But my whole life, I have spent too much time living in fear of what others might think of me. In my early twenties, I really did live a double life. I had "church friends" who were all gay, Christian, well adjusted, not hung up about damnation for living as a gay man or lesbian woman. And part of me was that person too. But then I had another side of myself, the guy who went to the bars most nights of the week, and when they closed, I went to the bathhouses in Indianapolis and had anonymous sex with men. I drank to excess, to vomiting, to blacking out. I did drugs. The people I hung out with were pretty much the same: bars, sex, drinking--just existing. I kept this part of my life hidden from most of the people I knew outside this life, with the exception of my best friend, Ken. God love him, he was right there with me in a lot of these situations!
When I was 26, I finally graduated from college after taking the eight-year plan to the extreme. I had a graduation party. I was pretty drunk that night but in the midst of it all, I was aware of a very surreal feeling--seeing so many very distinct groups of people that I considered "friends" all over the house (for some reason, my parents let me have the party at their house). My wild, drunken bar friends were outside on the patio. Someone found a college fraternity paddle in our house (I am pretty sure it was in a grab box at an auction my parents went to--they likely got the whole box of stuff for $1.00, when my mom probably just wanted one thing in the box!) People were hooting and hollering as they got bare bottom spankings. I have a photo of myself sitting in the lap of a particular leather daddy I had a crush on at the time, David. He had chaps on with boots and a leather vest. I was a skinny thing in my own leather vest and combat boots. My friends and I referred to ourselves during that period at "The Leatherettes." Pretty true statement. The leather for me at that time was more of a way to explore and assert my masculinity....trying out different personas, trying to discover who Drew really was. I was the master for a while, and the slave for a while. I toyed with S&M a little bit. It all scared the hell out of me and for the most part, it wasn't really as much about me being adventurous as it was being curious to try stuff out and find out if it clicked for me and could be integrated into who I was (or as it says in the book, "Conversations with God," Who I Am and Who I Am Meant To Be.)
But again, I digress. I was struck how my wild friends were outside, and just inside the patio door sat a group of my church friends. My college friends were gathered in the kitchen and I was oblivious to people's reactions when a leather daddy in full leather drag came inside to use the bathroom and had to cut through the family room and kitchen to reach the guest bathroom. I know this is true of other gay men based on my readings and my own experiences, but I have felt like a chameleon my whole life, from preschool Drew, to grade school, high school, college and adulthood. I could hang out with any group and blend in. I was an expert at instantly adopting the language, customs, values of any group I was in and could be accepted quickly as part of the group. In high school, I started smoking and drank with the druggie kids. I was in gifted academic programs and hung out with the smart kids, the girls who all looked and acted exactly like Tracy Flick in the movie, "Election." I was in drama club, key club, speech team. And I floated among disparate groups of people with ease.
When I came out at age 17, I started going out to the gay bars in Indianapolis, first hanging out on Monument Circle in downtown Indianapolis on the north steps, informally reserved for the gays who were cruising and hanging out. I remember one of my friends, Patrick, picked up a guy and was going to have sex with him at Union Station, before it was refurbished in the early nineties. It was a dump then and I followed him with a another guy in tow. Patrick and his friend climbed up some rickety stairs to get to a second level that was once the sleeping quarters for the train conductors and operators. For Patrick, it was a dark secluded place to suck someone off. I was waiting for Patrick with this guy I didn't know. I remember he was simply the most beautiful man I had ever met in my life. His name I am not so sure of....Steven Jones? I am pretty sure his last name was Jones. I still have the piece of paper that he wrote his telephone number on and gave to me. It was an awkward time waiting there. I wanted to kiss him but felt inferior to him. He was probably in his twenties, and looked a lot like Scott Baio--I swear! But smaller and skinnier. In my way of thinking, he was an adult and I was a child, a gangly, goofy looking child with frizzy dishwater hair. My striped Generra pants were a hair too short on my 34 inch legs. My arms were about as big around as my wrist is today. Patrick finally finished upstairs and we went back to the "Circle." I never got kissed and I never called the man.
How about a photo to break up this text? We are about 1/3 of the way through! I found this photo of Scott Baio on Flickr.com and this is how I remember that Steven Jones looked liked. I just learned that Scott lost his virginity to his "Joanie Loves Chachi" costar, Erin Moran. I hate her even more now that I know this.
That was such an awkward period in my life. I was so painfully shy and wouldn't talk to anyone. I felt like a sponge, just soaking up everything that was happening around me. I didn't understand why men called each other "girl." I couldn't seem to adopt the mannerisms that others had. I lacked the confidence my friends seemed to have. Where I ended up was as a messed-up kid trying to be everything to everybody. I feel like I lost my true self during that time and thought I had to act a certain way to be gay and be accepted. Honestly, I had never been all that interested in having sex with men. I remmember as a teenager that I just wanted to kiss and hug a man--that was my fantasy I held onto into adulthood. I had no concept of what sex with a man entailed. Most of the time, I just laid perfectly still, let a man do whatever he wanted to do to me, then I would reciprocate. There was never any feeling, never any passion. It was a mechanical act. I became a therapy junkie in my twenties, spending most of the time in therapy with a total of about four different counselors. I would bring up to them that I worried why I was never able to orgasm when I was with a man. Since this was the heyday of HMOs, they never really wanted to delve too deeply into this issue. Their answer was always the same, "When you meet someone that you trust and are comfortable with, I'm sure the problem will work itself out." One therapist gave me a little bit more insight, "If you sleep with strangers, how do you think you'll ever feel comfortable enough with them to reach orgasm? I think you hold back a piece of yourself from all these people, and you objectify that holding back by not being able to ejaculate in front of them." That made a hell of a lot of sense.
My problem has always been that I obtained great insight into myself and my behaviors but was never able to translate this insight into change. I kept doing the same things over and over again, kept choosing the same type of man to date and have sex with. And I remained dissatified with my life. Hmmm, I am thinking about this post, finally. It's a long one. Why did I start it? Okay, faith by fire. Being able to be myself no matter what. Today is Easter and reading over this post, I seem to be telling you about my own Resurrection. I was going to start telling you about the book I read in 1996, "Keeping the Love You Find" by Harville Hendrix. I believe this one book finally allowed me to put the pieces togther, take all that insight and put it to good use. I firmly believe had I not found this book, then entered a therapy model based on this book's teachings, I would never have met Reed. He is the embodiment of much of my learning over the past 12 years since reading that book for the first time.
But I think I have really rambled on long enough. Don't worry, I like to ramble, and I feel safer opening up in this blog. That was another point I made earlier in this post, that only a couple of people know about this blog. Reed asked me how I am going to get the word out about it. I hadn't really wanted other people to know about it, truly. But I think that comes from not wanting people to really know me. When I wrote the Sugar Babies entry, I thought, "Well, I can't send this to any male work friends or any straight guys I know from church or other groups I am in. They would be constantly freaked out about it--is he staring at me, is he thinking about having sex with me?!?" And I thought about some of my other friends, "Oh, she'd freak out if she read this blog. She thinks I am so nice and decent and well-adjusted." And therein lies the problem. I always feel like, even today, that I have to keep up a facade of some type: consumate professional; sweet, nice guy; good, dutiful son; moral, upstanding citizen.
I am all those things, and I am none of those things. Sometimes I want to scream at people I work with and fear it could come out at any moment; I scream at people in traffic, I roll my eyes and mutter like a crazy old man at stupid people at the grocery store who try to maneuver their shopping carts while holding a cell phone to their ear; I want to move far away from Indiana with Reed NEXT WEEK and find a job and new friends and not think about taking care of my parents when they need me most; I still run most every man I meet through a filter where I evaluate him physically and sexually; everyday, I have to tell myself how lucky I am to have Reed, that I would never do anything to hurt him or risk our relationship and the trust he has in me.
I want this last part, especially, to be easier and I beat myself up for why it is so difficult for me. This may very well be its own post. For those of you who watched the television show, Six Feet Under, do you remember the character of Nate's girlfriend, played by Rachel Griffiths? In one episode, she is giving a massage to a man (that's her business, being a massage thearpist), and the man gets an erection and says something about "taking care of it." She proceeds to give him a hand job until he orgasms. Then she just wipes her hand and dismisses him. For me, that was one of the most powerful moments in television and a moment I could relate to so much. I was not with Reed at the time, but I remember having such empathy for the character. She finally got a decent relationship with a man who supported her idiosyncracies and accepted her past, and she fucks it up. Why did she do that?? Why do any of us fuck up the good things in our lives? A great job and you start missing work or deadlines. A great friend and you betray a confidence. A great apartment and you stop paying the rent and get yourself evicted, even though you have plenty of money to pay the rent. I think this is a very powerful topic that should be explored in more depth and I welcome your comments about it.
God, I am getting tired of writing so much. And I want to watch one of the marathon episodes of America's Next Top Model with Reed, and find out if Natasha finally gets her thick-lipped, moon-faced, unibrowed Russian ass kicked off the show.
So I need to write a conclusion that is a few words less than what I have written so far. Oh, and I still have to paste in the damn email that sparked all this revelation tonight. Okay the email is just below. You can read it now or later, but I am going to refer to it now. I guess I felt the strong need to "stand up" for what I believe in. People are afraid to evangelize to people about their faith in God and/or Jesus. People are really afraid to tell people who they really are. To show their complete selves to those around them. If my mom were to read this post, at this point she'd say, "Yes, but why do YOU have to be the one to tell God and everyone who the hell you are??" You know, I have had many experiences in my life where I have shared painful, hidden things about myself only to discover others in the room shared my experiences.
I think any time, any of us feels compelled to share a part of ourselves with one person or a group of people--or for that matter, with the blogosphere!--the reason is becusae the Holy Spirit is calling them to do so. By doing so, they have a chance to make a difference in this world, to let people know that what they feel is normal, that what they are going through is normal and part of the greater human expeirence--after all, look at me! I went through this too.
I am still trying to figure out my place in the world. Damn that Oprah, she is making it so difficult to just coast through life. Now, I have think about "What was I put here to do? What is my purpose in life? How can I fulfill that purpose?" Fuck you, Oprah Winfrey! I for one happened to like being in the dark! I liked being purposeless and wandering. Of COURSE, I am kidding. But I don't see myself writing a book that will get named to Oprah's book club. But I suppose in this blog I am working through some of my issues, trying to figure out what this blog is supposed to be for, what should it achieve. I think I just have to respect my relationship with Reed--respect Reed, period. And not share intimate details of my relationship with Reed in order to make a point. Reed is very private, and I have the feeling his preference would be for me not to post some of the intimate details about my own life in this blog. I hope he understands that part of the reason for this blog may very well be for me to have the effect on the world that I feel called to have.
>>
This is a true story of something that happened just a
few years ago at USC.
There was a professor of philosophy there who was a
deeply committed atheist.
His primary goal for one required class was to spend
the entire semester to prove that God couldn't exist.
His students were always afraid to argue with him
because of his impeccable logic.
Sure, some had argued in class at times, but no one had
ever really gone against him because of his reputation.
At the end of every semester on the last day, he would
say to his class of 300 students, 'If there is anyone here who still
believes in Jesus, stand up!'
In twenty years, no one had ever stood up. They knew
what he was going to do next. He would say, 'Because anyone who
believes in God is a fool'.
If God existed, he could stop this piece of chalk from
hitting the ground and breaking Such a simple task to prove that He is
God, and yet He can't do it.'
And every year, he would drop the chalk onto the tile
floor of the classroom and it would shatter into a hundred pieces.
All of the students would do nothing but stop and
stare.
Most of the students thought that God couldn't exist.
Certainly, a number of Christians had slipped through, but! For 20
years, they had been too afraid to stand up.
Well, a few years ago there was a freshman who happened
to enroll.
He was a Christian, and had heard the stories about his
professor.
He was required to take the class for his major, and he
was afraid. But for three months that semester, he prayed every morning
that he would have the courage to stand up no matter what the professor
said, or what the class thought.
Nothing they said could ever shatter his faith...he
hoped.
Finally, the day came. ! The professor said, 'If there
is anyone here who still believes in God, stand up!' The professor and
the class of 300 people looked at him, shocked, as he stood up at the
back of the classroom.
The professor shouted, 'You FOOL!!!
If God existed, he would keep this piece of chalk from
breaking when it hit the ground!'
He proceeded to drop the chalk, but as he did, it
slipped out of his fingers, off his shirt cuff, onto the pleat of his
pants, down his leg, and off his shoe. As it hit the ground, it simply
rolled away unbroken. The professor's jaw dropped as he stared at the
chalk. He looked up at the young man, and then ran out of the lecture
hall.
The young man who had stood, proceeded to walk to the
front of the room and shared his faith in Jesus for the next half hour.
300 students stayed and listened as he told of God's love for them and
of His power through Jesus.
You have 2 choices:
1. Delete this and never look at it again.
2. Pass this along to your Christian and non-Christian
friends, giving them encouragement we all need every day
When you choose option 2, you have chosen to STAND UP
>>
Drew
1 comments:
Shades of David Sedaris!!
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