New Appreciation for Signing

Thanks to you-know-who-you-are for posting this on you-know-who-else's Facebook wall.

You can turn on captions to see the direct ASL translation.

And the only time I can patiently listen to this whole song:



OK, so he's not necessarily "hot", and his large volume of videos hints at a possibly unusually narcissistic streak, but I'm kind of a sucker for the dorky, cute silliness. Something tells me we wouldn't make a good couple (assuming he were gay and available and I were emotionally available...), but I'll enjoy watching him and pinching his cheeks from afar. Him and good ol' Matthew. Oh, cute.

Laying Down the Law: Delay Cuddling

It's decided: absolutely no cuddling of any kind (or, for that matter, hand-holding, which to me is more intimate, or kissing beyond maybe a peck goodnight after a couple of dates) until I've hung out with or gone on dates with someone at least four times prior. If I'm still interested in developing a friendship or relationship with someone after that many times with no real physical affection, I can be fairly confident the relationship (friendship) is probably off to a genuine start, and I've had time to assess what kind of relationship/friendship I'm interested in without muddying things with sexuality or creating false intimacy or a misleading sense of harmony born of physical affection. And no, I'm not interested in sexual gratification without a relationship, so that doesn't apply to me. And I've also had time, by then, to figure out whether we have enough of a "real" connection to merit the trust and affection of physical intimacy, or whether I'm just horny or needy at the time. That's not to say I can't spend a whole evening with someone and form a connection that would merit some (basic) physical affection, but waiting lets me really assess with a clearer head, I think.

And let's be honest: if someone is still interested in hanging out with me after at least four times of little hope of getting any action, even in the form of cuddling, that's an indicator that they probably are genuinely interested in me as a person. Of course, some are remarkably patient, so it would also depend on how often we hang out, how persistent they seem, whether I'm feelin' it, etc. And it could backfire: I might unintentionally send the message that I'm not a physically affectionate person, which I really, really am in certain friendships and in romantic relationships. But I'm not very concerned about that.

Ugh...I'm not big on hard-and-fast rules, but sometimes, you've gotta just draw a line somewhere to keep yourself reminded and level-headed. I'd kind of made this rule for myself loosely but have fudged it...and I've never looked back and thought fudging it was a wise decision. Not once. Maybe I'm learning. This rule is now firm. ...er.

Reminder to Self: No Mo' Mohos

I need to stop getting to know mohos, particularly the newbies. I'm in a different place than almost all of them and have no interest in pretending otherwise, the new ones are way too volatile, I don't have the energy to break through their judgments or deal with their detachment when they realize I'm not kidding about my agnosticism or they rekindle their "testimony" and no longer need an understanding ear or shoulder for their passing phase, and becoming attracted to the occasional one who flirts back is seriously an exercise in futility, self-deception and sure heartache.

I will keep ties with those I already know. They've become friends for a reason, and I'll keep the opportunity to have them accept or reject me despite or because of my beliefs, traits, whatever, as I do with them. I love even those mohomies and mohoneys with whom I've fallen out or experienced detachment, and I appreciate their friendship and care about them, but I don't have the energy to be someone's shiny new toy they act all excited about and become enamored with at first, only to lose interest once they've examined it thoroughly and the honeymoon has worn off. I thought I did again, but I don't. Obviously, some of this is to be expected in any relationship, but it's somehow magnified for me in mohodom. Will I purposely reject friendships that have potential? Probably not. I don't think I have it in me. And not all mohos are equal: many are quite understanding and loving. But will I severely limit the interaction I have with conservatively LDS gay boys? Definitely, especially the newly-coming-to-terms ones. I need to be more strict about keeping my distance.

If I am starting to spend time with a moho I've admitted to finding attractive, stop me: it won't end well. If I'm hanging out with conservatively LDS folks, hit me over the head before they have a chance to disappoint my expectations of them seeing past my apostasy into who I am at heart and what I have to offer as a person, regardless of my beliefs. Remind me where it will surely lead: to them detaching before I do, despite still caring about me and wanting to talk occasionally, and considering me a spiritual detriment to themselves, their goals of eternal marriage, and their social circle even while I'm still attached and mostly overlooking their perspectives I consider largely flawed and destructive because I see qualities in them I love and respect. Make me sober up and take a month's vacation from them.

I can't keep doing this. I'm really feeling a drive to leave Utah and Idaho (and every conservatively LDS place) and stop trying to reconcile and find harmony beyond what I've done with those who were already my friends. I know it's an emotional reaction right now, and it'll pass, but I'm not sure it should. There's a lot I like about many conservative places: down-to-earth and humble people, appreciation of simple pleasures and happiness money can't buy, "clean living", family orientation, and others. But those qualities, not necessarily the places themselves, are what I like, and I can find those things in other places; they're not traits monopolized by conservative, small LDS towns in Utah and Idaho.

I'm tired of being perceived as the pitiful fallen former-stalwart whom people I love and enjoy "care about" but with whom they don't necessarily feel comfortable or at ease anymore, not necessarily because of my behavior, demeanor, or personality, but because of my beliefs, which I have to admit is pretty understandable (I don't care if my neighbors act like model citizens: if I know they're KKK members, I'm not going to find it easy to interact with them). I'm tired of trying to ignore people's emotional distance and withdrawal and not interpret them as signs that all they see when they interact with me is their friend or loved one who "used to believe and has obviously become spiritually lazy or sinful enough to lose his testimony". Even if they eventually come around, I'm not convinced it's worth it. Let them find another punching bag for their self-righteous judgment on their way to learning what I think is a more Christlike discipleship or eventually going off the deep end in grand fashion.

Some would say this is the torment of a guilty conscience. They don't have any idea. I have to shrug and let them think that. But I am admittedly speaking out of pain. Pain of knowing that, to some I thought of as friends, I lose most or much of my worth to them once they realize I've "lost the faith". Yet I have trouble blaming them because I've been there: I've looked at others that exact way. And I must admit I may be projecting my past perceptions onto some, but a few have frankly confirmed to me that's exactly what they think, after some pressing from me. But I can't take it back because it's the most honest I've been about my beliefs in a long time, and to pretend I want faith in LDS doctrine back would be a lie to please them or make my life easier.

And yes, I do know I have friends and family who are more successful at seeing past my faithlessness to who I am beyond religious doctrines, and I'm thankful for that.

I'm just...tired. I'm going to go take a nap.

I Don't Wanna Be a Lesson

I saw a preview for MTV's The Real World in which a young Christian gay/bi guy who is sort of (kind of) newly exploring gay relationships (though he apparently left a boyfriend to join the show, so I just don't know what's so new about it) was "hanging out" with another gay guy with whom he'd been making out, but he didn't want a "relationship" because he was still exploring what he wanted, so he told the other guy something like, "It's only been a few weeks. Can't we just be friends? I like spending time with you and I want to learn from you..." The other guy replied, "I don't wanna be a lesson!" I laughed to myself with a silent amen.

This Christian gay/bi/"don't-force-your-labels-on-me" guy seems to have a sort of fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants attitude which sounds attractive on the surface and with which I actually agree in some ways (e.g. not getting overly hung up on culturally constructed labels). And I fully acknowledge I don't really know his perspective except that which editors decide should be on the show and what he's said in an interview, so I may be unfairly correlating him with my own past experience and observation. And he seems like a sweet guy who could be fun to know. But the kind of approach he seems to espouse, in my experience, often leads people (especially those as young as he is--he's 22) to live with a certain disregard for the emotional consequences of their situationally reactive behavior on others with whom they didn't confirm a mutual understanding. Glossing over such consequences frees them up to get what they want out of the relationship and blame the other person's hurt on their being too restrictive and small-minded. ...no, I've never been bitter about this, why do you ask? ;-) Actually, I've observed this more than I've experienced it.

Anyway, he seemed mildly baffled by the other guy's response, but I think eventually, most people will end up in a position in which they'll understand where he was coming from. Potentially uneven interest or emotional investment, mixed with the vague knowledge that this is someone's "stepping stone" relationship, can make for some messiness. But more than that, there's just something that feels kind of toolish about knowing someone regards you as a sort of "coming out" tutor to use until they feel secure enough to go out and look for a "real" relationship, all while enjoying and pushing for physical affection benefits that most people reserve for relationships of the not-just-friendship variety, when you already know that, if they weren't so new and volatile, you'd probably have been interested in a "real" relationship all along...hard to describe maybe, but it's just awkward and feels cheap to be on that side of it.

Of course, in many respects, I probably still am that new guy, so if I were to actually start really dating, I suppose I should expect a stepping stone relationship or two along the way. Hm, so mental note: don't fall for the best ones first...wait, that's just messed up. Ha, perhaps it's best to just play that part by ear and sort of deal with it as it comes. Thankfully, I have other things to worry about for now. I can put off that complicated dating stuff. How convenient...

A "Say What?" Marriage

There's a question I've been curious about for a very long time: if a gay man and a gay woman get married, would you still call that a "mixed orientation" marriage? Or might you just call it "doomed"? ;-)





Note in response to comments: despite my cheekiness and what many people do believe about them, I don't believe they're doomed and didn't intend for this post to be any kind of assault. See comments for more info and a link to a blog by such a couple.

Needing a Blogolaxative

I have so many drafts started. So much to say. Yet I've been focusing on other things, and blogging has shifted downward in priority. There's so much about what I'm going through and thinking and observing that I want to share, to see if others have observed or experienced the same, to let someone know they're not the only one thinking it, or to simply provoke questions and conversation, possibly to help me clarify my own perspective.

Yet I refrain from publishing because they're too rough, don't yet accurately portray my complete thoughts, come across as overly pert, or simply aren't thought through or articulated completely, and I just don't want to blurt it all out then have to clarify and re-clarify...that's just too demanding on my attention and time. So now I'm all backed up, having all these thoughts bunching up and compounding together, and I'm wondering how I'll ever catch my posts up with this rolling snowball of thoughts and just scrapping it for now because I'm too busy to try. Blogger constipation's a bear.