Undercover Rebel

I never really rebelled as a kid. Well, I rebelled a little but I rebelled in different ways. I have always been one to write things out.. one of those things being a “rap” about one of my high school teachers that I was not very fond of. He was kind of a creeper and flirted with the high school cheerleaders. He taught our physical science class but we learned a lot less about science, and a lot more about how music with a beat was a product of Satan. Well, then thanks Satan for creating some serious ear candy.

One day freshman year I decided I had had enough of his mindless banter so I decided to write a rap about him. I wish I still had it lying around somewhere. If I ever find it… watch out Macklemore. I believe the rap addressed girls getting their letter grades based on their bra sizes… and the fact that his pants were so tight that when he sat down on his lecture stool with legs wide open you could see much more of him than you wanted to. I don’t know how he ever expected us to be able to pay attention when his electrons were hanging out. If I ever need something to blame being gay on, I can just blame it on my high school science teachers male camel toe. That was some scary shit.

I had shown my new found talent for insulting teachers with rhythmic charm to a few friends. We had a good laugh and that was that…until a year later. One day my sophomore year of high school I was sitting in my math class. Algebra 1b to be exact. One of the office assistants walked in the classroom and handed me one of the prized pink office slips. Lucky me. I never got these things… but hey, if it meant getting out of class, it was a good day. The slip read that I should go see the vice principle. Hm. Strange. Perhaps there was some sort of confusion… Off to the office I went. As soon as I stepped into the vice principles office and had a seat I looked over at her. She had a concerned look on her face. What in the world was going on? Finally she started talking and told me that on her way to a woman’s retreat apparently my mom had found my rap as funny as I did and decided to bring it along to show it to the other ladies from the school. The vice principle being one of them. Part of me was proud that my mom found it funny, the other part of me was mad that she didn’t realize that showing the vice principle my outlet of frustration that I made a year ago wouldn’t get me in trouble. I was in the principles office for something I had done a year ago… because my mom found it funny and showed the vice principle. Thanks Mom. I must say though, I am quite happy that at least my mom has a good sense of humor.

The principle instructed me to bring my notebook containing the lyrics that won me my first office visit to school so we could “destroy it together.” I assured her I had retired from songwriting and agreed without hesitation. I was the good, awkward, quiet kid. I wasn’t asking for trouble. Except, I never returned to destroy that notebook. Everyday I saw her I expected her to come after me for it but strangely she never did. Maybe because she knew the lyrics were true, or perhaps she may have found it at least a little bit funny herself. The notebook containing the prized science teacher camel toe lyrics still exist… yet to be found. I didn’t get in trouble a whole lot in school, but it seems towards the end of my high school career I ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Kind of like my accidental involvement in the “sex tape” scandal that happened on one of the buses. That story…coming soon.

Know My Heart

I was driving home from work the other night, trying to be careful to keep an eye out for deer or any other furry road bumps that could lead to my premature death, when a thought popped into my head. What if I were to crash and die right now? What would God say to me? How would he judge me? Would I go to hell like I have been told I would because I’m gay? I got nervous and began to think of what I would say to defend myself from the fiery pits of hell. Then suddenly a sense of calm came over me and the words “God knows your heart.” came to mind. God knows my heart. It is that simple. I don’t have to defend myself to God, I don’t have to explain myself, or try to convince him that I am still a good person. He created me, he knows me. He gets me. We’re tight like that.

I admit, there was a long period of time where I was very angry with God, and sometimes even questioned his existence. I have reached a point where the anger is no longer there and I am more much more open to his presence. I know he is there. I know he exists. But I don’t entirely know what it means.

I am finding that my views of God don’t exactly align with the faith that I was brought up with. I don’t think I should have to choose between gay or God. I used to think that this was my only option, which is what made me so angry and resentful towards Him in the first place. According to what I was taught, I would either have to choose a life alone, or go through some sort of magical conversion therapy to turn me straight. I feel like conversion therapy should be called denial enforcement therapy. Denial definitely didn’t make me straight, it made me a liar, and it made me miserable.

In one of my last therapy sessions with my therapist that was trying to get me into conversion therapy I told her how I didn’t think that someone who was an “ex gay” that married someone of the opposite sex would be able to be fair to themselves or their partners. I asked her. “Would you marry an ex gay man?” She hesitated and thought about it for a minute and then went on to tell me that some people have done it and now have families with kids. Hate to break it to her but that means absolutely nothing. Procreation, or a legally binding document stating you are married to someone of the opposite sex does not mean that you are cured of homosexuality. I may know this from experience.

I think one of the things that people don’t get about homosexuality is that it isn’t all about sex. ( So get your mind out of the gutter ). It’s about love. Sex and love are two different things. I can NOT fall in love with someone of the opposite sex. It just isn’t there. There are no butterflies, no excitement, no emotional connection or yearning for affection. I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. People have sex with people they don’t love all the time. It is called meaningless sex. I happen to be someone who can’t do this. I am just not wired that way.

If there is one belief I have that I find still aligns with the faith that I was brought up with it is having a personal relationship with God. I still feel I have that, and sometimes it is the only thing I have left to comfort me when I am exhausted with trying to show that I am still me. I am still a person that just wants to love and be loved.