They Won't Let You Go

I know understand why the LDS Church is seen as a cult by so many people. It's because cults don't allow their members to leave of their own free will. They have to fight, crawl and push their way through the bullies of the Holy Order of the LDS Church Administrative Bureaucracy™.

Basically, they refused my request, and are instead sending it to my ecclesiastical leader (Bishop Mikolyski). If he calls me, I'm going to be pretty angry.

I called the LDS Church Member Records Division (1-800-453-3860 ext 22053) immediately and this is pretty much exactly what I said, since it was a pretty concise way that I found online to express my feelings:

“As you know, I stopped being a member of your church on the day you received my letter. It is clear that someone in your office thinks I don't know what my rights are.
I do NOT have to contact anyone else regarding my resignation. As a non-member I am no longer subject to your rules and regulations or policies. I DO have a right to get a letter of confirmation from you that states that my name has been removed from the membership rosters of the church.
Please stop wasting time and effort and handle my resignation appropriately. If you don't handle this appropriately, I may involve a lawyer or the press.”

So, we'll see what happens.

I should have known better than to think they'd let me leave quietly. Now I'm gonna get nasty.

Depressed

I was really depressed last night. I couldn't get a hold of anyone.

That's when I feel the worst. Totally alone.

At least I was blessed with a dream that I had someone cute and nice with which to share my bed.

That's all it'll ever be though. I'm too settled, self deprecating and conservative to earn the love of another.

San Francisco, Affirmation, Old Friends and a Model A Ford

Apologies to those who have been waiting for my feedback on this last weekend in San Francisco (I'm looking at you, Alan) This weekend I took a very short trip up to San Francisco for the 1st ever Affirmation Young Adult Cornerstone Conference. The conference was sparsely attended, but the small group made it feel more like a small ward activity than a big "conference". Which was nice. I think since it was the first time they'd ever had this event, coupled with the simple fact that most young people can't afford to go to San Francisco for the weekend. That's why all the attendees were from the Bay Area except me, Christian and his friend Max.

Christian is pictured here to the left. He is transgendered, and was born biologically female, and has been on hormones since April. I really enjoyed meeting him and getting to hear his story. I'd never met a transgendered Moho before and it was incredible. Interestingly, I still would occasionally refer to Christian as she--it annoyed me, because I support him and his dicisions, but knowing what I knew about his current physical state (pre-op) I would still mentally default to saying "she". I hope I didn't offend, as Christian was a cool person, and as the Bishop's kid in Orange County, I know his path is undoubtedly more difficult than mine.

The conference was fun and I sort of wish I had more time to get the stories of the attendees. I picked up peices between the seminars and talks about political activism and safe sex. But unfortunately, I just didn't get the time. We went on a walking tour of the Castro, which basically consisted of talking about which bars where for what and who goes where and has the best drinks or dancing. It made me feel a little out of the loop. I have gone dancing, but I still don't think clubbing tops my list of things to do on any given night. I still don't drink and frankly haven't more than a fleeting interest in starting. So once again, I was the minority, the guy who was recently out, single and insecure.

It is frustrating, because I'm working my hardest to find out why I'm still so goddamn uncomfortable with myself. My therapist and I are try to get to the root of it. I've got it boiled down the this, at least in my head--I don't deserve happiness. And I'm firmly of the belief that I'll never have it. It can't possibly sound any more emo and self-defeating, but that's the truth. And this blog is about the truth. I look at a couple like Austin and Todd, and I get nauseated. I feel sick to my stomach, knowing that the happiness and joy they've found in each other is never going to be found in my heart.

Don't get my wrong, I'm extremely happy for them--I know they will succeed as a couple. My envy is all encompassing. They are a hot couple, both extremely good looking and thin, which I'll never be. They seem to have given each other their whole heart, which embodies itself in the playfulness of their relationship. As it has been for my whole life, I'm controlled by fear. Despite my best efforts, every date I go on, I feel nothing, every time I look in the mirror and see the fat fuck staring back at me, I know I'll never earn the love and attraction I want, every day that I'm alone, I get more and more ready to give up.

I am sorry this post rapidly became depressing before I even knew what was happening.

I'll have to blog more on this later. To move on, Alan picked me up in his car in the Castro--I joked with him that I never expected to get picked up by an older man in a black car in the Castro..." Hahaha. We went to Grace Cathederal, which no pictures I took do justice. There was a wedding, and I got to hear some music of the choir.

Outside, I encountered this dashing gentleman, and knew I had to have a photo:

He pleasantly obliged, and I sent this photo to my mother, who loves the Scots. She also commented that she thought he was handsome--he is!

After Grace, Alan and I drove down through Golden Gate Park, and then to the 280 south to Woodside (Steve Jobs has a home in this area) up Route 84 to "Alice's Restaurant" (Yes, Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant.) We had dinner with my adopted Mom, Patty Mayall. Alan, Patty and I had a delightful dinner, laughing and talking about a myriad of subjects, before going back to Patty's to have apple pie.

For those who want backstory--Patty and I met at Mortified San Francisco back in April. Have you ever met someone who totally clicks with you and you feel like you've known them your whole life? It's a rare occurrence, but Patty and I were fast friends. And in the short time we were together, we felt comfortable enough to share phone numbers and e-mails, and she extended the invite to stay with her any time I was in the bay area.

So I took her up on the offer. And as we sat at the table talking, it was chilly and I put my arm around her, hugged her. It was very fun, and made me realize how much I miss my real mom, who is still in Virginia. I hope this doesn't make her jealous. My real mom (ToniAnne) and I will often go out to restaurants and sit across the table from each other and hold hands. It's fun, and makes my mom feel so loved and special--and she is both.

So Patty, my surrogate mom, was so appreciative--she's never had children of her own, and I think she really feels as blessed to know me as I do to know her. It's magic. She and her husband Ted are both going to be invited to my wedding (if I ever have one)

The next day, we got to do one of the coolest things I've ever done--easily the highlight of the weekend. We got to drive around the San Mateo Mountains in a 1928 Model A Ford!

Ted gases up the Ford before we begin our sojourn. The engine is gravity fed, meaning that the gas tank must be above the engine--which is why it's BEHIND THE DASHBOARD--basically your riding with 10 gallons of gasoline in your lap.

Here's the hood ornament. Classy! This car can go up to about 50 MPH (on a flat level stretch) and maybe 35-40 up any decent grade. It's a 3 speed flat cut gear manual transmission. It can get between 15-22 mpg. I got to ride in the rumble seat for most of the journey (no seatbelts) and consequently a rocking good time.

And then I got to DRIVE IT!!! This was kind of incredible, and as you can see I was giddy and grinning like the Cheshire cat the entire time. The car has an incredible amount of play in the steering, and it really felt not completely unlike driving the Antique Cars rides at any theme park. You could turn the wheel about a quarter turn before getting any response from the tires. It made driving a very conscious activity. This was real motoring. Oh, and no power brakes either... you're stopping the car with the force of your own foot.

When we finally got to San Gregario, we posed for a picture (me with my new hat I'd just bought).

I took the liberty of correcting and photoshopping this picture to the left to give it a historical and authentic look. Sigh, I want to own a car like this--but only if I've got a cool place to drive it like the winding country roads of the San Mateo Mountains.

In short, it was a fantastic weekend, with lots of new experiences, new friends, and fun. I'm an incredibly lucky guy, even if I don't understand why.

August 18th, 2007

Dear Journal,

It’s strange to even think about it. I am in love/have a crush. Let me rewind and explain.

Seth contacted me on Couchsurfing.com. He’s a 22 year old filmmaker from NY. Probably one of the most amazing spirits I’ve encountered in a long time. When he arrived, we walked and talked and I started to realize that he acted and talked the way I used to. Excited, full of life, friendly. We were joined by Nick, (the other person I’ve met this summer.) and we went to Sand Hollow Resevoir. We all played and splashed in the water and had a great time. We swam out to the island in the resevoir and jumped into the water.

There was one place where it was 17-20 jump into the water! It was an adrenaline rushing experience.

Anyway, because Kim was staying with us too, Seth slept in my room and we stayed up late (til 4am) talking about everything. Religion, politics, film, sexuality, etc. He is a gay Christian. We talk about what that was like. I lied and pretended I was straight. But when he left Friday morning I felt an emptiness inside. I’ve never felt this sad, even when leaving my best friends or family behind. This was a new experience that I’ve never encountered before. A new sensation. I couldn’t get anything done at work, I just kept thinking about him. How he’d burst into snippets of song, how he’d look me in the eye and smile when talking to me. Everyone loved him—Steven, Kim, David, Nick. He’s everything I wish I was. Smart, winning personality, great heart, openly gay but still maintains Christian beliefs. He’s athletic, thin and beautiful. He’s not like some waxed porno star—he had a hairy chest, but he’s tall and thin. Beautiful both inside and out.

This is so frustrating. I want to just tell him how I feel, give up on trying to “fix” my sexuality and be with someone like Seth. He’s exactly the type of person I’d like to spend the rest of my life with. I didn’t want him to leave and for the last two days I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I talked to Dad about it today, and that was nice, to have someone to share my feelings with. Just knowing how non-judgemental my father is has been good for our relationship.

I think the most frustrating thing of all is that even if I were to embrace homosexuality and tell Seth how I really feel, he’d probably be disgusted with me for lying to him and basically working to be straight, and he probably feels nothing for me. I’m fat and ugly and he’s an attractive gay male. He could get any guy he wants. Why would he want some emotionally scarred closet case fatso?

Or maybe he felt the connection too. But probably not, since I told him I’m straight, so he probably never even considered it. But oh, how I wish he did.

I am scared for my mental health because I’m starting to act like Joe Collesano, when he was projecting himself into relationships that didn’t exist. I wish we could watch a movie together, relaxing on the couch, holding each other in our arms… but it’s a stupid thought, and my mind knows this, but my heart aches/longs/pines for his companionship again.

But he’d never be attracted to me because I’m a coward—I’ve hid from myself and who I am for so long. I want to abandon the Mormon Church. When I talk to Dad, his beliefs are so clean and based on love. I want to feel happy from inside, and I can’t feel that right now living the way I’m living. God will give us no burden that we can’t handle.—but maybe it has to be handled differently. Do I have to bear my homosexuality for the rest of my life? Can’t I have someone in my life to cuddle and love?

I’m starting to repeat myself, but needless to say, I’m missing Seth a lot, even though I only met him for a few hours. There’s a special connection (at least with me.) and I just e-mailed him about it tonight (about having a “connection”) I’m nervous to see what he says. I just can’t get over the way he’d smile. Such a beautiful smile, like he really liked me and cared about what I was saying.

When he left, I gave him a “hug/shake” where you shake hands and then pull the other person in for a pat on the back. I wish I could have gotten a real hug. I liked getting a hug from him. *sigh* I’ve been sighing a lot in the last two days.

Well, I should move on from talking about Seth.

On Saturday, (today) I met up with Aaron (from Harrisonburg, VA) who’s going to Dixie State. I went to Sand Hollow with him and his two new girlfriends, Liza (from Hawaii) and Mandy (from Colorado) we had a great time splashing and diving into the rocks. Now I’m home and our four couchsurfers are here. Norah, Estelle, Lorenzo, and Angela. They are Tufts students road-tripping back to Boston (well, Sommerville) over like 3 weeks. They all seem really nice and they’re headed to Zion National Park tomorrow to hike Angel’s Landing. I should probably wrap this up, I’ve been writing for 45 minutes.

June 25th, 2007

Dear Journal,

It’s been a long week. On Monday I volunteered at the Church cannery and probably moved 6,000 cans of apricots in my four hour shift. Later, during the week, I got really depressed about having no friends and my struggle with homosexuality. So I called and talked to Bishop O. I tried not to cry when I was on the phone with him. But it did make me feel better. I need to persue making friends with Gunnar. I think he and I should make good friends. I’m just to creeped out to go to “Zumiez” in the mall and talk to him. Call it fear, stupidity, or maybe I’m nervous that he’ll see through me, see that I’m not a very good Mormon, or even that I’m gay. Fear. Discomfort. Anguish. These are the things that make me who I am. Am I really just an “underdeveloped” man who never developed his manhood and so he longs for the manhood of another? Or am I doomed by God because of some sin? Who knows.

Moving on, this week Dad had his Herb Walk this week, and it was very successful. Everyone seemed to really enjoy themselves and I seemed to be really liked by all the women who visited. In particular, Tanya from California. She seemed to really like me and she was a sweet old lady—I carried her backpack for her into Zion because it was hard for her to walk. She was such a trooper, I’m hoping to keep in touch with her.

Did a little budgeting today and I’m still wondering how I’m going to afford school. I imagine God will take care of me, especially as I have a testimony of the power of tithing and have been paying in full. This morning I ran for as long as I could at 8am. I couldn’t get far, but I’m going to try to get up each morning and run until I have to stop, and hopefully reverse my obesity. Wish me luck and persistence.

Self Perception

So I actually think I look pretty good--and people have often told me I'm handsome. But I don't believe them, and I really don't believe myself.  This probably stems from the (in my mind, logical) obvious conclusion that I'm single and hot people aren't single (at least not for long).  Of course looks are only one part of a person's ability to get a guy--personality is huge, but thats not what this post is about.

Last weekend, the TV campaign I was working on provided us with free t-shirts for the film.  They only had up to XL, and I always buy XXL shirts.  But I tried on this XL shirt (it was black and form fitting) and the girl who works as edit assist said "Ezra, you look really good in that shirt, you should wear t-shirts more often!"

It was a surprising revelation.  I have shied away from t-shirts, favoring plaid button downs instead, as I am required to wear collared shirts for work.   I always thought that t-shirts made my man-boobs look more obvious and therefore, ugly.  But I've lost 30 pounds since last May, and I'm still wearing the same clothes and dressing the same as I did then!

On my date with Ben last weekend (which was okay, but we both agreed we're not a good match) he said that he didn't have a type--it could be anyone so long as they're not fat or ugly.  I laughed and I said "There's obviously something wrong with your vision, you're on a date with me!"

He smiled and said "You're not fat, you're chubby".

I'VE BEEN DOWNGRADED!!! LOL.  I'm still very much clinically obese, (BMI=34.6) but at the same time, I think carry my weight very well.

Lastly, my therapist told me that she thinks I have a style and that I just haven't developed it for myself yet.

So this last Saturday I went shopping for some new clothes.  I've never even set foot into a store like Aeropostale before--I'd never have fit into anything there one year ago.  But now, I was easily able to find clothes that fit and looked great! See the two outfits I got below:

Left, Macys; Right, Aeropostale.

I bought "skinny" jeans!  Not spray on jeans, mind you, but jeans that fit snugly around my legs--and I looked damn good, and my roommate's girlfriend and many folks on Facebook agreed!

That night I went down to West Hollywood, (AKA Gay Mecca) for my friend Spencer's going away bash.  As I parked my car and walked down Santa Monica Blvd in the outfit on the left (my skinny jeans and black shirt with patches and rolled up sleeves) I couldn't help but feel good.  As I passed a restaurant patio, several guys were clearly glancing my way!  Even if they didn't look for long, the point was that they were noticing me at all!  This is not something I'm used to by any means!

Basically, I'm feeling much better about my self image, and I've really enjoyed finding new clothes that work well for me.  I've committed to buying a few things every other week or so to build a better, cuter wardrobe... I like looking good, and though I'm far from a fashionista, I'm finding that I do like the way a good outfit makes me feel.

Do clothes make the man?  Or do they just help accent the wonderful man that's already within each of us?  Some may call it vain, but couldn't you say the same thing about the Mormon Temple?  It's made with the highest quality materials, and prominently displayed because it is God's house.   And my body is a temple, right?

Anyway, I suppose the whole purpose of this post was to show off how good I'm looking and feeling lately--sorry for being a bit self-serving.

I love you all and can't wait to see you when I get to Salt Lake for the next Moho Party!

A Super Gay Sunday

So here's my long version of my teaser post from monday.

I'm been working A LOT this past week or so, (yesterday I worked 19 hours!) so I've let blogging fall by the way-side.  It also doesn't help that I don't have internet at home--though now that I think about it I could have written a post offline and then brought it in to work to post instead.

But I have some downtime while I'm waiting for a tape, so here's the deal on what I'm calling my "Super Gay Sunday".

The day started off with me waking and making a "Funfetti" cake for my roommate's girlfriend.  It was her 22nd birthday, and I wanted to do something nice for her, to dispel any remaining idea that I don't like her or don't approve of her.  Early on in their relationship, I think I was a bit stand-offish because they seemed to me to be a bad match... but with time I've come around to see that they actually are a great couple.

In addition to the cake, I went to the grocery store and bought a bushel of balloons.  While the girl filled them, she asked me "are these for a boy or a girl?" which I like to think was a creative way of asking me if I was gay--so I told her the story about my roommate's girlfriend, and that as a gay man I don't have a girl, or a guy, for that matter, to give balloons too.  She was really friendly and assured me that it just takes time.  She seemed suprised that I was only 22...

Anyway, while the cake baked, I wrote to a strictly platonic craigslist ad for a guy looking for a "witty, dry sense of humor conversationalist".  I thought that was intriguing, so I e-mailed, and we sent a few messages back and forth, before it was time for me to head down to Lawndale CA for my lunch with Spencer.  So I asked him to call me while I drove, and he did.

So we talked about this that and the other until I got to Lawndale.  An enjoyable time, but I had to say goodbye when I arrived at Spencer's house.

Most of you know, from my post "Another Amazing Happenstance" that Spencer is the guy I met on OKcupid who's best friend caused me so much angst when he rejected my invitation to get to know me.

Well, after essentially standing him up this Tuesday because I got stuck at work, I readily agreed to reschedule our meet-up for a Sunday lunch.

Now, a funny thing about Spencer is that he's 6'8".  Now, I know this, and was fully expecting tall--but when I knocked on his door (not realizing that there was a step up to get into the front door) and he answered, I was literally taken aback.  He was a good 14 inches higher than me as a result of the extra step... it was pretty crazy.

Anyway, after the initial surprise wore off, we headed towards Hermosa Pier, and decided on a Greek Tapas place.  SO GOOD.  We ordered a bunch of little dishes and ate and talked.  Spencer is so much like me it's not even funny.  I observed the language that he used, the playful and friendly manner in which he addressed the waitstaff, and was just happy.  He playfully chided me for standing him up, and at one point said "Jesus Christ" and then said "I should have said Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints", directly referencing one of my initial reasons for writing him in the first place.  His memory of the little details made me happy--he made me feel like he was glad to be spending time with me--I was certainly happy to be spending time with him.

I'd brought along a rather challenging puzzle-based Geocache for us to do after dinner. (Click the link if you wanna see what I mean--it's a puzzle requiring you to solve a number grid and then use the solution as your "road map"--looping you around through "senic" Lawndale, CA).  Spencer apparently loves puzzles, so he was very excited to solve it.  This made me happy, because so many people are sort of blase about Geocaching, and it's something I think is totally awesome.

The bummer part of this story is that he's moving to Sacramento in mid-may, and so the whole time we're hanging out, I realize that there's a good chance I'll never see him again.

The cache is in this picture... can you spot it?

The cache is that pipe of conduit bolted the the pole!!!  It was so cool I was practically giddy with delight.  I hope I didn't seem crazy--but I was thrilled!

Well, I dropped Spencer off at home so he could get to work.  I drove home, thinking about the fun time I'd just had, and bumming out that it wouldn't happen again, most likely, before the move.

So in an attempt to distract myself from loneliness, I called the craigslist guy and asked if he wanted to hang out and maybe go to a park and walk around or something.  So I picked him up and we went to Woodley Park and visited the Sepulveda Dam. (below)

This dam is awesome, and since it's for flood control, it's always a blast to visit and run up the dry spillways.  Stephen was a nice enough kid, but there wasn't any chemistry, and the difference in how I felt and spoke around him and how I felt and spoke around Spencer was like night and day.

So I dropped Stephen back at home after the park, fully intending to never speak to him again, because with my extremely limited free time, I've got people who I care about a lot more (like friends) than to hang out with someone I'm "meh" about.

Anyway, I got home and decided to call my friend Brandon B, who is the first guy I ever dated. (Granted it was just a coffee date.) and asked if he wanted to grab dinner.  He obliged, and we met at Bossa Nova on Sunset Blvd.  We chatted and caught up, and somehow he suggested that we go to WeHo together and visit a gay club--so we did!  Now granted, we went very tame, and it was a Sunday night, but all told, it was a very interesting experience to see men in such numbers holding, kissing, laughing and talking.  I mostly just stood chatting with Brandon and absorbing the vibe.

Oh, and a forty year old drunk man talked to me and Brandon for a while, extending the generous but undesired offer of his cock to suck.  He also groped my man boob and kissed my neck.  Suprisingly, I was not threatened by this, and was more amused than anything else.

Anyway, I finally took that step and got over that fear, and it wasn't a big deal.  I also had a sip of Vodka Tonic, when Brandon offered me to taste.  It tasted like NyQuil... there was little temptation to drink more.

That night, after all visiting the clubs, I returned to my home at 2am, overly weary (big mistake) for the intense week we had ahead of us at work.  But I hoped online and found that Spencer had invited me to his going away party in WeHo in a couple weeks.  Well, it made me glad that I'd gone to get over the fear so that I can say yes to his invitation.

The other funny thing, is that Spencer's friend Brandon, the editor friend, who I blogged about getting rejected by in my "Creepy Stalker" post, will be there... so he'll get to see exactly how awesome of a guy he ignored!

Anyway, today's been super hard, so I'm going to pass out--I've had a cap of NyQuil and I'm hoping that this is coherant when I read it back tomorrow.

Oh, and I have a date for this weekend.  He seems nice, and pretty cute, but not sure if he'll be my type---more on that when it goes down. Night!

And There's The Problem...

So it's official. I'm not gay enough.

I'm in the Castro blogging from my phone. A little while ago I had lunch at a little restaurant here called "home". They had an amazing meatloaf sandwich that knocked my socks off. But I digress.

When I got my check, I asked my (gay) waiter what I should do or what was a must see. He directed my that if I as going up towards this one area that there were a bunch of bars and strips clubs "like I think there's a Hustler strip club up there.". Yeah then I directly asked what to see and do in re Castro and I got told to check out the Castro theater because they show classic films.

So even in the heart of the Castro people don't even ask if I'm gay because it's apparenty not even in doubt. Now granted, I realize that maybe he just wanted to air on the safe side, assuming that straight people can get offended when their sexuality is questioned, and many gay men would be merely amused or flattered by the assumption that on is straight. But still.

I do not feel like I fit in in any community anymore. I'm pretty much done with
Mormonism and I'm still not comfortable with myself and don't identify with the gay community. I feel sick to my stomach.

Anyway, Mortified is tonight and if I'm lucky someone will invite me out with their group so I don't feel like a total loner lamo.

I feel like in many ways I like the person I was when I was in the closet a lot better. I feel less confident and more reserved an shy than ever. Sigh whatever I just am really lost.

Another Amazing Happenstance

So my life is very odd--coincidences happen to me all the time, and once again I've found myself privileged to be be a victim of happenstance.

Some of you may recall a recent post in which I spoke of my growing stalker tendencies. This post was a result of being ignored by another guy on OKcupid.

Well, about two weeks later, I was "matched" by the "Quiver Match" system to a guy named Spencer. I decided to write him based primarily on his use of the phrase "Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints" as an exclamation in one section of his profile.  I mentioned that I thought it was funny, probably because I had been raised LDS.

Well, he wrote back inquiring about my experience with the Mormon Church, and whether my departure had been dramatic and sudden or more of a drifting away. He also mentioned seeing a one man show about an ex-Mormon. I responded and told him it was pretty sudden on the outside, but very gradual inside, and that the show to which he was referring was probably either "Confessions of a Mormon Boy" or "Missionary Position" by Steven Fales. I provided him a link my blog, specifically the post about Missionary Position, and extend the invitation for him to read more to get a better idea of my journey.

Anyway, to make a long story short (too late), we get to talking. And he casually asks me,

"What was the name of the guy you were stalking, the editor in NoHo?"

"His name was Brandon, I think."

"He's my best friend." 

Uh oh.

"But I won't tell!"

Sigh of relief.

Except he did tell him. He mentioned to Brandon that "there's this blog I'm reading that you should check out--but don't be surprised if some of it seems familiar"

Yeah, so I have had both of these fellows reading my blog. Hi guys! Is the gay community really that small? I guess so. At least the gay editing community--that's me, Brandon and Clint so far!

Anyway, I don't really care that he told Brandon about this blog, I'm sure he was amused to learn how his inaction caused my angst-written blog post, and that's dandy.

I've continued to converse with Spencer, and he's a really awesome guy who I have great conversations with. I look forward to our chats and it aggravates me to know that he's moving to Sacramento in a month, because I feel like he could be a really good friend, and I don't feel like I have any really close gay friends. :(

So what continues to bother me is that these two guys are close friends, and undoubtedly have a lot in common and get along really well. So chances are, if I'm getting along well with one, I'd probably get along well with the other. So it makes it all the more damning to think that there's cool gay people who could potentially be awesome friends with me right in my own section of LA, and yet I remain not merely boyfriendless, but "gay best friendless". :(

WTFIWTBS?!?!

Being Here For Once

I have been meaning to make several blog posts as of late and I find that the only time I have lately have been sitting at the laundromat.

This also gives me an excuse to practice and hopefully improve my iPhone typing speed and accuracy. So far, so good.

Anyways, I'll start this post talking about my recent trip to Yosemite National Park. It was amazing. I didn't think that I'd want to stay the full six nights as I was alone, however I found that once I was out in nature, I was fine. No, I was better than fine, I was amazing.

I feel peace when I am alone in nature. My mind grows quiet, the gears slow down, and I am suddenly present. 100% present in the here and now. For once in my life, I'm not thinking about what I'm going to make for dinner or worrying about the next day at work. For once in my life, I don't reminisce about the past or dwell on mistakes.

For once in my life I feel free.

That's the power of nature-- that's what God is supposed to feel like. We shouldn't spend our days pining for some imaginary heavenly glory that may or may not be what we think it is or even exist! We must work to build Zion HERE RIGHT NOW. Because that's where we live.

WTF

I'm sitting in the business center at the Tenaya Lodge in Fish Camp, CA.

And I'm suprised and angry.

I'm happy to be here, and think I'll have a dandy time--but there's a lot of heavy stuff on my mind right now.

I've really upset someone. Part of me feels bad, and the other part of me says "fuck you and get off your high horse". I feel like I was trying to be a good friend and apparently was an asshole or something. Basically, now I'm angry too, at least for now. I am angry because I sincerly sought reconciliation and was greated with more passive-aggressive behavior.

Truth is, I don't need that bullshit in my life, and I don't like that it came from someone I hardly know. But why did it affect me so? For now I'm putting them off of my radar--it's the only thing I can think to do.

Secondly, here I am in one of the most Beautiful places in a comfortable Lodge--all alone.

It is getting me more depressed by the second. This type of thing should never have to be done this way. There is some snow on the ground up here. The lobby has a fire place. If only I had a boyfriend who I could snuggle with on the couch while watching the fire burn, or playing a board game.

I know I'm young and lucky to be where I am, but all my success and acheivements are trivial in contrast to my solitude.

**WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT**

I'm starting to scare myself again.

I feel like I'm getting more desperate and reckless as time goes by. Friday night I invited a guy over that I'd dated back around Christmas. He was kind of cute but not my type, especially personality wise. But I found myself asking him to come over and spend the night--knowing full well that there would be heavy petting involved.

He somehow didn't end up making it, and in hind-sight I'm thankful--I'm know I'm better than that.

Yet, when I realized he wasn't coming, I started browsing Craigslist, thinking about how easy it would be to get a hook up or a blow job. I stared at a post for a nearby glory hole for what seemed like 15 minutes, thinking about responding.

"I'd never even have to see the person"--it would just be a mouth, a tool for masturbation.

I didn't respond, of course. I masturbated--twice--and went to bed.

It's unsettling to me, because I know how badly I want a honest, meaningful relationship with someone who makes my heart race, who I always want to be around, who "gets" me. I want someone who turns me on, who gets turned on by me, who I can kiss and cuddle and hold and suck and fuck and make love and hold hands and massage. Who will let me run my hands around their waist and draw them in close.

I've only crushed once, and nothing has felt even remotely close since. Sometimes I think maybe I'm not programmed right. I can't elaborate on this tonight, as my brain is too fried from driving 4+ hours to Yosemite.

But seriously, when do I get to fall in love? :/

I'm so tired and so lonely.

I'll try to post more tomorrow night, and give you all an update on how my first day at Yosemite goes.

P.S. I'm planning to visit the local LDS church tomorrow morning, though I'm not 100% sure I can go through with it. Or WHY I am planning to do it.

I'm A Stalker

So I'm turning into my roommate. (Well, at least how he used to be before he finally got a girlfriend.)

I say this because I'm an internet stalker.  I'm on OKcupid, and I got a "quiver" match (basically people the computer suggests you message) with a guy who lives in North Hollywood and works as an editor.  He's pretty cute, too.

So I messaged him, telling him that I, too, am an editor living in Noho, and that I was looking to make new friends, date, network, etc and asked if he wanted to hang out.  Nothing too overt, but just a nice message inviting him to grab a drink.

He received my message and looked at my profile this morning--no response.  Granted, he may have been on his way out the door and not had time to respond, but generally if the person you write to views your profile and doesn't respond, you'll never hear from them.

So rather than letting it go and moving on with my life, I get depressed, once again asking myself "why am I so easy to dismiss, and so easy to ignore?"  I mean, am I the ONLY person who actually wants to make gay friends as he seeks out a boyfriend?  I'm not (just) trying to get into your pants!  I'm cool with networking and making another gay friend in my section of the industry!

So I start using information from his cupid profile to find him on Facebook.  Sure enough, there he is--and because of his privacy settings allowing people in his network (Los Angeles, CA) to see all his information, I found out what company he works for (one my company deals with from time to time) and so it just irks me all the more to think I'm dismissible because I'm unattractive.  He doesn't want to "waste his time" to even get to know me.

To make matters a bit worse, I had a great chat last night with a wonderful guy who I'd really love to take on a date, but lives to far away and probably has no interest.

SIGH.

There's a lot on my mind, but I feel like in needs to be stretched out over several posts, to avoid mixing topics and creating confusion.

The point is that I am disturbing myself because I'm so lonely that I stalk people I don't know. :(

19 Months Ago... June 28th, 2007

I haven't blogged in a while, and maybe because I don't have that much to say.  So instead I'll be opening up a journal entry from 19 months ago.  It is almost uncomfortable.

6/28/07
Dear Journal,

I’m not sure yet. This could be the day that you start making real progress towards heterosexuality—or it could be a day where you’ll look back and regret it. Today I told my Dad that I am struggling with same-sex attraction.  Homosexuality.

I honestly can’t believe that I told him. I bought this book on Amazon.com called “Coming Out Straight” by Richard Cohen, and I think it has helped me realize that I may have a chance to change. According to the book, there are many factors that can lead someone into SSA. I have a lot of them, and it really hit home.

When I told Dad, I cried and muttered along, trying to talk through the tears, and we held hands, he just let me get it all out before even speaking, and then he thanked me for trusting him enough to talk to him.

Then we stood and hugged, and I cried on his shoulder as he held me. I sobbed into his chest for a long time, but it wasn’t enough. Richard Cohen was right—touch/attachment therapy between father and son is important. I never wanted to let go. I’ve probably not cried in the presence of my father for 10 years. I’ve probably not been held like that since I was a child and it felt good, like I finally had a Dad. I’m not cured, and I’m not healed, but if anyone can help me, it’s probably him, since he’s the cause (direct or indirect) of most of these potential factors. He’s also good at emotional healing work. So maybe, with God’s help, the Bishop, Evergreen, myself, maybe D. H. (if I get the courage to ask him to help) I might be able to melt the pain in my heart that has caused these attractions. I’m scared of what is ahead, but I am grateful to be moving away from the darkness and into the light. There is SO much work to be done—I have such low self-esteem and confidence around men, poor body image, fear of women, inadequacy issues and who knows what else is hiding in my subconscious.

It’s funny. I have been asking God for a friend for the last few weeks, projecting developing a healthy friendship with someone, and maybe I’m supposed to heal and become friends with myself and my Dad. Could be?

There are so many thoughts whirling around in my head. Dad says he will do whatever he can to support me, maybe he can. We may do hormonal therapy, flower essences, emotional healing, and who knows what else. I want to become a real man with confidence, self-worth, and respect, and a deep belief that I am a child of God and he loves me as I am—I don’t have to please anyone else.

Dad says he loves me and wants me to know that I shouldn’t feel guilty for the way I feel. And that he feels change is possible, though even if I stay a homosexual, I’d still have his love and support and it wouldn’t change a thing between us.

I really wish I knew what he’s been thinking about all day. Is he even thinking about it?  I want to cry in his arms again.

I feel alone again.

Mom does not know and probably will not know about it until I am done with it (or close to it.)
I love my Mom, but I know (or at least I think I know) that her maturity level is not sufficient to be able to handle that kind of news appropriately. She’d get upset and cry and try to “pray the gay away”. But I already know that doesn’t work.

Sarah would be of the belief that I cannot change it and should accept it, and I’m not sure what Katie and David would think of it. Most of my friends feel the same way about SSA (that you can’t change it). I refuse to accept this because I know God places no burden upon us that we cannot carry—and I can’t carry these thoughts and feelings anymore.

Nothing has even been done yet, but already I have fears and doubts about this. Will the pain and suffering I dredge up be effective and heal me? Or will I be a more well-adjusted homosexual?

All of these fears and frustrations (sexual and mental) are being stacked on top of the lonely-ness of being here in the desert without any friends. Stacked on top of the boring, unfulfilling work I do, the hours of editing crappy footage for J. S.  Stacked on top of my inability to settle or be happy with a film idea and move forward in pre-production. Stacked on top of my concerns about money.

Welcome to adulthood, Ezra.

I need love and I need to get in touch with a very angry little boy who needs healing. I’m looking for a positive, happy relationship. Dad, I need your help. Help me. Help me. Feel me, touch me, heal me.

Sorry if that’s nonsense, I just felt like trying that.
So God, here’s a list (which isn’t all inclusive nor necessarily complete) of experiences I’d like to have and relationships I want.

-I want to have a family. As much as it is scary, because of my current feelings of inadequacy, I still want to experience the joys (and pains) of fatherhood. Please let me be a good father to a few of your spirit children, heavenly father. I would do my best to rear them in love and respect, with a firm foundation that I will never judge them and they can always talk to me.

An important part of this is to have a wife who loves me for who I really am. A woman who is physically attractive would be a wonderful experience, and if she could be supportive of me and the family, creative and spontaneous, a good homemaker, I will have to think more about this as I’ve never given this much thought.  If she is not Mormon I need to come to terms with marrying outside the church, but preferably she should be Mormon.  If the love is strong and the woman can accept me even having not gone on a mission, she should be smart and sound minded, but also be in touch with the guidance of the spirit so we can impart good wisdom and love to our kids.

God, I know thou can do anything, and that thou doest it on your timetable and as I further identify what I truly would like to experience in this life you will provide me with strength and understanding (of others and myself.) I realize I have a lot of forgiving of myself to do, and healing with my family, and I ask for special help with this as I have a tendency to worry and feel afraid and hold onto pain and punish myself for slipping up when I should just repent, forgive myself and move on. Thank you. I ask these blessings in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

This entry almost makes the me of 2009 uncomfortable.

I'm Warning You...

I'm warning you in advance, before you start reading, that this is probably going to be the most rambling flood of dis-organized, emo-licious, swear filled, angry and depressed post I've had in a while. It's my way of crying out for help. Yes, I'll admit that, I'm posting on this blog because I need validation, and I don't know where else to get it.

So if you're wise, you'll just ignore this post.

Here comes the flood.

FUCK THIS BULLSHIT RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW.

I'm sick. I'm sick in the head, and I'm not just talking about my head cold. I've been lounging around my house all weekend, and I thank God that today is presidents day, otherwise I'd have venture to work SICK the the fucking rain, which isn't supposed to happen, I live in LOS ANGELES for crying out loud.

I'm sick because I continue to torment myself on a daily basis. Yesterday I was already sick, and I was sleeping on my bed, and the phone rang, and I was so happy that someone would call, hoping maybe it was my older sister, who I love very dearly. But no, it was my God-Damn-Home-Teachers™. The good, Mormon me would have been excited to get a blessing, but I don't see the point. God already knows I'm sick, I've already asked him to help me heal, so why do I have to let two people who only care about me because they've been assigned to care touch my head and pour vegetable oil on the back of my head??? It's ridiculous... because I either believe the church, or I don't. And judging from the fact the I've not been to a mormon church since Sept. 2008, almost half a year ago, I'd say I'm pretty fully apostate.

Sometimes, destructive, abusive familiarity feels safer and more comfortable than the frightening cold unknown.

And I'm definitely in that territory now.

I basically told my hometeachers flat out that I only let them teach me because I know that they need to mark me off as "visited" in their report, and I'd hate to be responsible for keeping them from getting 100 percent of their work done.

It was a very uncomfortable meeting. I felt like flying off the handle at them the whole time spewing hateful venom at them, renouncing my faith and telling them to get the fuck off my couch, get the fuck out of my apartment, and never come back. But you can't get angry and two men who really believe that they love you, and speak softly and blah blah blah... what the hell are you supposed to do? It's just like in that episode of South Park "All About Mormons". Stan says:

Oh, stop it! That's another thing! Why do you have to be so freakin' nice all the time?! It isn't normal! You just weasel people into your way of thinking by acting like the happiest family in the world and being so nice to everyone that you just blindside dumb people like my Dad!

I laughed when I watched it. Now I cringe because I feel like it's true. I wanted to just flat out say, "I'm gay, I'm actively seeking a boyfriend, and I don't fit in your church anymore, so if you still want to visit me, then fine, but until I can be who I am within the walls of the church, then you can stop wasting both yours and my valuable time on this bullshit"

But of course, I didn't. I just said, simply, quietly: "I don't know what to tell you". I didn't engage. They got the hint, and they left, though not before one of them (the one I like less) tried one last time to passionately share that he does care about me.

Not the real me, not about my happiness, but for the me that I'm obviously "losing" the good Mormon me.

As if that even ever existed.

I turned down their offer for a blessing. No real point in getting on if I don't have the faith anymore. And when they left, I lay on my couch in a sickness induced stupor, and I started crying. I miss that fucking church so much sometimes. I miss that warm feeling of KNOWLEDGE. Of knowing, with absolute certainty the answers to all life's little problems and questions. I miss the hymns on sunday and my mormon friends that I grew up with, who are all getting married and starting their perfect mormon lives.

And here I am, sick, alone and crying. No one to make me soup. No one who will sit with me and watch a movie, snuggling up, not worried about getting sick from my contact.

I lay on the bed, and for the second time in a year started visualizing the bulk-sized bottle of Advil-Liquigels in the medicine cabinet, and how I could just walk over to that bottle, pour those fucking pills into my massive fucking gut and let that medicine, that pain relief action pump through every artery, vessel, and ventricle until all the pain of life was gone--until life was gone.

I'd probably get away with it too. My roommate if very respectful, and he wouldn't check up on me if my door was closed for probably a day or so. I'd be in the clear. I'm doomed to go to hell anyway, so why not cut through all the bullshit and just go now? What's a few more years of living worth when you have an eternity in hell to look forward to. It's not really worth bothering.

EMO-LICIOUS enough yet? Good, glad to hear it. I'm never going to find a guy because I'm too fucked up, broken, confused, fat, undesirable and angry to ever woo someone. Not to mention I'm picky and shallow, and I want someone who's good looking, but apparently I expect that person to see beyond looks since I'm fucking fat ass who while he's been sick has been binging up a storm and essentially putting on 5 pounds in a weekend. It's just what I deserve. I'm getting it all back, my feelings of being worthless and a waste of space and life are validated again and again, with every lonely night and every sad song and every cute guy I see who I'll never get the chance to talk to. Every couple and every baby, the knowledge that YOU'LL NEVER HAVE THAT. Fuck this life.

In the previous post, I took two doses (60ml) of NyQuil, which is two of those little dose cups full. Chedner had asked if it was 2 cups, as in 16oz? Well, sometimes I wish I had that courage--then I'd really be fine. My roommate had to work today. He wouldn't find me for almost 8 hours. Plenty of time.

Don't worry, I won't do it. I'm too much of a god-damn coward to take my own life. Too scared of the pain, and to considerate of the negative effect it would have on the people that rely on me. My job, my dear, sweet siblings who I don't deserve. My idiot, child-like parents who I can never talk to because they don't know how to listen. My loving, sweet grandmother who's always had more faith in me and more love for me than I've had for myself, who supported me and gave me money for college. All that would be wasted if I killed myself.

It's for those reasons I can't do it. But dammit, I wish I could. I'm done with trying to figure this shit out. It's too hard, and I don't care anymore. I want to have my biggest problem be that my TiVo can't record all the shows I want it to. I want to be a blindly faithful member of a church that fits me like a glove, who can't see the fact that maybe people aren't all supposed to be the same and need different faiths and denominations to achieve that same end-goal of being a good person who does unto others what he would have done unto him.

I'm getting tired now. I took more NyQuil. The benifit of growing up using homeopathic and herbal remedies is that when you really want the wallop, modern medicine seems incredibly powerful and wonderful.

Goodnight. It's nap time. I'm sorry you had to read this, but then again, I warned you that you should stop before starting, because all it is is a sad tired little boy who is crying out for help, for the pain to stop. He can't take it anymore... but every day it's just trying to get to the end.

Silly and Pointless

Sometimes I get very confused and wonder why.

Why did I attend an Episcopal Church service with Alan on Sunday and cry my eyes out?

Why do I continue to allow my home teachers to see me even though I already know I can't go back to the church?

Why do I spend time at work writing blog posts and flirting with boys that are thousands of miles away?

Why am I so hard on myself?  I've lost 20 pounds in the last year, and yet I'm constantly depressed at how fat I am.

I'm going to get fired one of these days.

The Difference Between Courage And Cowardice

While in therapy yesterday, I was explaining that since coming out, I've become more active and vocal regarding GLBT issues, because I feel it's my duty.  It would be selfish and irresponsible for me to let others do all the work for my equality, freedom and dignity.

But I never wanted to be a fighter.  I never wanted to have to stand up and defend myself.  I never wanted to make a statement.  I just wanted to live my life according to the dictates of my own conscience and be done with it.

"But", I said, "I force myself to do the things that I'm afraid of.  Because it's only by facing them that I can overcome the fear, and move towards being truly comfortable and at peace.  I guess that's the difference--".  At this point, a little switch clicked in my head.  I started crying. I paused as I let the words that were on the tip of my tongue roll around in my mind. "--the difference between a coward and and a courageous man, is action."

My therapist smiled--she saw the door opening, just a crack--and light of truth flooding around the frame.  I smiled, too.

"I know that both the coward and the courageous man are scared shitless--but the courageous man does what is right and true anyway."

I laughed and looked to my therapist. "So why don't I believe it?"

And Here's The Response

So this is the response:

Hi Sweetheart, this will be short because the computer keeps crashing every few minutes...
I'm glad you told me and that you are at peace with yourself. Does that mean Joe is more than a roomie? Just wondered. Anyway... Gotta end before it crashes again... will get back to you. Just didn't want you to wonder if I'd gotten this.
Love Mom

No mention that nothing has changed. No mention of support or rejection. And considering my mom is online ALL THE TIME, this seems a pretty weird/lame excuse. She could call me, I even suggested it in a PS on my original e-mail (which I left off of the previous post).

She hasn't called. The two people in my family who've had the least to say about my coming out have been the two that are still most deeply entrenched in the church. I know that this is because they are following the adage "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all". I realize she will need time to process, but I know that the reason she can't be immediately responsive is because she can't lie to herself or to me and tell me she's okay or that she supports me and that "nothing has changed"... because stuff has changed. I just threw a major kink into her vision for her children's future. And as an active memeber, she probably believes that my sexuality is a choice, or something she did wrong that caused it.

Frankly, (and it's going to sound cold to say this) I'm not going to let my mother worry me. I've extended my arms open to keep her a part of my life as I move into this new direction, and at this point the ball is in her court. She can either shoot the hoop or walk away. Who knows that that means, but the point remains. It's in her hands now.

I am sad she didn't call me, and I'm worried for what she might say in a longer e-mail.

Yikes.

Anyway, I'm lonely again on a Saturday night. *sigh*

The Depths Of Confusion

If I could express to you the level of personal dismay and confusion I feel, I would probably have a book deal, because it would take the eloquence of someone like Thoreau or Hemingway to convey the thoughts I've got bouncing around in my head.

This weekend, I'm planning to hit "send" on an e-mail that I've drafted (the first part was written almost 4 months ago, and finished Sunday night.) to my mother.  It's my coming out e-mail, and she's really the last person who really matters to me who doesn't know.

Big deal, right?  You've already come out to everyone else, you're no longer living a lie, you've already been out of the church proper since September, so what?

I've been thinking something really scary and horrible and it frightens me almost as much as the realization and fear of being gay--that maybe I'm bisexual/straight.

If I were to venture a guess, I'm probably a 4 on the Kinsey Scale, "Predominantly homosexual, but more than incidentally heterosexual".  Without getting into too much detail, since I've "come out" and had some experience with male physical intimacy, I've found that I'm EXTREMELY picky when it comes to who I find attractive.  So what? 

Well, I can't look past the physical--I am extremely shallow for being a fat ass who's lucky to get anyone giving him the time of day.  The guys I'm interested in are all white, clean cut and slender.  I guess you could say I like twinks, though I don't really go for labels.  I don't like effeminate guys, but I don't like overly "masc" guys either... I guess I just want someone like me--a nice guy who doesn't know anything about sports, but doesn't have an obsession with pop stars like Beyonce (not that there is anything wrong with either).  So there's this tiny tiny window of what I'm actually attracted to, and everyone else I could care less about.

Well, when I've been in physical moments with guys I've dated, each time my desire for their physical body decreases very quickly, because they aren't what I'm looking for.  But I've probably got this "ideal" guy in my head that I'll never get or find, and so I'll never be able to have it... how is that different from trying to live in celibacy in the gospel?  I don't know.

The thing is, I don't know how to explain this without sounding perverse or rude. Frankly Mohos never seem to mention the sexual aspects of their attraction, (because we're all Mormon, and that stuff is taboo even in the hetero world).  

So if discussing gay sex is a bit uncomfortable for you, I'd advise moving on to the next blog where everything is talked about euphemistically, if at all.

I don't desire cock.  At least not the way it seems most (non-religious) gay people do.   For example, if  you're a red-blooded hetero male and you see a nice pair of breasts on someone whose face is "meh", you might still desire those luscious melons.  Well, when I'm in the gym and I see a nice penis, it doesn't arouse me, and I don't desire to play with it or anything like that.

I don't fantasize about giving or getting anal sex.  I don't get aroused at the thought of giving a blowjob--although getting one? Sure, but then again, most men, straight or gay enjoy getting one.

I am not disgusted or repulsed by women.  I could easily keep it up for a woman and probably have a fun roll in the hay--but I don't admire women in the same way.

Lately I've been feeling decidedly sexually ambivalent, and somewhat confused about it.  The fear lies in that if I'm bisexual, or even remotely hetero, then couldn't it be possible that I could someday find a woman I really love, physically and emotionally, and then live the path that the Mormon Church proscribes?  It's why I'm terrified of coming out publicly--once you're "out of the closet" it's basically impossible to go back on your word.

My roommate's girlfriend confided in him that she "doesn't think I'm really gay".  She has a lot of gay friends, both flamboyant and "straight-acting", and it bothers me that she could think that in a way.  My older sister also questioned me when I came out, saying that maybe I was Bi--all her best friends are gay, and she just couldn't believe it.

I'm rambling now.  I know this is all retarded--of course I'm gay.  I watch gay pornography, I date men, I abandoned my church and am venturing into the unknown, with only my fellow bloggers for a community now.  But it scares the hell out of me to think that if maybe I am changing, or healing, or was just confused--or if I'm bi, then that means I can "choose" to find a woman over a man, and live a "normal" Mormon life with a wife and kids.

I know that I'm just scared and confused and that the reason I don't feel much physical desire for men is because I've not found a man whom I'm attracted to both physically and intellectually, and I know that I need that--my sexual desire spawns from a desire to make the person I care about feel good, and to show my love for them--not because I'm all hot for cock.

Bah, sorry for this post.  I realize it's a terribly disorganized jumble of angst and confusion, but I suppose that's the only way to convey how mixed up I feel.  I've started to write three posts in the last three days but I never finish them, so I just jumbled them all together and got them out the door for you.

I suppose I'll be sending that e-mail late tonight... wish me luck. 

Have a great weekend.