because that's what they contracted to do when they married, and they don't want to upset their children's lives unnecessarily by risking divorce or rocking the boat. Some friends of other belief systems have come back, and I've been able to see more completely beyond the "non-LDS" barricade I didn't realize I had put up. Many, more than I expected, have admitted to being somewhat or very "agnostic" in their faith, admitting they don't "know" it's true but hope it is, or that they firmly believe in the core of the gospel and very much see an evolving doctrine around that core, and many of these have "come out agnostic".

It's been stressful, which is another topic I intend to post about. But it's been good. And I feel more stable and "at peace" than maybe ever, despite obvious stresses in my life. That may be because I've stubbornly eliminated a doctrinal framework that conflicts with my natural man, and it may be because the world and universe make more sense to me now than ever or that I'm not trying to cling to false beliefs, and new or conflicting ideas don't cause the tension in me that they used to. Come what may, I hope to find and embrace truth. I'm no fount of bubbly happiness, but I feel as happy as ever. Perhaps it's not an "eternal joy" of the kind I used to experience and have, over the years, forgotten as a distant memory. Or perhaps it's a more sustainable joy from within and not based on what may be myth. Maybe I've learned a kind of happiness that I needed to, and one day I'll bring the LDS "gospel" back into the picture, and the combination will be greater joy than I've ever known. Or maybe I'll find a wonderful man and adopt children and have more joy than I thought possible. Who knows? Not me, and not you. But we can probably still be friends.

Contented Slovenliness, Broken Love, Fatherhood Fears, and other not-entirely-related things

Casual observation of the day: I find it easier not to care about dating, to be contentedly single, and to refrain from checking out hotties frivolously when I am letting myself go and grooming less. It's weird. But somehow makes sense.


...


On a related note: I've realized I'm probably scared to "not have an excuse" for never having had a serious relationship. What if the understandable conflicts around processing my homosexuality and religious background are gone, but I'm still floundering without an excuse for floundering because it's all I know how to do by now? What if I still choose to pursue people who aren't right for me, and I endlessly and senselessly play the martyr? What if I actually am terrible at romantically intimate relationships, and nobody can (or should have to) put up with me beyond about three months? What if I really am a "one-man guy"? Easier to let go and stop hoping, then. Is that how I've been happily single lately, or is there something more fulfilled in it?


...


On a related note: I must resist the tendency to live in a way which "explains" in my mind why I'm single or keeps me from hoping to find someone (being a bit slovenly, neglecting fitness, delaying professional development), and instead work to become the kind of person to whom the kind of person I want to be with would be attracted. That may mean risking losing any 'excuses' for being single in defiance of the aforementioned fear. I didn't take marriage prep and dating courses more than once for nothing. And all that listening to Dr. Laura and attending communication workshops and courses in college. And taking painful steps to improve relationships I could have abandoned. And going to college to educate myself. I need to improve myself personally, emotionally, financially, professionally, mentally...I have a lot of work to do. I've never been much of a pleaser, but I'm realizing I do want to minimize legitimate concerns a potential mate might have. But I want to do it for me, too...to build a life of my own. Surely it will be worth it, even if I live out my days as a bachelor. Life will be meaningful. The alternative is emptiness. I will contribute something. The alternative is being a leech worthy of non-existence. If I'm to resist the temptation to end it or lay it all down when I feel like a complete and total leech ultimately worth nothing to the world except occasional fun and distraction from 'what matters most' (which I did feel intensely not long ago), I have to find ways to contribute and make more of my life. I have to continually learn to live more selflessly, to be more open, to love more freely, to seek truth more humbly and earnestly, to laugh more purely.


...


On a related note: I'm simultaneously pushing away the urgent sense that it's a shame to let what little is left of my youthful beauty, my energy, and my abundant affection go to waste, unshared. Tragic, right? ...Or shared with flings. Hopefully, it doesn't all wane and wither before I meet the person I hope to spend the rest of my life with and look back fondly on our relative youth together.


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On a related note: I've always wondered, at times, if my love was broken. I tell myself I "should" feel strong "love" for people I actually trust, who have earned that trust, who say they love me and want me around. But I don't "miss" them when we're apart, in most cases, and I don't have urges to give them hugs or offer other affection gestures. I don't long to be close to them, even geographically. I do, however, feel affectionate urges for some people who I don't "appreciate" as much as others but who are just somehow "squeezable" in a "cute" or "vulnerable" way, and admittedly most often males of a not completely unattractive variety, even if I feel absolutely no sexual desire for them at all and even shudder at the thought. Is that normal? Do other people experience that? And I miss and long to be close to those to whom I'm attracted in a romantic or even sexual sense, if there's an emotional connection there, too, even before we have a history for them to really earn that trust and affection. I keep it measured and rein it in to not get carried away, but the fact that I have to rein my affection in with them while I've felt something vaguely like mild indifference to people who have invested and sacrificed for me and who I know "matter" to me has made me wonder if I've mistreated and neglected those family and friends in some incredibly selfish way, by not returning some affection they might feel, and it's bothered me. The fact that I've felt my general love and affection magnified by many times when I was in love and loved in return makes me wish I didn't need to be in love to feel that way and wonder if I'm broken for not feeling that way normally. Or was I only full of love when loved romantically or by someone I wanted or needed to love me. I wonder if that's one reason the "love of Christ" idea worked for me, because I wanted and needed to be loved by deity who fully knew me, and I felt secure in that belief. Secure. Is it all about security? Did belief in the love of Christ patch an insecurity? Am I insecure after all? The suggestions I've heard from reparative types or pop psychologists only superficially or initially seem to make some sense or even address the questions I'm voicing here, so it's unresolved so far. Whatever the malfunction, if any, I keep established friends close, regardless of whether their friendship or love makes me feel somehow joyous or sunny, because I trust them, and we understand each other in ways which can't be easily replaced, and I figure my stability and happiness may depend on having them close or accessible someday if not today, as may theirs.


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On a related note: I wonder if the same vague sort of indifference of affection I feel for people closest to me will eventually occur with my spouse and children as well, and it worries me. Sometimes it makes me feel like I shouldn't try and risk the damage. I hope I'm capable of keeping it. I admittedly fear this much, much less in the context of marrying a man, as I've personally envisioned, with at least one man, an endless, enduring path with ups and downs supported by an abiding, pure, invested, sacrificial love underlying us the whole way. I hope that vision was a reflection of truth.


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On a related note: I fear that very affection and sunny feeling I've felt for those I've fallen for is "supposed" to completely go away after a few years, based on statements by people who have been married a long time and insist the "infatuation" wears off, leaving a deeper, more abiding love that is essentially just another form of familial love, or the love of Christ, or whatever language they use. I do imagine it will wane, but I can't shake the notion that there's something about the love of spouses "in love", even if "in love" requires work to maintain, that is patently different from the love you feel for a best friend. I have faith that "in love", as uniquely distinct from other love, is possible and preferable in a mature marriage. Call me nutty.


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On a related note: I have had a few moments in recent years in which I felt a notable 'spark' with females and actually thought, "Wow, just for this brief moment, I feel like I could totally kiss you right now." Then there's the less "charged" but comforting moment of, "There's something that feels very right about having her on my arm and keeping her safe right now, more so than I've felt with a guy so far." I think I'm attracted to many of the same things in women as I am in guys, but if it's ever going to work with a woman, I may have nailed down some requirements, the common thread between these women: really skinny, short, playfully sassy, and seductive. Oh, and "liberal" as far as Mormons go. Bring on the skinny, liberalish, forward Mormon/ex-Mormon women!


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On a related note: I've realized I'm mildly terrified of being responsible for anyone else's financial stability or shelter as a husband or father. One thing I loved about the couple of people I've fallen for was that I knew that if I failed, they'd pick up the slack. I believe the reverse to be true in other aspects of life, that I would make up for their shortcomings or priorities in other areas. But I would like to not have to rely on that. I have a goal to become capable of supporting someone besides myself, to position myself to be a father and partner, however I can be, should that opportunity present itself. Maybe it won't present itself until I take the steps to be ready for it. I'm finally beginning to take those steps. I need to take them faster, though. I'm nervous. But through confronting the nervousness I find confidence.


...


Here's to self-improvement apparently without immediate romantic or eternal religious incentive.


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On a related note: this doesn't necessarily mean I'm "back". Maybe not. Maybe.

Moho self-absorption

Many of my straight/hetero friends have met many of my gay/SSA friends. They most often really like each other or at least get along fine. But if there's one thing my straight friends have most noted about the mohos, as opposed to other gay or straight friends they have, it's that they seem unusually self-absorbed. And they're not just talking about the self-denying ones or the newbies who are in their early stages of gay adolescence. I want to make it clear that these same friends have made it clear they genuinely like many of my moho friends and think they're nice, or fun, or accomplished, or whatever. But there's just a sort of lack of outward-reaching interest beyond occasional token gestures. And some of that can come from things like shyness of mohos around certain of my friends, or being new to hanging out with people they can be open around, or whatever. But I've heard it enough that it's given me pause on a few occasions.

I can't deny it. That's not to say we don't care about anyone but ourselves. Usually quite the contrary, I think, though there are clearly exceptions. It's not to say we're self-centered in the sense that we only think of ourselves in making decisions, harming others with behaviors in selfish abandon. There are as many of those as in any other crowd, but I'm not sure there are any more so, and where there are, they shouldn't get a free pass. And let's be honest, we're still (mostly) guys, and guys often aren't as great at showing interest as girls in general. And yes, sometimes the collective voices of blogs or discussion groups take on an overpoweringly "woe is me" tone, which is probably not productive and can be annoying. But what I think they mean is that many individuals tend to be very caught up, in our heads and in conversation in groups, in figuring ourselves out, resolving our internal conflicts, deciding what path to follow, and doing what it takes to follow the path we've chosen which, either way, is often a non-negligible effort to shift certain paradigms and deal with severe social and internal consequences and stress, and it comes across as disinterest in anything outside of our immediate sphere of mohodom.

Unfortunately, I think it's that conflict or ongoing effort to maintain a perspective and help others to do so (an indicator that it really is no casual effort and requires more than praying and fasting away the gay or more than fooling around with your first crush and calling it a relationship), combined with 'fighting' and 'striving' to be a certain kind of man or woman, combined with possible years of feeling inadequate, incomplete, assaulted (by one side or another) broken, or sinful which often overshadows what would otherwise be a very sensitive, perceptive, affirming personality. In a way, it seems tragic to me. But in a way, it can be a growing process which may eventually lead to a more whole, confident, re-integrated person in the long run...hopefully...and hopefully without losing the unique parts of one's personality which have set him or her apart from others.

So to those who seem bent on harping on mohos for self-absorption, I say fine: you may be right. But you don't get to do that and harp on them to comply with what you think they should be doing with their lives. You don't get to add to the chorus of voices telling them how to live and then harp on them for being caught up or nearly obsessive in trying to take your commandments seriously and finding it far more difficult than maybe you've ever known it to be. If you're doing both, go find a carbon copy of yourself to abuse. You're a tyrannical ass, and it shows in your eyes. You probably know your hypocrisy and dishonesty, somewhere deep inside of you, which is what makes you so cold.

To the rest of you, please forgive your moho if he or she seems a bit self-absorbed at times. Help them come outside of their 'struggle' or efforts sometimes, constructively reminding them that you want and need their interest and attention sometimes, too, appealing to what may be their actual natural tendency to care about others rather than scolding them for being something bad and uncaring. But allow them some time to ruminate and to process as well. This is tough stuff for many, whether or not you think it 'should be' and they should just buck up or just follow the prophet or just embrace their gayness. Unfortunately, they're often in a conflict between their most prominent or even cherished beliefs and one of the most powerful human emotional drives--that of (emotionally and physically) intimate companionship--and it's causing them a great deal of dissonance and necessary personal adjustment, even after heading down one path or another. Many of them eventually figure out a satisfactory balance which allows them to carry on. Some take a long time, others less so.

There are some who completely eschew all gay influences in their lives and try to just live on their own, forging a life of heteronormativity the best they know how, and they may succeed, at least for a time. Others may have left the church when they're young and have developed relatively normally within social circles which unquestioningly accept their homosexuality and don't constantly remind them that they've chosen to forfeit Celestial Glory. Either of these are probably less self-absorbed in the way most mohos are, but they've distanced themselves from conflicting voices, an option which may not be available, desirable, or right to many mohos, especially those who come to terms with things later in life.

Some are actively involved with the church and have a supportive community of friends who share their challenge and want to similarly live the standards of the church. Some will marry, others won't. Either way, their friends will have ups and downs and will need each other for support and simply can't go back to the notion that you're better off shoving it all under the rug and isolating yourself from those who personally understand what you're going through...they've seen that as a path which worked for a while but which stifled their true potential and emotional connection with their spouses or others in their life. As such, even among those who are firm and unyielding in their path, there will be exposure to doubts from friends questioning whether it's all worth it, whether the Lord would understand if they just found a same-sex partner for this life and left the rest to be resolved in the next, repenting for slipping up again, or simply needing an emotional recharge from trusted male friends who know what they've been through.

I do have moho friends I would consider not self-absorbed at all, at least no more than anyone else in or out of the church. It's not everyone.

But it may be me. At least sometimes. And when I realize it, I try to focus more outwardly, let go of the conflict or needing to decide where I'm headed and what, exactly, it entails, and see where I can respond to the needs of or learn about the interests of others, getting outside of myself. There's a balance. And maybe at times I will have to quiet the voices on one side or another...or both, in order to sort out my own way.

My friends have often followed up their observations of self-absorption with something like, "I just wish they showed more personal interest in things other than their own struggle and social circles, but despite my own challenges in life, I can't imagine what mohos go through, trying to reconcile all of that, so it's hard to fault them too much." I've appreciated that. And it makes me want to make sure I'm that much less self-absorbed, or more outward-reaching, so I don't take that kind of friendship for granted.

Yeah, I still think of him often...but it's different...

Well, it's been a while since I've broken down into tears over the break-up. I've gotten teary-eyed thinking about things a couple of times in the last couple of weeks, but not even that in the last week or more. I'm no longer always thinking of it, of him, wondering what we could have been, wondering what he thinks of me or how he sees our short relationship, whether we'll ever talk again, whether we'll be friends in some way or come together again in a fantasy love story in the future.

But it's not all settled yet. The last week or two, I've still felt an occasionally strong urge to contact him. To reach out just to touch base, to tell him how I feel about him, that I'm finally OK with things even if I wish they could have been different, that I miss him, that if he ever wants or needs someone to talk to, I'm here and have moved on enough that I don't think it would make things harder emotionally to talk, even if only to touch base, or even if only to part, for now, on less messy terms.

But then I've thought, "Why? What am I really looking for? Would I really be doing it for him or myself? Am I ready to hear, 'Please don't ever contact me again' if that's how he feels? I don't think I am, so that's probably an indication that I should wait. But I also would like to know where I stand with him rather than guess and wonder, even if it's only an occasional thought. So I guess contacting him might be more for me. But I really do want him to know I care, lest he think I don't. Who am I kidding? I always do that: try to make sure they know I care when I'm the only one who's at all distraught and am just projecting. Or is it that I just want him to know I wouldn't reject him if he tried to contact me? I wonder if he is open to contact but thinks I'm not because I said I needed to get over him and he needed to focus on his 'new direction' in life." Reminding myself to face the probability that he is not going through all of this or that he is the one who called it off and is the one who will decide when or if we'll re-initiate contact. Then I thought, "No, he's probably not even thinking about me anymore. Let's be honest, he probably remembers 'us' as a summer fling." "Shoot," I thought, "the fact that I even am thinking this way means I should probably wait." So I am.

I feel pretty "sobered up" from the whole thing, but I obviously still think of him, care about him, and appreciate his friendship, not just his affection. I more confidently realize I can find someone else at least as good for me, just as good a person, with traits he lacked even if lacking some he had. There will be others if I'm open to them. I'm not ready to start looking, for various reasons. But I'm mostly over the feeling that moving on now would be to disrespect what we had. I've accepted that I valued what we had, and if I thought I could revive it by making changes in my life, saying the right things to him, or sacrificing certain things, I am confident I would, but that doing things I think he would want or which I wish I had been better about doing or expressing while I was with him, in case he quietly drew conclusions I didn't realize he was drawing, simply won't change it. So I move on, look ahead, try to be who I believe I should be, and continue trying to become the kind of guy with whom I think a healthy person who would be good for me would want to form a lifetime companionship and future family. But knowing there's more and probably better ahead doesn't mean I'm glad to leave him behind.

Watching (mock me if you will, and let's be honest: some of you will) Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince last night, he came to mind during the scene where Ron is dazed in the infirmary and, in his delirium, asks for Hermione and not his little psycho-stalker girlfriend. I thought, "Ugh, I wonder if he thinks of me as the stupid girlfriend who thinks she's a part of his life but was just a passing fancy. I wish I were his Hermione. I felt that kind of bond with him, the desire to be there as a friend above all else. Great, I am the stupid girlfriend." Then I chuckled to myself, shrugged, and went back to enjoying the movie. We don't have years of history for me to be that tried-and-true friend, and he has other friends who are going down the path he wants, and they may build the friendships I wish I could have built with him. They're good people. We each have our own friends. So it goes with break-ups. Yet part of me wanted, last night, to contact him to say, "I want you to know that I will always love and care about you and wish we could be friends even without the romance, and I hope maybe we still can, if not now then someday. And if you don't agree, or do, just let me know, and we'll move on accordingly." But...for all the above reasons, doing that doesn't seem like the best idea, so I wait.

Yeah, I know that to some (many?) of you, this will sound like the ramblings of a lovestruck teenager getting over his (her?) first breakup. It's not that, but I can't prove that to you, so you'll believe what you want. I've gone through similar feelings to varying degrees with other friends, male and female, so I know this isn't unique to this kind of relationship. It's just intertwined with what were very intense feelings of bonding, romance, love, affection, whatever. It's not a huge thing, just a nearly automatic thought process that happens from time to time.

When I stop being all conflicted over it, that will be the time to contact him. ...or let it go. ...or something. It's funny: I've been through a few "break-ups" of different kinds, and they all share common threads and different situations, so I learn from each one to apply it to the next, wonder how much of what I'm feeling is "normal", how much is indicative of issues I should learn to resolve, how much is completely neurotic without my knowing it. Hopefully someone out there benefits from my ranting, and maybe some of you have input. Meh. I have Halloween festivities to attend to. Pardon me while I take off my angsty dumpee moho costume and put on my cider-making, game-playing uncle costume.



Side note: to commemorate Halloween, I added my last-year Halloween post to "Highlights from the past". Happy Halloween!

"Nothing Will Change Between Us"

Another in my series of people's responses to my coming out agnostic.

Many people say, "Nothing has changed." Not true. Never true. They may also say, "I'm still your friend and care about you." That I believe. ...For the most part.

What "friend" means, exactly, shifts and adjusts. There are a few who become rather distant and put on happy, shiny faces when we happen to meet, but they have stopped calling, texting, inviting, or radiating warmth when we hug. They've gone distant. Whether it's because they have to detach for my path to hell not to bother them or be painful, or they think less of me, or they are afraid of their own demons, or whatever, I don't know. But I've gone distant toward people in my past. Probably in my present, too. We all do it. It's sad, and it's sometimes necessary, sometimes wrong, but it's understandable.

For the most part, my friends are still my friends. But there's still a common complication. When we're together, just the two of us, it does feel as if nothing has changed, or at least very little, even if we don't relate on the religious level on which we used to. But the change becomes painfully clear in groups. Even in small get-togethers of friends and/or family, something as simple as a prayer over dinner is a brief reminder that I, who used to be a "worthy priesthood holder" who would offer heartfelt prayers, am now the lone heathen who no longer prays, at least not in the way I used to, to a literal deity I was certain would listen and answer. If asked to pray by someone who either doesn't know or has forgotten my change in beliefs, I cannot do so in good conscience, feeling like it would be a mockery for me to pretend, so I decline, hopefully politely, and try to ignore the awkward response or reassure them I'm not bothered.

In those notably rarer occasions when I'm still invited to a group get-together consisting primarily of "believers", I am constantly reminded of my own change. It's nothing they do. They don't mean to make me feel like an outsider. I just necessarily feel so. I no longer share their enthusiasm for a conference talk, despite often sharing their enthusiasm for the underlying principles of it. If I try to share my enthusiasm for the principles, I find myself dicing the talk into universal and LDS bits, setting the LDS bits aside to find our points of agreement, an effort which unfortunately only emphasizes my "lack" of faith (or, more accurately, my faith in things different from those in which it used to be placed). If I remain silent, I am the voiceless boy in the corner, too misfit to offer his thoughts.

But I haven't decided which is more painful: being welcomed with open arms into a room full of people with whom I used to identify and with whom I no longer share what I know is probably the single most important system of beliefs in their lives but now among whom I'm an outsider, or knowing that I am now welcome tentatively in many groups only as "a less active," a taxing presence they must tiptoe around, not someone they are truly at ease with as they are among the active or believers. I'm sometimes not invited to outings of the faithful because my existence is troublesome. It used to be for me. I loved that I could spend time with a large group of friends and feel totally at ease knowing they shared my beliefs and my values and standards of behavior. I didn't understand the meaning of it when friends whose beliefs or standards were different insisted they were fine respecting my beliefs and keeping my standards and being around me and my friends: I was uncomfortable with it, and I assumed they must be more comfortable with their own kind as well. I didn't get it. I know the other side now. I know they were sincere. I know they saw past that difference. I know I wanted to, in a way, but didn't. I somewhat sadly accept that some of my friends don't understand that. They don't see that my values and standards of behavior may match theirs more closely than many LDS people's would if those individuals were removed from the accountability and monitoring eyes and ears of the LDS community.

But not all changes are negative. Some friendships actually become closer. Some LDS or otherwise religious friends admit their own questions, doubts, or outright disbelief. We talk, and we seek positive solutions, outlooks, and principles. We identify values we do believe in, and we freely admit possibilities and cluelessness. Insecurity or defensiveness gives way to raw uncertainty, and we come away reassured that others are truly honest seekers of truth and not just clinging to theism, atheism, religion, or philosophy out of some emotional defense or need for certainty, fabricated or otherwise. We grow closer and know we've found, in each other, someone who will admit when they just "don't know" but is trying to do the best with what they do have and believe.

Sometimes, I come back together with friends I'd grown apart from years ago because I was so deeply convinced of the truthfulness of the gospel as taught in the church but unintentionally defensive of people who believed differently. I find they are really quality people who are committed to principles I really believe in but whom I'd overlooked because they engaged in behaviors I just couldn't support. Now, we find that we have now grown towards each other in some ways, and I see what great people they've become and what a shame it is that I let religious differences and behavioral standards blind me, even a little, to that. In my effort to form eternal friendships based on eternal truths, I ignored friendships based on eternal truths but disagreeing on where those truths came from or how to apply them to one's life.

Then there is a whole other class of friendships: people who, now that I'm maybe less judgmental or more familiar with more liberal (less fundamental) perspectives, reveal a (sometimes surprisingly large) aspect of themselves that they don't reveal to those who are more "conservative" in their outlook. I find out that people I thought were goody-goodies (as people have perceived me) do or believe things I never expected. Or they behave in ways I still don't understand even though I'm supposed to be a heathen, or they believe things I don't see room for in LDS doctrinal framework but which do make some sense if you scrap LDS doctrine, and I wonder if it's only a matter of time before they see the contradiction and give up on one or the other, or whether I'm just too limited in my perspective and have misunderstood or made too many assumptions about what I thought were eternal truths. Sometimes, this is an expanding, rewarding exchange, and I find people are more complex or interesting than I knew. Sometimes, it's just fun and silly. And sometimes, it's mildly insulting that they thought I'd be excited or supportive of such cynical outlooks or destructive behavior, or it's unsettling, like finding your sweet old grandpa's freaky porn stash and hoping not everyone has such secrets...

And of course, some friendships really are mostly the same. We go out to lunch, watch movies, chat online, play Wii, talk about life and philosophy, laugh together about life's foibles, cook together, whatever. Often, we don't talk much about church or doctrine, and when we do, I just talk objectively, showing understanding without affirming my own belief in some doctrine or another. I may temporarily don the hat I wore so often of spiritual advisor, but operating on backup data rather than current conviction, or I may play the devil's advocate to help them think something through, and they may arrive at their own conclusion, whether or not I agree, and we move on. But mostly, we tend to set aside matters of religion. We have plenty of other things to talk about, including many common goals, values, principles, people, and interests. There is more to our friendship than even overarching and deeply held religious or philosophical belief, so we shift gears and maintain bonds based on other aspects and facets of life. We may each hope the other one day sees things more our way, but if not, we both figure we're all either going to find out someday whether anyone was right, and who, or we're going to fade out of consciousness entirely anyway, so what's the use in bringing strife into our relationship over something we both believe or hope will eventually work itself out one way or another?

The changes and adjustments aren't easy, but forutnately, the negatives are generally balanced or outweighed by positives, and though it's requiring a non-negligible amount of emotional and mental energy to adjust to the changes in my relationships, I hope it's worth the effort to maintain the relationships I need in my life and develop the friendships which will help me move forward and continue striving to be a better me the best I know how.

Not Reaching Out, Part Deux

After publishing my previous post, I pretty much expected the sort of comments I got. But as usual, being challenged has helped me think through things a bit more (stop rolling your eyes and saying, "Oh great, more thinking." It's what I do. Get used to it). :-)



This sounds like you analyze every relationship at every level as if it were a chess game.

Well it kinda does, doesn't it? But these scenarios I'm talking about amount to about half a dozen times in my adult life. Not a pervasive pattern, but a nuisance. Most of my friendships develop pretty naturally and organically. No, there's no "battle plan" or "model" I try to follow in relationships. People and interpersonal dynamics are too complex, too individual, and too dynamic to possibly hope to fully understand or write a definitive play book. But I try to identify my own patterns, which does help me with future relationships and communication...though it's admittedly sometimes more about trying to solve the puzzle for puzzle-solving's sake (now I'm thinking about the 3 episodes of House I watched last night...I think I may finally be hooked) but telling myself there's a practical application. Dang it.



If you want to reach out, but don't, please don't be mad at them for it.

True. So instead I'll just be mad at them for being jerks in the first place. ;-) OK OK, it's really about the dynamics of the relationship, not anybody's particular personality flaws, theirs or mine. I care about these cusses. I just don't want to give them the remote control to my emotions again.

Detached, carefree person + invested, sensitive person = messiness in many cases.

Unless I'm confident my vulnerability has waned, I worry about ending up in the same mess. I'm trying to learn to let go of that fear and manage the lingering caution. Just going along for the ride again, though, is not an option. What's that saying about insanity being expecting different outcomes from the same, repeated actions? Yeah...



Perhaps they are doing the same and both of you are denied some positive innocent friendly companionship as a result?

It's possible they're doing the same, but most of the people this has happened with are quite different, quite non-analytical. As for companionship, it's about weighing the emotional risks vs. the benefits. Friendship hardly seems productive when one person (*raises hand*) is dysfunctionally hurt-prone in that particular friendship, due to sensitivity and past heartache. I think sometimes it's best to move on rather than be that annoying, needy person in someone's life who just can't seem to let go after the friendship has outlived its usefulness. It's also not fair to contact them out of some thirst for affirmation when I don't really want friendship again. My motives matter, too. But yes, no matter what the trade-offs or benefits, we might be missing out on what could be positive friendship, which is what sometimes brings me back to test the waters.



I bet half the people you are wanting to connect with really don't think of things the way you've described them here.

If you mean they don't analyze things like I do, you're probably right. If you mean they don't see what they've done as manipulative, you're probably right. If you mean they might say, "I don't know what happened: everything was fine on my end," you're probably right.

I've been in that position, where I cared about friends and wanted their friendship but didn't return their feelings or desire for more time together or more emotional intimacy, or whatever. I was unintentionally insensitive to a couple of female friends who I think had feelings for me and didn't know what to do. I might have said, "I value our friendship, just potentially not as much as you do right now." But...ouch. I thought maybe they needed distance for their own sake, to detach a bit, but I wasn't about to ask for that because it might send a signal that I wasn't interested in friendship, when I was. I watched them go through inexplicable reactions to things I said or did and wondered why they were so emotional. It seemed, at times, like they were torturing themselves by continuing to spend time and keep contact with me, manifested by emotional reactions, including anger. Being friends almost became a chore, but I did want to prove I wanted their friendship, so I continued to deal with it and enjoyed the good times and endured the stressful times and repeated mini-DTRs. "Women," I'd grunt.

Then I later found myself on their side, and I understood a bit better where they were coming from. I had one guy friend (with whom I had a sort of romantic entanglement but who withdrew from the friendship more than I did once the romantic stuff was wearing off) later tell me he thought I was crazy-emotional over what happened between us, but he had since been in a relationship that put him on the other side, and he sympathized with me.

If you mean they're not doing anything manipulative, I disagree for the couple of cases I'm thinking of, though I'd be happy to be wrong. I'm not going to discuss the "evidence" here, but I'll just say I'm not just inventing to explain some puzzling behavior. I've observed their manipulative or selfish behavior with other people in addition to patterns with me, and I don't presume to be a special exception. But the kicker: I know I've behaved in ways that were emotionally manipulative without having intended them that way, usually due to some insecurity, and I'm glad my friends who struggled with their feelings for me stuck with it and kept coming back because some of those have become my most lasting friendships, even after their feelings subside and our mutual interest equalizes.

Though I don't think they mean to be malicious, the problem comes when I'm no longer emotionally equipped or interested enough to withstand or entertain their lashes. Maybe I'm weaker than those friends of mine who endured. Or maybe I'm just afraid and insecure and haven't learned to deal with that.



...reach out with the simple motivation of genuine concern and interest in them, no focus on yourself

I think I have done this, with the possible exception of letting down defenses I put up for a reason and believe must stay in place. However, something that's harder but I think is necessary is letting go of the fear of being hurt again. I suspect that fear only makes it that much more likely that it will happen again, a sort of self-fulfilling thing.



You think way too much. Just call. Or text. Or facebook message. Or don't. lol.

I think I get that. I mean, I almost did that the other day when I was thinking of someone I haven't talked to in a long time. But there are actually circumstances in some cases, in addition to the vulnerability thing, which I chose not to go into in the post which are relevant but...just not right to publish, I guess. And with that, I shall let this go, maintaining my throne as King Overanalysis. On the other hand, last night I did just say, "Screw it, I want to contact him, so I'm going to," and I sent a brief e-mail to check in.

I think I've learned a thing or two from all this and responding to your comments, so thanks! But it'll do no good if I sit here blogging all day and thinking about what I've thought about, now, will it? ;-)

Not Reaching Out

Every once in a while, I feel like reaching out to someone I've been hurt by or who has expressed a desire to backpedal our level of interaction when I didn't share that desire. It's happened with a girl or two, but it's admittedly been more so with a small number of fellow mohos, usually when there's been an attraction on my part, whether or not I actually "fell" for them. I tell myself, "It's not worth putting yourself at risk by reaching out in some way and just giving them the upper hand again because they've never proven they can have the upper hand yet show real sensitivity and open, honest communication while having it (maybe for fear they might lose the advantage or lose your friendship?), and you'll just end up getting hurt again." Then I remind myself, "They can only hurt you as much as you allow them to. You don't have to expect anything from them or hope your interaction will be what it was before things went south. You could just check in like you do with other people you've not been so vulnerable with." Then I think that the fact that I'm even debating this really does mean I'm not as "over it" as I'd like to be because if I were, there'd be no question, no risk.

Or I think it at least means that even though I'm pretty sure I couldn't be "hurt" the way I once was, or I've detached enough to not be vulnerable in that way, I wonder if we can reconnect in any way more than incidentally without it going in that direction again, and if it's only going to be incidental, I'd almost just as soon leave it alone entirely. I'm not sure I've never navigated that successfully.

I figure I've hurt a small number of my friends because they kept coming back after we realized their interest was greater or more invested than mine, and I felt bad that they couldn't just relax and be friends, and I didn't want to push them away myself but could see it would probably be best for them if they would withdraw. I genuinely cared about them, but having to constantly rehash things or walk on eggshells to avoid hurting them was so tiring that I wondered if it wouldn't be better to just go our separate ways. Sometimes, they have withdrawn, and while I felt bad, and it stung a little that they felt they had to protect themselves by removing me, I also knew it was probably best for them and cared about them enough to just let them do it. And I was happy when they'd come back, but there's always this undercurrent of me having hurt them, even unintentionally, so I try to be really careful without walking on eggshells or underestimating their resilience.

I never understood their behavior and sensitivity until I found myself on their side of a friendship. I hate the idea of being in their position indefinitely (especially with someone less sensitive than I am, because I'm pretty sensitive but still did some pretty clueless/thoughtless things) or putting another friend in the position I was in, confused and feeling ultra-cautious all the time, so I figure it's less messy and better for everyone to just stay apart and not initiate contact even if I'd welcome contact from them.

So I'm left with this mix of thoughts and emotions: I want to know how they're doing and what's going on in their lives. I want to know what they ate for lunch today, how the new job has been going, how life across the country is treating them. But to reach out and ask would be to initiate contact they haven't requested and when they haven't done anything to reach out, which puts me right back in the position I was in when we parted: more invested and more pushy than they. So I refrain. And I figure they probably don't even notice, or so I tell myself to make it easier to not reach out. While their lives are marching on just fine without me, they at least probably occasionally wonder what's up with me. But if they really cared to know, they'd ask me. They'd text me or e-mail or call. They'd reach out. But what if they're thinking the same about me and refusing to reach out out of defensiveness? Let's be honest, though, they weren't the ones getting hurt. If anyone should be defensive, it's me, but I'd be willing to reach out...except...fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice... The burned child fears the flame. What excuse does the unburned child have?

It dawned on me recently: I need (or want) them to reach out, genuinely, sincerely, selflessly, vulnerably. I just don't care to put myself back in the position I was in which led to the need for "space" in the first place, and contacting them is, by definition, putting myself back into that place. Especially when the other person has contacted me unexpectedly only when they had something about themselves to tell me about before suddenly running out of time, or they texted me until I texted back, then never replied, as if they just had to prove they still had the upper hand and could make me reply without needing to reply back to me. And I don't play those kinds of games. I walk away from them very shortly: I have no patience for them.

Sometimes I wonder, "But what if they just need to know that you're open to hearing from them, that you're over it (or getting over it) and do care about them, so they don't go away thinking you simply don't care?" And then I remember, "That's not what they were doing before, and it's probably not what they're doing now. If they really care, if they really want contact with you, they'll initiate it. Even if they think you're upset, if they're too immature to make themselves vulnerable by reaching out when they fear you might not return it, then they are proving exactly the traits which led to your 'break-up' in the first place, and nothing has changed." So I shrug in resignation and give myself a quick, reassuring nod to affirm my confidence, and move on to something else, wondering if I'll ever figure it out.

Beyond the Social Awkwardness

The other night, I was talking with a new mohomie (new to me), and he had a smirk on his face, which I asked him about (as I tend to do). He said something about enjoying learning people's stories after having seen them around for so long but not knowing them personally, and that led to discussing how long we'd seen each other around but were just now getting to know each other. How long had we figured the other person was disinterested? Part of our conversation involved discussing first impressions, and we learned a thing or two.

But before I describe that, I'll say you obviously can't interact with everyone you want to when you want to. Time and energy and emotional investment don't allow you to become friends with everyone at once. I choose those in whom I invest my time and energy somewhat selectively, I think, reserving enough time for quality interaction that I feel like I'm actually connecting with and maintaining quality contact with a few people but leaving enough time for more incidental, "shallow" interaction to find possible casual friendships or future closer friendships as well. Of course, as I discussed with another friend last night, there's often one person or another who isn't as interested in spending a lot of time together or talking as much, and it can be a little difficult to learn to navigate those friendships where personal interest is uneven or is of differing natures (romantic vs. platonic, etc).

Back to the topic at hand: about a week prior, I had gotten to know one of our mutual friends who invited me to a get-together with some guys from a group I just didn't think I related to, and I almost backed out and said I'd just drop him off and pick him up later (I was his chauffeur for the weekend, since he was visiting from out of town) because I didn't want to crash the party or be this awkwardly not-entirely-welcome presence. But in the end, I decided to buck up and give it a shot, and I had a good time. Now there I was, sitting in the room of one of those guys, with another mutual friend of ours, having a good time and enjoying each other's company and wondering what took us so long, shaking our heads and musing about the signals we had interpreted from each other unnecessarily.

We wondered why it took so long for us to hang out, and we learned that we each had the impression that the other person was disinterested. This isn't terribly uncommon for me: I'll chat with people, but I honestly don't find most people terribly interesting on first impressions. I'm generally slow to warm up to people, and I'm slow to find them interesting. It's just kinda how I roll. So I think people read that, and they respond with equal disinterest or defensiveness. But whatever the case here, we learned that we were seeing each other as disinterested when that wasn't necessarily the case.

I told him I'm a shy guy by nature and completely introverted, and I don't naturally go up to a group and introduce myself. I sometimes introduce myself to individuals but not groups without some real effort. And this guy was always with a group. Well, I also saw him as a super conservative Utah wannabe-sporty boy, and wasn't sure how we'd relate. There were always other people who appeared more relatable, so I wasn't sure introducing myself to him was worth the effort. Anyway, I told him when there's a group of people, I'll sometimes come up and talk with someone I know within that group, for example our mutual friend who was there with us as we were discussing this. But I told him when I did that a few times, he and others kind of avoided eye contact or turned away and started talking to each other, which I read as disinterest or even possible disdain for me on some level, so I never tried for more communication. In fact, they have a female friend who hangs out with them who I always thought was kind of looking at me thinking, "Who are you and what do you want with my friends?" Because of these signals I read, I backed off and figured that was just one group I'd not get to know at all, and that was OK because, like I said, I only have so much energy for expanding social circles. He laughed and said that certainly wasn't the impression he'd intended to give and that he thought I was disinterested and didn't care to speak to him, which is why he disconnected when I came over and started speaking only to the mutual friend and not to the group (not knowing that speaking to the person I know when they're standing with their group is sometimes my shy-guy way of opening the possibility of getting to know others in the group). Oh, the zany miscommunication of it all.

The thing is, it's just hard to know sometimes whether we're reading signals correctly or to be aware of the signals we're sending and how they might be interpreted. An acquaintance recently blogged about how he goes to Matis firesides and kind of stays detached but secretly wishes some people would talk to him. He commented in passing that the older guys and younger guys don't seem interested, and I had to laugh because just the night prior, I'd been telling these same two guys I've been talking about that I often refrain from engaging with younger guys at the firesides or other social events because I feel like the uninteresting older guy.

I can't help but think, when talking or hanging out with some of the younger guys, that at least part of them is thinking, "Dude, let's not make this too long 'cause there are a dozen guys I could be spending time with who are younger, hotter, more flirtatious and likely to lead somewhere, and more fun than you, but you seem like a nice enough guy, so I'll give you a moment." Perhaps that's my own projection because part of me has thought that way, which I figure is only human, even if not entirely admirable. And of course, for a lot of these guys, a moment is all I want, anyway. Just touching base, a friendly hello, and we're on our way. But there may be, for example, an interesting-seeming guy who I'd like to get to know better, but who is, say, in his early twenties (read "much younger than me"), new to the moho thing (which makes me think I should stand back so he can befriend more "faithful" guys), and already knows I'm open to getting to know him (let's pretend I've let him know so in e-mails but left the ball in his court because I don't want to pressure him), and I don't want to keep talking to someone who seemingly has some reason for not pursuing communication with me because the last thing I want is to be the creepy older guy who won't leave someone alone. :-)

So what's the result? I'll say hello to him, refrain from the hug I wanted to give, maybe ask a benign question or two, try to read his response and see if there's any more openness than last time or if he'll invite more conversation or seems to at least want to, and finally decide to move on and maybe come back to him later if the opportunity presents itself because I'm not sure how to read him and don't want to force myself or take up time he could spend talking with the people he'd rather be talking to. Slightly awkward, maybe, but worth it for the possibility of having a good chat sometime and letting him know I'm still open to it if/when he's ever ready. And yet I wonder: what does this look like from his side? What interpretations does he have, while I'm wondering how to interpret him?

I'm left wondering, in such a case, if he really just is less interested in getting to know each other any better on a personal level than I am (as I discussed with my friend), or if he's generally wary except with a few chosen people of whom I'm not a part, or if he's secretly afraid his inner beast will try to rip my clothes off and doesn't want to deal with that conflict, or if he's heard some kind of rumor about me which makes him cautious, or if my lack of "testimony" makes me a non-candidate for friendship, or if I'm just too old to befriend, or if he just plain thinks I'm boring, or if he is disgusted by acne-prone people, or if he is interested in chatting more but just doesn't know how to let me know it's OK to talk to him, or if my breath offends him, or if he's afraid I'll crush on him, or if I remind him of his elementary school bully, or...funny how many scenarios one can come up with to interpret signals, isn't it?

Fortunately, I've had several years to learn not to let myself get carried away with this stuff. When things just "don't seem to work" with someone or with a group of people, I've learned not to try to figure it out too much or to tell myself negative stories because you just never know quite what's going on with someone else. Any more, I tend to shrug, hope for better in the future, try to let them know I'm open, or just move on and let it go and let the cards fall where they may. I've tried the "blame myself" or "blame them" thing, and it's not healthy either way. I've tried the "push for an explanation" thing, and it can create unnecessary friction or defensiveness completely unnecessarily and unjustifiably. I've tried the "withdraw and retreat" thing, and it leaves me feeling hopeless and disconnected. Anymore, I generally try the "check in and set the invitation out there and then move on without any expectation of response" thing, an important component of which is to stop checking in after two or three non-responses, and I'm finding that to work best for me.

This way, the connections are just open enough that somewhere down the road, whether or not we ever become close friends, a few of those connections might just end up with us sitting together with friends and chatting until 2:30 in the morning about deep things and stupid things and learning from each other and laughing about how long we awkwardly passed each other up.

Moho Friendship Encyclopedia, Volume 1

I've noticed a lot of posts lately about friendships between gay/SSA/heterosexually-challenged folk. Several months ago, I started a post about the joys and conundrums of gay friendship which I have yet to go back and expound on. In the meantime, though, I figured I'd go through my blog and compile a list of posts on issues around moho friendship and romance in case anyone wishes to go back and read some. I've added a label (I'm very slowly working on back-labeling my posts and making "labels" useful for finding old posts on certain themes) called "Moho Friendship Issues" which I'll apply to each of those posts and any going forward.




About wanting that one best friend:
The Perfect Friend - 9 Dec 2007
About the longing to find an all-fulfilling friendship, a "best friend" who is everything and totally trusted and always available...




Questions around the blurred line between friendship and romance or sexuality:
Homophysicality - 31 July 2007
Exploring the distinction between passion and affection, and maintaining appropriate boundaries.

The Flesh is Willing But the Spirit is Appalled - 13 Jul 2009
Does physiological arousal mean you're on the brink of sin?

Heading It Off - 22 March 2008
Avoiding regret by averting temptation before it becomes overwhelming.

Keeping It Real - 9 Jun 2008
A personal example of how having made decisions ahead of time helped deal with an enticing opportunity.

To Whore or Not to Whore - 6 Feb 2008
Questioning what to do when desire for physical affection and passion is strong, and whether being a lip-whore is really not an option.

Why Be Friends When You Can Just Have Sex? - 29 Apr 2008
Reiterating my lack of interest in physical intimacy without emotional intimacy, in response to a silly "late night" question in a group of friends.



Crushing:
I've Got a Crush On You - 22 Oct 2009
Whether to tell a crushee about your feelings, hide them, or run away from the person.

Different Little Black Book - 15 Sep 2009
Secretly noting the guys I've crushed on as potentials if we both ever decided to date guys.

Desire Assuaged By Familiarity - 1 Jul 2007
The phenomenon known as "demystification": the loss of the fantasy you build around someone attractive by them becoming a "real person" as you get to know them.

Many Mohos (and Homos) In Mormonville - 19 Jul 2007
Recognizing how many gay/SSA LDS folks there are here and realizing they, not the out-and-proud ones, are the dangerous ones for me, the ones I tend to crush on.




When friendship turns into romance, and "breaking up":
Romance 101, Preface - 13 Mar 2008
Examples of a few romantic relationships and what I learned from the very distinct experiences they were.

Love and Longing in a Lovesac - 15 Oct 2009
The story of one good friend I fell for and let go because I couldn't reconcile my feelings for him.

I Liked You, You Putz - 3 Sep 2008
About a dream I had in which a formerly romantic friend and I almost rekindled what I originally thought we had...then waking up.




Kid in a candy store syndrome (or gay adolescence):
Hypersexual Stint - 22 Feb 2009
About my gay adolescence or uber-flirtatious time after beginning to meet more mohos.

Feeling Real at the Matises' - 8 Jan 2008
Coming off the fantasy and selfish flirtation into a more grounded place, socially.

Many Mohos (and Homos) In Mormonville - 19 Jul 2007
Recognizing how many gay/SSA LDS folks there are here and realizing they, not the out-and-proud ones, are the dangerous ones for me.

Lacking Intimacy Among the Mohos - 1 Jun 2007
Realizing my friendships had taken on a sort of "heaping mohos unto myself" trend, which wasn't conducive to true intimacy in friendships.




Other challenges I've encountered in moho friendships:
Whom To Trust? - 31 May 2008
The tentative caution of one who is initially coming to terms with his/her homosexuality and whether friendships with other mohos are "safe".

Looking Around Dismayed, Trying to Look Inward - 8 Jun 2008
Noticing unseemly behavior around me and trying not to be judgemental about it but learning from it.

Lacking Intimacy Among the Mohos - 1 Jun 2007
Realizing my friendships had taken on a sort of "heaping mohos unto myself" trend, which wasn't conducive to true intimacy in friendships.

Nobody's Bulletproof - 7 Sep 2007
Experience of briefly understanding how some people get into trouble by jumping into connections based on physical attraction; wondering how things might have gone differently had I not already made certain decisions...

Is It Really Just About Sex? - 23 Jan 2008
Responding to a friend's question about homosexuality seeming primarily physical.




Friendship insecurities I have heard more than once:
Why Do People Like Me? - 18 Oct 2007
Wondering if people ever like me for me, or whether most friendships are mutually selfish.




Misc thoughts on friendship and relationships in general:
Living Love - 13 Jan 2008
Questioning what it means to "love".

Marriage, Manlove, or Misery - 1 Aug 2007
Rejecting the false dichotomies that you must either marry a woman, or find a same-sex partner, or be miserable.

Regaining Perspective in a Lovesac - 15 Nov 2007
A conversation with a female friend about meaningful relationships and the slap upside the head it gave me.

Thank Goodness for the Discomfort of Friends - 2 Jan 2008
What friendship means to me: not someone to stroke my ego but someone to help me be better.

No Safe Investment - 11 Feb 2008
If a relationship is to be worth it, some investment and risk and vulnerability will be required.

Conflict, Integrity, and Ownership - 25 Aug 2007
Dealing with inner conflict through trying to maintain integrity and owning the decisions which are mine to make.

Coping With Scrapping Celibacy - 21 Feb 2009
Dealing with difficult feelings in reaction to seeing friends go from "celibate" to "sexually active" almost recklessly, and trying to figure out where the frustration comes from.

I've Got a Crush on You

Apparently, I'm sort of emotionally available in a way I haven't been for some time because I've been having multiple mini-crushes again, which hasn't happened in quite some time. Granted, they're just mini crushes, and none are even remotely entertainable as anything more *sigh*. But gay friendships have such...interesting dynamics (that's another draft topic I've never finished).



Scenario: you're a gay/SSA LDS guy, and you meet another gay/SSA LDS guy. You hit it off, conversation is good, he's attractive, funny, intelligent, has good taste, seems like a genuinely good and nice person, and...crap, you're crushing a little bit, and you suspect he may be crushing back a little.

Between mohos, it's sometimes a bit problematic. Crushing on a straight guy is much simpler: he's not going to return the attraction, so nothing is going to happen even if you do start crushing a little harder, and there's not much point in telling him about your crush because what's he supposed to do about it? Or in most cases of two gay men meeting and crushing, dating is an option for them. While that obviously requires some navigation, it's more typical of what happens when someone's interested in someone else. But when it's two gay guys who are LDS or otherwise not wanting a relationship or even hanky panky, what are you supposed to do with that? Do you tell him you're crushing on him or keep it to yourself? Or do you just avoid him altogether?



Option 1: Keep it secret, keep it safe. If it can't go anywhere anyway, or you're both trying to be "good" and not date guys or mess around, then what's the point in telling him you're crushing and making things potentially awkward? Why not just maintain the friendship, secretly crush, and not speak of it so as to not make a mountain out of a molehill?

Hopeful outcome of option 1: You remain friends, and nothing questionable ever happens because neither person has really admitted a crush, so nobody feels free to make a move that would get you both in trouble. The friendship continues blissful and crushy, and you become besties for life. Or at the very least, the friendship hasn't been made unnecessarily awkward or stifled by worries around what might be a passing crush.

Hazards of option 1: Let's be honest, how long can two guys crush on each other without them realizing it and opening up avenues of...affectionate expression crossing over into sexual? Really? And how likely is it that neither one will ever crush on someone else, leaving the other feeling dejected and hurt? Not talking about a crush isn't going to make it magically dissolve, and some pitfalls could be avoided by both parties being open and setting bounds. Also, I see SO many guys waltzing around their wards, the blogosphere, and support groups claiming to be good LDS boys who want to marry a girl but, in all of their denial, getting more stud action than any girl in their ward. In such cases, often nobody's calling a spade a spade because they just try to sweep everything under the rug rather than openly discussing it and owning up to what's really going on.



Option 2: Tell him. Just lay all the cards on the table. It can come in various forms. If he cuddles in, tell him cuddling can't happen because you're "not sure if you can maintain appropriate boundaries" (code for "I'm likely to jump you if you come any closer, you sexy beast you"). Another way is to flirt openly and shamelessly, exaggerating the crush into a comical parody of itself. Or you can simply say, "I have a crush on you," and maybe enumerate what measures you are going to take to guard against letting the crush get the two of you into a situation you don't really want.

Hopeful outcome of option 2: Communication is opened, and with all the cards on the table, you can openly admit you're crushing on each other, openly discuss that it can't go anywhere, and decide what boundaries are going to be necessary to keep situations benign, emotions in check, and hands out of places they shouldn't be. The friendship continues, and if someone begins to crush on someone else, you've been open all along and are discussing this and responding accordingly.

Hazards of option 2: Sometimes you think you're communicating and have things under control, but there are still misunderstandings and emotions out of control (I mean, did you read my little Lovesac story?). No guarantees. At worst, the openness is taken advantage of by whoever believes he has the upper hand, and he deliberately toys with the other's emotions and uses his affections. Besides, it is possible to talk a relationship to death or make things unnecessarily awkward.



Option 3: Turn tail and run! Don't even bother. If you're not going to pursue anything, and it's obvious that mutual attraction is a likelihood, and you're crushing, don't fool yourself into thinking you can "make it work". You can't. It's like Harry says in When Harry Met Sally, a gay man and another gay man can't be friends. Well, OK, so that's like the When Harry Met Sal version, but you get the picture. Sure, you might have this lingering crush and never "demystify" the object of it, but in these cases, it's best to leave well enough alone. Just don't even play with fire. It can only end in tears. It's all fun and games until somebody has to see the bishop.

Hopeful outcome of option 3: You're safe. No risk, no pain, no confusion. The crush wanes, you move on, and there's no friendship lost or made awkward because you never began one. No messy emotions, no boundaries crossed. You move on without regret.

Hazards of option 3: You wonder what friendship you could have had, whether you made too big a deal out of it and it would have passed, but you'll never know because you chose the comfort of safety over investing in a potentially beautiful friendship. You push people away whenever there's a hint of possible romantic or sexual interest, and it becomes a pattern of isolating yourself from people who could provide a lot of support and love, and you never learn to really deal with the complexities of relationships, so you're more likely to be caught off guard when a situation sneaks up on you.



I think different situations may call for different responses. I've tried all of the above, with varying results. Perhaps it's an art I'm still just beginning to learn. But I have to say, I probably most prefer and have most used option 2. I've been described as "forward", which is funny since I typically end up being all talk. I guess it's my way of defusing tension. It's frank, it's open, it allows for the friendship to develop with fewer walls of doubt or ambiguity. It's certainly not foolproof, nor is it guaranteed to save you from heartache, but it just feels right to me most of the time. ...but timing matters, too. I've decided to try not expressing my crushness until I know someone better, then reassess if the crush still exists after I've gotten to know them, if I get to know them. Sometimes, I enjoy the quirks of moho life.

Lovesac Epilogue

I've decided to briefly ("brief" being a relative term) describe the aftermath of Love and Longing in a Lovesac.

A lot happened after that, with a roller coaster of alternating acceptance and bitterness. I wasn't able to fully let go as I'd hoped while we were spending time together still. My love for him seemed to become bitter to our friendship as I watched him enmesh even more with his other friend while I tried to carry on as the same old friend I'd been. I didn't always succeed. I'd still try to push a "friend" boundary or two here and there, and I'd feel stupid afterwards, like I was making some desperate attempt to show him he should have chosen me or entice him into wanting me as more than a friend. But I knew that wouldn't work, nor did I want it to. My brain fought my emotions. I’d tell myself, "I must be able to do it. I'm strong. I can reason with my emotions. They don't control me." And yet all that mental exertion seemed to do was deaden and numb the tenderness I had felt in an effort to not care whether or how it was returned. I then unintentionally tried to counteract the numbness by holding on to the pain.

It's a funny thing the psyche does. When you've felt so deeply for someone, when you've felt such tenderness, and you can't hold on to the love as you had hoped to, the next best reminder of that tenderness is to hold on to the kind of pain that can only come from such love. It's not healthy, but I think it's what I did. A line of a Weepies' song suddenly made sense one day: "I keep pushing the bruise 'cause I don't wanna lose what I loved about you." I wasn't letting go. Not really. Not as long as I held on to the pain, which I couldn't seem to help, because letting the pain go meant letting the care go, and letting the care go felt like letting the relationship go, which would waste all the emotional effort and energy I'd already spent to stay in it. But the more I tried to "get over it" and maintain the friendship, the more the emotional wound hurt and festered, being reopened each time I spent time with him.

I decided that, rather than remain in what seemed like a toxic, withering version of what I once regarded as a beautiful friendship, it was necessary to make a clean break and let the cards fall where they may later. This was one of the hardest decisions I'd made in a long time. I had been afraid to do so because it might end the friendship and because I would then surely lose him to his other friend. But that had surely happened anyway in the romantic sense, and the friendship was, to me, already not what it had been and consequently not what I wanted to hold on to. Though he told me he was fine with how things were, and nothing had changed for him, that was no comfort but rather a reminder of the non-returned feelings. It was too different for me, and I accepted that I probably wasn't going to be able to buck up and deal with it. So I called for a complete break, admittedly required by my own weakness.

The break was painful but essential. We've since moved on, not in touch much anymore. Now, with that distance and with the detachment I've gone through, the feelings I felt on that wintery Sunday are hazy, almost like they were for someone who no longer exists except in my memory. Strange how that works. I'll chalk it up to my own perceptions and rose-colored memories. I care about him and hope he's happy. Maybe that's just what my brain tells me to make "sacrificing" the friendship worth it, like a defense mechanism that tells me what I went through was only worth the pain if it ends with everyone being happy. Could it be that? I don't know. What I do know is that I care about him and can't just throw that away. I imagine I will always care about him and even love him in some way. I don’t know if I could just stop loving someone like that. I have stopped feeling affection for certain people for whom I used to, but even though the relationship itself may necessarily end or change drastically, to simply stop loving someone in the sense of caring about their welfare and happiness is not something I aspire to.

I'm OK with it now. I feel pretty resolved. Writing about this doesn't elicit the emotions it used to. It's been a process getting here, though. Occasionally as the thoughts and emotions around that relationship resolved, in moments when old feelings have begun creeping back in, I'd remember that moment in the Lovesac, and the pivotal perspective, and the motivations, and that intense love I felt, and didn't need to understand it all but just let it remind me of what induced some emotional craziness in me and of how sweetly I once felt, and I was able to let go a little more.