Magic Pills

I just read a blog post that has really got me thinking.  It started with a tweet on Twitter.  Anita1956 said, “Would I take the straight pill? Here’s my answer.” with a link to her blog http://tinyurl.com/aa78mp.  Here’s what she said:


The Straight Pill

Date March 13, 2009

If there was a pill that could make me straight

…..Straight in body

…..Straight in mind

…..Straight in heart

…....I would not take it.

If taking such a pill would restore all my lost friendships

…..And regain my parents pride

…..And give back my families respect

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking such a pill would return me to my former ministry

…..And the admiration of the congregation

…..And the loving welcome of the church

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking such a pill would replace the love I have for my wife with an equal love for a man

…..And we could legally marry

…..And we would be granted full rights under the law without fighting for them

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking such a pill would mean no one would reject me for being who I am

…..And for saying what I believe

…..And for standing boldly as one who follows Christ

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking such a pill could take the world back in time,

…..Before I came out of the closet,

…..Before I said I was gay

…..Before I knew I was gay

…..Before inequality touched me

…..Before hate revealed its ugliness to me

…..Before anyone rejected me

…..Before anything was lost to me

…..Before I ever questioned God’s love for me

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking that pill would make me straight

…..And famous

…..And wealthy

…..And talented

…..And adored

…..And beautiful

…..And thin

…....I would not take it.

…....I would not take it.

…....I. Would. Not. Take. It.

I would never take a pill that would make me straight because

…....I love being who I am

…....I love being whole and free

…….I love seeing the world from where I stand

…....I love knowing God from this place

…....I love feeling passion burning in me for equality

…....I love being part of a people who are courageous and relentless

…....I love being one in Spirit with every queer youth

…………..With every gay man and woman

……………With every bisexual man and woman

…………..With every transman and transwoman

……………With every ally and friend

……………With everyone who questions, doubts and searches

…….And I love being one in Spirit with you

……………Bound in hope, and faith, and love

……………Bound in God

If there was a pill I could take that would make you straight

………..And taking that pill would end all your confusion and anxiety

……….And remove your fear that God has rejected you

……………I would not take that pill even for you.

You are gay.

…..You are not wrong.

…..…..You are not sinful.

…..…..…..You are not evil or perverted.

…..…....…..You are not unworthy.

…..…..…..…..…..You are not a mistake.

…..…..…..…..…..…..You are not to be ashamed.

You are gay.

…..God loves you.

…..…..God holds you.

…..…..…..God stands with you.

…..…..…..…..God delights in you.

…..…..…..…..…..God calls you “My own.”

If there was a pill that could make me straight

…..And make you straight

…..And you

…..And you

…..And you

…....I would not take it.

…....I would not take it.

…....I. Would. Not. Take. It.

Before I even clicked the link to her blog I answered that question for myself.  “Yes!  I’d take that pill in a heartbeat!” Being gay is one of the biggest struggles I’ve ever dealt with in my life and most of the time I feel like if I could chose not to be gay, I would.

Growing up in a “Christian” home as a gay boy is an incredible challenge.  It is made abundantly clear to you from the beginning that homosexuality is wrong, that homosexuality is a perversion, and that homosexuals are damned for all eternity.  There is an incredible amount of fear that is driven into Christian children about hell and sin and damnation and we learn from a very young age that we want to do everything in our power to make sure we don’t go there.  This results in tremendous amounts of guilt and shame.

For me, the shame was too much to bear and I denied who I was for most of my life.  I chose to believe that I was not gay, that there were other, perfectly legitimate reasons why I was aroused by the images of the male models in the International Male and Undergear catalogues I subscribed to when I was a teenager.  I convinced myself that one day, when I met the woman God had in store for me, I would be physically attracted to her and I would feel normal and complete.

I finally began to admit to myself that I was gay and accept who I was about four years ago and I said it out loud for the first time when I told my therapist two years ago.  By this time, I had read the bible, The King James version, from cover to cover and learned that what I had been told my entire life was cut and dried, well, it really wasn’t.  I learned that there were a lot of discrepancies between the things I had been taught to believe and what I determined for myself in those pages.  I learned that while the Bible is an important resource that there is more research to be done and so I did.

I researched on-line the question of whether homosexuality is an immorality, whether it’s a sin and what it means to be gay and a Christian.  When it all started, I went in search of something definitive that would tell me what I was already sure must be true:  That Homosexuality is, in fact, an irrefutable sin.  What I found instead, was a whole lot of the same rhetoric, the same answers and explanations about why homosexuality is wrong, with all of the same holes that I had yet to explain away.  The same holes that made me question the accuracy, the validity of what I’d been taught.  These holes left me with questions and doubts.  The explanations didn’t sit well with me.  They didn’t feel… They didn’t feel true.  I believe that we all, each of us, possess a spirit that is to some extent or other, in tune with the Holy Spirit.  I started to realize that the reason these explanations didn’t feel or seem right to me is because my spirit knew they weren’t.  My spirit was hungry for the truth.

So I dug deeper and I found several resources with more information.  I found resources that did a better job of explaining what the various Biblical references which are used against us might have really meant.  I found scholarly authors who had a deeper understanding of what the times and the languages were like, and how the Bible might have been translated incorrectly over the generations and centuries that have passed.  And I found a reminder that the God I love and serve is a loving God who wants the best for me, who wants me to be happy.  I finally came to accept that the thoughts and feelings and urges that I was stifling for so many years, close to 30 of them, were normal and natural and a part of me, who I am, the way God made me.

I didn’t take this information lightly, and I didn’t set out to find justification for me to behave in a way that was not morally right.  Honestly, I set out to prove, once and for all, that what I was taught my whole life was absolute fact and that I had to continue to suffer until God saw fit change me and make me “normal”.  I resisted the things that I read that told me that I was OK as a gay man.  I resisted the urge to rejoice at the affirmations that I found because surely, as my mother would have told me were she involved, I was “possessed of the Devil”, I was “being deceived.”  Surely it wasn’t possible that I could, in fact, be gay and be acceptable in God’s sight.  But the evidence mounted, the case was made over and over again… and my spirit?  My spirit was at peace.  I stopped hurting.  I started healing.  I told my four closest friends.

I still struggle with the internalized homophobia that I was raised in.  I still struggle with accepting myself, but now, it’s because I’m programmed this way, not because I really believe that there’s anything wrong with whom I am.  I have to believe that as time moves on, I’ll struggle less and less and be more and more content in my life.

What I really struggle with, though, is the shame.  Not shame because I think there’s something wrong, but shame because I’m so sure everyone else will.  I get anxious when I write something like this because I’m sure that someone will read this and tell me that I can’t be both gay and a Christian.  (Of course I can.)  I’m afraid someone will read this and begin to scrutinize me and my behavior in a different way now that they know I call myself a Christian.  (I’m not living my life for those people, but no one likes to be judged.)  The truth is I hold myself up to the measure my mother has set out for me and I know I fail miserably.  Most days I’m OK with that.  I know I will never measure up to her expectations and I know that most of her expectations are unreasonably high anyway, but part of my internal programming is to see her expectations as those of all Christians and I assume I’ll be judged and condemned by all of them for one reason or another once they learn that I call myself one of them.  (I don’t really call myself one of them and I suspect that will make for another lengthy blog post in the future, but the terminology is the same even if the intent is different.)

The shame that I struggle with has crippled me with regard to coming out to my family.  Not a single member of my family knows that I’m gay while I have to believe some of them may suspect.  It is with this knowledge that as I bring this post nearer to its conclusion and prepare to press that “publish” button I am shaking and feeling genuine anxiety about putting this information out there for the world to see.  You see, my Twitter account updates my Facebook status.  My brother is my only immediate family member who is on Facebook.  I post links to my new blog posts on Twitter which means they’ll show up on Facebook as well.  It is not a stretch to think that my brother will actually see this post and because I am such a coward, this is how he’s going to learn the truth.  Will he say anything to me?  I don’t know.  Will he tell other members of my family?  He might.  Am I disappointed in myself that I can’t just say it to them?  Of course I am.

So if such a pill existed that could make me straight, would I take it?  I’m afraid that is not as simple a question as I first thought it was.  I’d be inclined to take it.  I’d never have to worry about telling my family the truth.  I’d never have to worry about facing the internalized doubts and fears that persist.  I’d never have to worry about having to tell people in my daily life.  And I’d never have to worry about trying to learn how to date as a gay man, or find someone that I could happily spend the rest of my life with.  Life would certainly be easier if I were straight.

On the other hand, maybe taking that pill would be like turning my back on everything that I learned in this process; that God did not make a mistake when he made me; that I am gay because that is how God intended it; that there is nothing wrong with me just because I’m gay; and that God loves me every bit as much today as he did the day I invited him into my heart as my personal Lord and Savior and the only thing that has really changed is, now, I know the truth.

If there was a pill that I could take that would make me straight, would I take it?  I’m sad to say that it would be a tough decision to make, but in the end, No, I would not take it.


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My special thanks to Anita, author of the blog that started this, first for writing the post to begin with and second, for granting me her blessing to re-post it here for all to see.

Well, Either You’re Closing Your Eyes to a Situation You Do Not Wish to Acknowledge, or You Are Not Aware of the Caliber of Disaster Indicated. Ya Got Trouble, My Friend, Right Here, I Say, Trouble Right Here in River City.

In case you haven’t heard, times are very tough.

unemploymentMillions of people have been laid off from their jobs and the national unemployment rate is 7.6 percent as of January.  In California where I live it’s higher, at 9.3 percent.

The state of California is broke with a $42 billion budget deficit and it’s only getting worse by the day as the state legislature can’t seem to come to an agreement on the budget.

Can we all agree that times are tough?

I’ve known this all along but somehow I guess I didn’t really get it.  I’ve been suffering from “not me” syndrome.  “Yeah, it sucks.  Yeah people are hurting and I wish I could do something, but at least it won’t happen to me.”

Before anybody get’s too worried about me, no, it hasn’t happened to me… not yet, anyway.  For weeks, maybe even months, Douche Bag has been saying that we have to tighten our belts and cut back on spending, but he’s also been saying that we were not going to be facing any lay-offs.  “Senior Leadership” has stated that it won’t benefit The Company that Created the HMO to lay people off because after you pay severance packages you don’t realize any cost savings for at least a year if not longer.

Last week an e-mail went out from the President of Operations addressing the current economic crisis.  The e-mail said that we were facing some lean times.  It said that in an attempt to deal with these lean times they were taking certain measures to ready ourselves for the tough times ahead.  Among those measures was freezing the salaries of the top 500 employees.  This is a good move.  It proves that they are not just out for themselves and that they are trying to take care of their employees.  The e-mail went on to say that while The Company that Created the HMO was still going to give merit increases, they were reducing the overall budget for the increases by 1%.  Normally, my region’s budget is 3% so this year it would be 2%.  Not great news but livable.  In addition they were still going to give out the annual bonuses that we traditionally get in March.

Honestly, I had full expected to get absolutely nothing this year.  Not an idea I enjoy but not surprising, so it didn’t come as a huge surprise when the follow up e-mail came today.  While The Company that Created the HMO as a whole is following those measures, it has been determined that some regions will need to take additional measures, determined by the market they serve.  Northern California is one of those regions.  Not only will the top 500 Executives have their salaries frozen, but not a single one of the Northern California non-union employees receive a raise before fourth quarter when they will re-evaluate our financial status.  (Read, probably not then either.)  We will still receive our bonuses, which comes as a surprise to me but, raises will not be happening.  And then the big shocker, the e-mail stated that it will not be sufficient to maintain our 2008 staffing levels.  We must reduce the number of full time employees.  There’s no other way to read that, there will be lay-offs.  I think, perhaps, it would have been good if they’d included in that information when and how many they are planning, but at least now we know that it’s going to happen.

I’ve given a lot of thought over the last few weeks, as rumors started flying, about how I could see this playing out and there are a number of scenarios that could play out that would leave me vulnerable.  I have the most seniority in the department, besides Douche Bag, and my function is somewhat unique, in that no one else in the department does what I do.  It could be that the seniority will save me, but on the other and it could be that the seniority also makes me too expensive to keep around.  It could be that the uniqueness of my position will save me, but then again I do have a counterpart in another building that does the same thing and there was a time when our jobs were a one man operation for all of Downtown Oakland.  There has already been a proposition that the functions I currently perform should be consolidated to this other person leaving me free to take on other responsibilities.

I see three possible scenarios with that as well:

  1. Captain Oblivious will approve the proposal to consolidate the function to my counterpart and I’ll continue working here fulfilling other responsibilities – and potentially finding a way to like my job again;
  2. Captain Oblivious will deny the proposal with concern that doing this would leave me vulnerable to being laid-off;
  3. Captain Oblivious will approve the proposal and instruct that I be laid-off.

I have a peace about this.  There’s nothing I can do to change how things will play out.  I go to work everyday and do the best job I can do (when I’m not reading or writing blog entries or Tweeting) and wait to see what happens.  In the end there’s not much more I can do besides leave it in God’s hands.  I trust that he will lead me through it.

Yes, times are tough, but things will turn around.  They always do

Those Just Tuning In I’m Just Letting Ya Know That Imma Slacker

Sometimes I wonder if The Company that Created the HMO knows it’s their fault I don’t work more while I’m here er– there.

The work I do is very tedious.  A lot of routine, repetitive bullshit that I couldn’t care less about and so it takes a lot for me to get motivated to do the work in the first place but then when I do finally get to it, I have really inferior tools to work with.  The Company that Created the HMO insists that we are on the cutting edge of technology, and they may be right when it comes to the hospitals and the medical services we provide, but when it comes to our administrative tools, GOOD GOD are we behind the times.

My job consists of opening e-mail notices that there is a new request in our Intranet based request system, scrolling down in the e-mail to the link, clicking the link and WAITING for the slow-ass intranet site to respond.  Once it finally opens, I review the request (rarely are they wrong) and then I click on an edit link and WAIT for the slow-ass intranet site to respond.  I then select “In Progress” from a drop down menu, send a notice to the requester as to when their request will be fulfilled and put the request on a spreadsheet for the vendor.

WAKE UP, DEAR READER!!!

So that’s the part of my job that actually has any kind of deadline and has to be done in a timely manner.  The completion of those same requests in the slow-ass intranet system is supposed to be done in the same calendar month but there are no consequences and I put it off because the system sucks so bad I get pissed off when I do it.

So here I sit, staring at my screen waiting for the request in question to open so I can click edit so I can wait for it to reopen so I can select complete from the drop down menu and move along to the next one, rinse and repeat as needed.  While I’m waiting for the system to do its thing I start getting distracted.  The internet is a shiny object you know.  So I click over here to WordPress and start a blog post.  Before long, I’m more focused on the blog post then I am on the request completion tedium.

So you see, dear The Company that Created the HMO, it really is your fault that I’m spending company time, on company equipment doing things that are for my personal enjoyment (well, mine and the legions of people who are(n’t) reading my blog, waiting with baited breath for the next installment) but which benefit the company not one iota.

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Note to the reader:  The real irony in this post is that as soon as I started clicking over to WordPress to write this post, the request system to which I’m referring started working flawlessly, moving between screens lickety-split!  Go figure.  I guess I should attempt to slack off more frequently!

Batman’s Return

About a year ago, I had a dream about Batman and the Mrs.

I was sitting in the corner of a dark, noisy and crowded Cantina reading a book and eating a burrito.  There were neon signs all around advertising Coronas, Pacificoes and Tacates, and there were fluorescent representations of donkey shaped piñatas and sombreros and cactuses (cacti?) on the walls.  Suddenly what little light there was for me to read my book was blocked by a figure.  I looked up and there he was.  He was gorgeous.  Much the way I remember him, and yet, somehow different.  I couldn’t put my finger on it at first.

There was a difference in his presence.  A maturity that wasn’t there before.  An intensity in his gaze at me.  He greeted me with an exuberant handshake and before anything else happened Mrs. Batman approached.  My heart sank a bit.  I was happy to see him and I didn’t want to be holding a grudge against her but it was hard not to experience those negative feelings and emotions from so long ago.  Mrs. Batman said hello, and I offered them both the seats across my table from me.

I realized, there wasn’t just a difference in him.  There was a difference in both of them, in the way they were together.  They didn’t touch.  Batman didn’t put his arm around Mrs. Batman.  He didn’t put his arm on the back of her chair, or over a shoulder.  He leaned forward on the table and focused his attention directly on me.  Mrs. Batman, didn’t lean toward him.  She didn’t put a hand on his leg.  She didn’t glance lovingly in his direction.  All the tell tale signs of a couple in love were absent.

They didn’t look unhappy, in fact they looked very much the opposite.  Like they were content with their lives and the directions they had gone in.  As I looked at them and noticed these changes, I also noticed that there had been some definite physical changes in Batman.  He was leaner.  Not thinner; God knows there was no room for that.  Just fitter.  The gut was completely gone, replaced by a complete absence of shirt pucker.  His clothes weren’t skin tight but they left little question as to his condition.  Where once there had been a gut, and then, in Stockton, a slight lump, now there was nothing but a flush, smooth line from puffed up chest to his belt.  His hair was shorter with more of a spiky look, and he had bleached highlights I hadn’t noticed until he sat down and the light was above his head and not behind.  The glasses were gone and in their place his beautiful, intensely blue eyes as blue as the Caribbean sea on a perfect day, and they were focused directly on me, looking into my eyes.  And then I saw the most notable physical changes.  His ears were pierced.  One small, simple hoop in his left ear, but in his right, he had the matching hoop, with a stud next to it.  He also had a bar running through the top of his ear lobe, and a small hoop through the cartilage just in front of his ear canal.  In addition, there was a hint of a tattoo, showing beneath the bottom of his short sleeve on his right arm.

“What happened to you?” I asked aghast.

“What do you mean?” was his response.

“Your ears.  The Tattoo.  Mrs. B was always opposed to those things.”  I couldn’t contain my complete surprise.

“I still don’t like it,” was her simple reply.

“What I do with my body, stopped being up to her a few years ago,” he said matter of factly.  “We’re divorced.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather.  There’s was never, by any means, a rock solid marriage, but they’d had a mutual determination to stay together forever.  The two of them just looked at me as though he had just informed me of the time and not that their marriage had ended.  And then he continued.  “We split up about three years ago,” he said.  “It was a difficult time for us but we worked through it and for the sake of the kids (they had two the last I knew) we’ve worked out a deal.  We still live together in the same house, just separate bedrooms, and we are friends.”

“Wow.  Well, that’s really great that you could do that, but uh, wh-what’s happening tonight?  You’re out together?  Without the kids?”

“Oh,” piped up Mrs. Batman, “I was actually just dropping him off here, and thought I’d come in and get some dinner to take back with me.”

“My car is in the shop right now, and I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.  Mrs. B was nice enough to give me a ride.”

“Oh,” I said, some what deflated.  “Well, it was good to see you.  I don’t want to keep you from your…  Date?  Meeting?  Friends?”  I had become quite engaged in the conversation and was really enjoying the time with and attention from my long lost friend, and so I was quite disappointed to realize it would be cut short.

“Anyway, I need to get going,” Said Mrs. B, as she was standing up from the table.  “It’s nice to see you again, Kevin.  Maybe I’ll be seeing more of you,” she said.  It came out laced with hidden meaning I did not yet know.  Why would she be seeing more of me?  Batman and I were no longer friends and I didn’t really think their divorce was going to change that.  Especially not if they still lived in the same house.  Before I could say anything, she turned toward Batman, shot him a knowing glance and walked away.

I heard a chuckle from his direction and as I turned to look at him, I realized my mouth was hanging wide open betraying my shock and amazement at the whole thing.  As he moved over to the seat in front of me I asked, “What are you laughing at?”

“Just you.” he replied, smiling.  “Obviously, this all catches you very much by surprise.”

“Uh yeah, you could say that!  I’d love to hear the rest of the story, but I guess you better go find your party.”  I answered, disappointed.

“Eh.  He doesn’t know what I look like.  Never seen him before in my life.  I think I’d rather stay here and catch up with you, if that’s OK?”

“Um–  OK.  Yeah.  I’d love that but what am I missing here?  You’re meeting a guy here you’ve never met before and who wouldn’t know you if he saw you, and whatever the reason it’s unimportant enough to ditch him and hang out with me?”

Batman just laughed and smiled and stared into my eyes.  “That about sums it up,” he said.  “Look, Kevin, the reason why Mrs. B and I split up is because after you were gone from my life, I realized something I never knew before.  Our friendship meant a lot more to me than I ever realized, and in ways I never realized.”  His perpetual grin slowly drained from his face and where just a few minutes prior he had been up-beat and joyful, suddenly he was somber, his eyes were moistening and welling up and there was a quiver in his voice.  “After we stopped being friends and I realized what I’d lost and the part I played in it, I also realized that there was a hole in my heart because of it.  Over time, I realized that what I was missing, wasn’t just your friendship.  I had been in love with you, and I didn’t even realize it.”

With that he reached across the table and gingerly placed his hand on top of mine and looked deeply into my eyes for my reaction.  I was frozen in place.  I could barely feel his warm, soft hand on top of mine.  I couldn’t form any words with my mouth and for a moment it seemed as if we were the only two people in the room.  The music was gone.  The voices that had been straining to be heard over the din were gone.  There was nothing but the sound of my own heart beating in my ears as I struggled to process what had just happened.

And then just like that, it all came rushing back.  The noise, the vibrations, the physical sense of all the people around us.  I blinked, and a single tear fell from my eye and ran down my face.

“Please say something,” he spoke.  “Whatever you have to say, I can take it.  I just need to hear your reaction.”

“I- I never thought–  I mean- I…  I was in love with you too.  It’s part of why the situation was so difficult for me living with you and your family.  I wanted to be friends and I wanted to be accepted by your family so that we could continue to be together in the only way I ever thought we would, but I secretly loved you and was so jealous of all that they had of you, that I could not have.”

There was a long pause as we both just stared into each other’s eyes, not knowing what would come next.  And then I spoke, but the words seemed like they were someone else’s.  I had never imagined this moment could be possible so I certainly had no idea how I could or would react.  “Would you like to go back to my apartment to talk?  I think the peace and quiet would do us both some good.”

I opened the front door of my apartment and looked around, glad that the cleaning lady had been in.  Stepping aside, I held the door as Batman walked past me to explore.  I closed the door behind him and when I turned around, he was right there, looking me in the eyes, and he put his hands on my shoulders.  “I don’t think I want to talk,” he said, as he pushed me against the door and tenderly kissed my lips.   He was so unashamed, uninhibited it took me by surprise.

I’d never done this before.  I’d never brought a man who, for these intents and purposes, was a stranger back to my home.  I’d never immediately launched into a physical encounter barely after the door was locked.  I’d never locked lips (or anything else) with a friend.  In fact, I’d never locked lips (or anything else) with any man, ever, before in my life.  Of course, I had fantasized about it many times before.  I had known for some time that it was something that appealed to me, but it had only been a year or two since I’d finally accepted and stopped denying my sexuality, and thus far, I had never physically acted on those desires.

Batman on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what he was doing.  He started out tenderly, gently, almost like he knew this was a first for me.  And then his kisses became more intense, more emphatic, and before I knew it, I was responding in kind.  I reached out for him and wrapped my arms around his back.  My right hand was on the back of his neck and my left hand was around his waist as I held on to him almost for dear life, afraid this moment wasn’t real, that it would end suddenly.  I tilted my head into his kiss and as I parted my lips to kiss him harder I felt his soft, warm tongue slide between them and press against mine.

I felt his hands pressing my shoulders against the door as he dove into my mouth and then I felt him press away from me just a few inches as his hands slid down to the center of my chest and grab the placket of my button down shirt.  In one swift moment he ripped his hands outward, popping every button off my shirt exposing my chest and abdomen to him.  It was every bit as erotic as I dreamed it would be.

As I heard the buttons bouncing off the walls and along the floor, I felt his strong arms wrap around my waist under my shirt and then, while continuing to kiss me passionately, I felt him lift me off my feet and carry me over to the end of the couch where he put me down and shoved me over the arm and down on to the cushions.  And then, with one swift motion he crossed his arms in front of him, grabbed hold of the hem of his pull-over shirt and slipped it right off and over his head, revealing the rock hard abs and perfectly toned, smooth chest that I knew were under there just waiting to come out.  He still wore his military dog tags which nestled nicely between his hard, brown nipples.  And as he looked down at me and grinned, I inhaled sharply, taking in this beautiful specimen of a man that stood before me.

And then he pounced!  He climbed on top of the couch, on top of me and began running his tongue all over my upper body.  My smooth, pale chest and abs were his for the taking, and take them he did.  As he was licking, kissing, nibbling and stroking my body, I could feel my erection beginning.  Just a slight heat at first, but soon, it was pressing against my Calvin Klein’s and my jeans and he could feel it pressing against his chest.  As he was kissing my six pack and sticking his tongue in my belly button, he looked up at me, made eye contact and smiled.  He opened his mouth wide and bared his teeth.  I was excited and nervous all at the same time, not knowing where this was going.  But it was perfectly clear, very quickly, what my friend had in mind.  He tilted his head down and grabbed hold of my belt, the part, in front of the buckle, with his teeth and began to wrestle it free.  He pulled the strap a few inches out of the buckle until it formed a small bump on my waist and then he grabbed it with his left hand, pulling the strap the rest of the way free.

My cock was rigid by now and was pressing uncomfortably against the soft fabric of my briefs and I couldn’t wait for it to be freed.  Batman feverishly worked and within a few seconds he’d unfastened my belt and the button on my pants waist and pulled the zipper down.  Then he reached up and put his fingers inside the waist band of my underwear at the corner of either hipbone and cocked his head slightly.  Without saying a word he conveyed his intent and just as he tugged on my clothes I used the slight leverage of my feet on arm of the couch to raise my ass off the couch cushions making it possible for him to pull them down and away from my now fully engorged penis.  Thwack!  As he was standing up and pulling my lower body attire the rest of the way down to my feet, my erection snapped out of the restraints of my underwear and slapped into my quivering abdomen.  Batman began to laugh as he was struggling to pull my pants all the way off, not remembering I still had my shoes on.

Laughing as well, I sat up and grabbed his wrists.  As I slammed my body back against the cushions I pulled him back over the arm of the couch and down on top of me.  I doubled over slightly as he came down on top of my solid member laying out on my stomach, but I didn’t care about the pain.  I wanted to be in contact with his hot flesh!  Again, I placed my hand on the back of his head and pulled his mouth down onto mine.  This time there was no time for tenderness.  I needed to feel his skin against mine.  I needed to touch his warm lips and probing tongue and for a few minutes I explored every part of his mouth, his chin and his neck and shoulders.  And then I became the forgetful one as I found some leverage and pushed to roll over on top of him, not remembering that we were on the couch and there was no where to roll to.

My downstairs neighbors probably had a start when they heard the thud on their ceiling, and for a moment I had to stop and laugh at the idea that they had no knowledge of what was happening right above their heads.  And then, there we were, Batman splayed out on the floor, pinned beneath my body.  My pants were still around my ankles and the restriction that provided had me straddling my friend, with my feet between his knees and my knees on either side of his hips.  Then I felt his own erection pressed against the inside of my naked left thigh.  He resisted slightly and I gently took hold of his wrists and pinned them above his head on the floor.  I leaned down to kiss his face and made eye contact with this beautiful creature beneath me.  I stopped abruptly and just stared into his eyes.

“What?” he asked, slightly out of breath but sounding worried.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.  I just–  I guess, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long and now that it’s here…  I just don’t want to ruin it.  I want it to be special.  Meaningful.  You know?”

He smiled so tenderly at me.  “I know,” he said.  “Here.  Get up,” he told me as he began to sit up on his own.  I climbed awkwardly off of him and sat, bare-assed, on the couch.  Batman sat up on the floor and tuned to face me.  He placed his hands on my exposed thighs and looked into my eyes.  He just looked, tenderly at me for several seconds before he said, “If you don’t want to do this, I understand.  I think it would be really beautiful though.”  I smiled slightly.  “Besides,” he said as he ran the back of his hand along my waning erection, which jumped lightly at his touch, “You do seem like you want to do this.”

I smiled.  “I do.  I really do.  Let’s just…  Let’s just make it count. OK?”

He didn’t answer.  He just smiled sweetly and then looked down at the floor.  Slowly he reached down and lifted my piled up pants from the top of my left shoe and pulled the end of the lace.  The laces came untied and he loosened them before he pulled my shoe off.  Then he gathered the material of my pants in his right hand while gently lifting my leg out of the pants leg with his left.  When my leg was free of the fabric, he used his right hand to remove my sock.  After doing the same with my right leg he uncrossed his legs and effortlessly stood up from the floor in one muscular, fluid motion.  Standing in front of me naked from the waist up, he tugged his own shoes and socks off and kicked them to the side before extending his hand to me, palm up.

I reached out and placed my hand in his and he lightly supported my weight as I stood up from the couch now completely naked and with my half mast sicking straight out in front of me and rubbing slightly on his still shrouded crotch.  “Which way is the bedroom?” he asked.  I turned to the side, took his hand in mine and led him, silently, to the bedroom door.  The sheets were fresh and the bed beautifully made, thanks, again, to the cleaning lady.  After I opened the door, Batman silently walked past me and led me to the bed.  He delicately pulled back the linens and then guided me to the edge of the bed to sit.  As I sat facing him I watched as he began to loosen the belt on his own jeans.  He unfastened his belt and his pants and slowly began to push them to the floor.

As his own solid cock sprung from his clothes I again took a sharp breath.  I’d never been in this situation before.  I’d never been in the same room with a real live hard erection that wasn’t my own, and never been about to do what I now knew was going to happen, and was certain it was what I wanted.  He stepped out of his jeans and took a step toward me, motioning with his hands for me to climb into the bed and lay back.

I carefully slid to the far side of the bed and lay my head on the pillows.  My breath was shallow and quick and I could feel the nerves rising in my stomach.  This was really happening and I was ready!  As I felt the mattress sink at the weight of Batman climbing on, I closed my eyes and waited for what was to come.  I sensed, more than felt him hovering over my hard-on and then I felt the light, moist touch of his tongue starting at the base of my cock where it meets with my balls and working it’s way slowly up to the tip where he licked the opening that was already releasing pre-cum.  And then I felt him take my cock in his hand and lift it up to his lips, while the other hand began to lightly fondle and squeeze my nuts.  Suddenly, I felt a wet warmth as my dick was engulfed in his mouth.  Slowly at first he ran his mouth, up and down, up and down running his tongue over the sensitive under-side of my engorged tip.  I couldn’t believe how incredible it felt.  Just as I knew it would, it felt like the most perfect, natural thing in the world.  Not even coming close to the sensations I’d experienced in my few previous encounters with the opposite sex.  This was as God had intended for me.

My friend continued his ministrations and I could feel my ball sack tightening as he continued to take all of my eight inches into his mouth and throat.  He was clearly quite skilled in this area, so to speak, and as my body began to stiffen and quiver, he stopped his motion, with my erection deep in his throat and began a light sucking motion that I had never experienced the likes of before!  “I’m gonna cum!” I whispered, as that was the most sound I could produce.  I expected he would pull my cock from his mouth and let me shoot my load, but instead he kept my dick deep in the back of his throat and increased the intensity of his suction.

“Unh-  uh, Ahh.  Ahhhh! AHHHHHHHH!!!” I cried out as I felt the cum leaving my body and shooting deep into his throat, nine, ten, eleven, twelve times I felt my entire body convulse as I shot load after load into his belly.  When it was done, and I was completely still, he slowly began to extract my now softening penis from his mouth, keeping his lips tight while sucking, licking and pulling every drop of cum from my spent member.    When he was done, he looked up at me and smiled.

“How was that?” he asked, knowing what the obvious response would be.

My chest and abdomen heaved as I struggled to stabilize my breathing.  “Hmmm,” was all I could muster at first.  “Tha-  That was incredible.”  A few more breaths, “Best I’ve ever experienced, for sure.”

“Well, hold on to your hat, sweet cheeks,” he told me, “‘Cause the fun has only just begun!”

I had no idea I had so much story to tell.  Stay tuned for Batman’s Return, Pt. 2, coming soon!

Shaking Things Up

I’ve never really claimed to be clairvoyant or to otherwise have ESPN, but from time to time things happen where I feel like I could predict the future.

Actually, I should take a step back.  When I was a child of roughly 11 years old we had an event at our family church.  There was a traveling minister that the pastor had brought in, and on the last night of his little conference, he asked for the parents to let him pray over their children before we were sent off to the children’s services for the evening.  I choose not to make a statement one way or the other about my beliefs of what this man had to offer.  It would be an entirely separate post unto itself.  But suffice it to say that I do not imagine that he was a complete quack, though perhaps took some things over board.

“I’d like for the children to line up here, in the front of the auditorium,” he said, “and I’ll hold my hand over them and pray for them.  If the Lord gives me a special message for or about any of them I’ll share that.”

We all went to the front of the church as asked and lined up for him to pray for us.  As I recall it, and we’ve already established that my memory is less than exact, he held his hand above our heads, one by one and praying for us alternately in tongues and in English.  There were six or eight children before me, two of whom were the pastors children, but nothing happened with any of them.  And then he came to me.  And he froze.  And he said, “The gift of prophesy.  God has given the gift of prophesy to this young man.”

Boy, was I excited at the prospect of being able to predict the future.  What a wonderful gift, i thought.  Naturally, Vengeful Mother was right there to shit on it.

“It’ll only happen if you stay in the church and honor God’s will.”  She might as well have said the rest of what she was thinking, “in the way that I see fit.

For years after that I lived with the simultaneous thrill of possibly being able to “predict” the future, and the fear of not measuring up to God’s (Vengeful Mother‘s) expectations.  Eventually, I reached a point of not wanting the gift if I had to “be good enough” for it.  I wanted to be “good enough” just the way I was.  I found myself being unwilling, or afraid to experience this “gift of the spirit”.  And yet, in the back of my mind, I repeatedly heard this minister, “God has given the gift of prophesy to this young man.”  The minister didn’t mention any conditions.  Just “God has given….”

I’ve experienced a lot of instances where I felt like “I’ve been here before.” or “I’ve seen this before.”  Lot’s of people would tell you , “Oh that’s just deja vu.  It happens to everybody.  Here’s the biochemical explanation for that….”  But to me, it doesn’t just feel like “Oh it’s just deja vu.”  It feels like more than that.  It feels like more than just an after-image, or a synapse misfire.  It feels real.  It feels like something I already knew about. And, it’s happened a few times.

Nearly ten years ago, Vengeful Mother, told me about a car accident that the parents (married for over 50 years) of D-Lite‘s (Vengeful Mother‘s best friend’s) husband had been in.  They were both left in comas immediately following the accident.  The husband of the couple died of internal injuries a few hours after they’d been admitted to the hospital and the wife was still in a coma but had broken both of her legs and was really banged up, but was expected to live.

I asked Vengeful Mother, “What do you think will happen when she wakes up?”

“What do you mean?” VM asked me.

“Well,” I said, “I know that this is kind of mellow-dramatic, but I know it’s been known to happen where people in a situation like this are heartbroken over their loss and end up dying for no reason other than that.”

VM expressed that she couldn’t answer to that and we’d just have to wait and see.  Two days later, when I got to work, I got an e-mail from VM that said something along the lines of, “You have always been very spiritually attuned, even if we don’t really realize it until later on…  D-Lite‘s Mother-in-law woke up from her coma yesterday afternoon.  After they confirmed that she was relatively stable, they informed her of her husband’s death.  Shortly before midnight she went to sleep.  She never woke up.”  There was some mention of her not wanting to go on without her husband.

In that instance, I didn’t even realize I’d had that certain sensation, but I did, in fact, know that this would happen.  Over the years I have had hit and miss experiences to help me learn to trust that feeling.

Most recently was the morning I woke up having dreamed that my Grandfather had died and about the result of his death.  I hoped I’d be wrong and as the time wore on, I began to feel like maybe I was wrong, and then I got the call.  Fifteen hours after I woke up from my dream, I was informed that Papa had just died.  I had known it would happen.  I wanted to be wrong, but I knew it would happen and I wasn’t surprised when I was informed.

I woke up yesterday morning, with one of those feelings.  It’s been nearly 48 hours since I had the dream and things are looking up…

But, the night, before last, I dreamt, that at some point, during the day whilst I was away from my home, the Bay Area was rocked by a six point something earthquake.  In my dream the shaking lasted more than 30 seconds, which, for those who aren’t familiar, usually guarantees considerable damage.  For instance the Loma Prieta Earthquake of 1989 was a magnitude 6.9 and lasted only 15-20 seconds but did billions of dollars worth of damage.

Now I don’t say there WILL BE an earthquake of such significance anytime soon.  I certainly had no indication in the dream of what the date and time was.  I just know that I woke up from the dream feeling apprehensive and relieved, because while the earthquake was serious and real in my dream, here was a minimal amount of damage done…  At least in my own world.  I can’t actually speak for the Bay Area as a whole.

At any rate, I didn’t write this to be alarmist, I don’t expect anyone to believe it.  I’m not sure I believe it myself.  I said that over the years I’d learned to trust that feeling.  That may be an overstatement.  Over the years I’ve learned not to discount that feeling.  So. I hope I’m wrong, and I probably am, but in the meantime, every time I feel a shake, every time I hear an odd rumble, I’m looking up.  I’m checking fluid levels in bottles and glasses for vibration.  I’m checking my hanging Philodendron, “Phil,” for sway.  And I’m watching the surest barometer of all, Scared Kitty who will freeze in place, and then coming running for comfort and safety.  I check all these things to make sure I’m imagining it all.

Eventually, the feeling will subside.  I’ll lower my defenses…  And that ultimately, will be the point of no return, the point when the next big earthquake will hit.  Until then, I just wait for my premonition, to be proved.  It has to happen eventually, right?

Getting “In The Game”

I was a painfully lonely child.  Even while most kids with siblings have built in best friends, my sibs hardly wanted anything to do with me as a child.  I desperately needed for someone to love me and want me around.  Ex Con Older Brother and CPA Sis are only two years apart and always had more in common with each other than either had with me.  For reasons I may never be able to understand, I wasn’t really ever able to make friends with people my own age, and so I spent a lot of time after school and on the week-ends being alone.

“Mommy,” I used to say to Vengeful Mother, “I’m bored.”

“So find yourself something to do,” she would respond.  “It’s not my responsibility to entertain you.”  Even Vengeful Mother didn’t want to spend time with me.

I rarely ever considered the idea of having a little brother or sister.  I couldn’t remember when my parents were married and so for me to have a little brother or sister would require someone to have sex outside of marriage and, well, that of course was out of the question!  So while, from time to time, I wished for a built in best friend like my siblings had in each other, I never really seriously considered the desire.  So I was painfully lonely.

I used to overhear ECOB And CPA Sis talk about “The Game”, and I had no idea what they were talking about.  Finally one day I learned that they had an imaginary world, known simply as “The Game”, wherein they pretended to be other people, with other lives.  Generally older than they really were, with spouses and families and friends that didn’t really exist.  And I wanted in.  They, of course wouldn’t allow it, so as usual I was out in the cold to play my own game.  So, play my game I did.

richardsimmonsI used to have great fun playing my game.  As a very young child I was completely enamored with Wonder Woman, but of course I was a boy and I knew I was not permitted to want to be a girl.  (In truth, I didn’t really want to be a girl, I just didn’t have a lot of imagination.)  So I pretended I was Wonder Man.  (I never knew there really was a Wonder Man character.) I imagined I had the little red boots with the white stripe and the slight heel.  As to the rest of my costume, well, as I just said, I didn’t have much of an imagination but I had to “masculinize” Wonder Woman’s costume for myself…  So imagine, Richard Simmons… feeling very patriotic…  That’s pretty much what my imaginary Wonder Man costume looked like, complete with the golden lasso, bullet proof cuffs and boomerang crown naturally!  Of course if I’d known then, what I know now…  I might’ve imagined myself looking a little more like this:

wondermanI used to run around the yard outside our after school care ladies house kicking my heels into my butt cheeks (because that was how Wonder Woman ran so fast, dontchaknow) and making the ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch sound whenever I’d “jump great distances.”  This, by the way was the same sound I made while “performing great feats of strength”, when I pretended I was The Six Million Dollar Man.  ECOB and CPA Sis pretended not to know me.

I used to love MacGyver.  I hadn’t taken any significant science classes at that point (and come to find out I’d suck big harry nuts at science) but I thought he was the shiz.  Plus, he was blond.  Something I always wanted to be but never was… Not naturally anyway.  He was attractive.  I could tell because CPA Sis and Vengeful Mother both really liked him.  I always got a happy feeling when I’d see him on the screen.  So at one point I wanted to be MacGyver.  (As a side bar:  With the resurgence of “old time” TV shows lately (Bionic Woman, Knight Rider, 90210) they should totally make a new MacGyver.  I’m thinking Ryan Reynolds or maybe that guy from Brittney Spears’ “Womanizer” video (shirtless at all times of course.) I’d do ‘im– er, watch him.)

I always liked The Facts of Life, and, go figure, Jo Polniaczek was my favorite girl.  I knew I was supposed to like girls and of the options, she was the least girlie, black or fat.  Now don’t get me wrong.  I always liked Jo, for real, but if I was supposed to like a girl, she was the one.  And at the time I thought I was sincere.

So for a while there, “in the game” I was MacGyver and I was married to Jo Polniaczek, living in Mrs. G’s house and sharing the household responsibilities with the other girls and their husbands (Yes.  The four of them all still lived in the house.)

For a brief period of time in 1988 I even pretended I was Mario Van Peebles, a la “Sonny Spoon” and I was married to Olympic Figure Skater Debi Thomas.  I know they say that “Once you go black, you never go back”, but this phase didn’t last very long and when it was over, it was all white guys from then on, for me.

Eventually, Ex Con Older Brother outgrew “The Game”, and CPA Sis wasn’t ready to call it quits, so suddenly, I was old enough to play.  I still remember, from time to time, whenever one of us would learn something new about someone, or find a new celebrity or character we liked, we’d change “The Game”.  At one point CPA Sis and I were both infatuated with MacGyver at the same time.

“In the game, I’m MacGyver,” I said.

“You can’t be.  I want to be married to him,” was her reply.

“Hmmm.  Ok.  Then….  I’m his twin brother GyMacver.”  I replied.  (I don’t think I really fucked with the name like that, but who knows.

On other occasions:

“In the game, MacGyver is sitting right here next to me with his arm around me helping me with my homework.”  Guess which of us said that.

The worst was when I was spending the night at my friends house (we’ll call him the Pickle) once and I thought it would be cool to let him in on the fun.  I told him about the game and that in the game I was MacGyver and I was married to The Bionic Woman, and then pretended to kiss her.  The Pickle and I were lying on the floor in his parents room playing a board game, (Life, I think) and when I finished kissing Jamie Sommers and looked back at him, he looked at me like I had three heads.  Fortunately, about three seconds later, he forgot all about my game.

He’d been playing with an electrical cord with his toes while we were playing the board game and suddenly his mother’s iron came crashing down on his head, point first.  As the blood gushed forth and down over his forehead, no longer was the stupidity of my imaginary game at hand, and never was it mentioned again!

There was a point in the late 80s where I also fantasized that I was Officer Tom Hansen as played by Johnny Depp.  This one worked particularly well, because I could go to my school and learn my lessons while pretending to be this cool, older, sexier guy that girls swooned over.  There’s one episode of 21 Jump Street that has always stood out for me.  Tom decided to become a Big Brother as in Big Brothers and Big Sisters of America, but he was ultimately rejected.  It turned out that Doug Penhall had discouraged the BBBS from accepting Tom, for one reason or another…  Hey!  I was 12.  I can’t be expected to remember ALL of the details.

In late 1988 or early 1989, I had become enamored of the “Patch and Kayla” story on Days of our Lives (which I’d been introduced to by CPA Sis.)  I didn’t especially think much of Steve, but I thought Kayla (Mary Beth Evans) was awesome.  Since I had no imagination, I decided I wanted to be Steve so I could be with Kayla.  I knew CPA Sis wouldn’t be impressed with that so I didn’t tell her.  I continued to pretend I was pretending to be MacGyver because that was acceptable to her, but really I was pretending I was Patch.  (I guess this was the beginning of my career pretending to be something acceptable to my family.)  I remember the day in the late ’80s when I realized that something was not right.  CPA Sis was 16 or 17 years old and her heart hadn’t really seemed into it when I’d talk about “The Game.”  One day I said, “You don’t really want to play ‘The Game’ anymore, do you?”

“Not really,” she said.  “I’m kinda too old for it.”

And that was the end of “The Game”…  Or was it?

I’m a little ashamed to admit that I continued to play “The Game” alone, well into my 20s.  When Party of Five came out, I was head over heals for Scott Wolf/Bailey Salinger.  I wanted to be him.  God only knows why he was the preferred character for me.  I was certainly closer in age to Charlie Salinger, but it was all about Bailey.  I had a whole fantasy worked out.  I was Bailey Salinger, and (as was often the case in those days) I had an infant child which was the product of a one night stand with a girl I met at a party.  She had died during child birth (as they always did, ’cause who needs the girl around) and I was raising my child on my own (the only way I’d want to.)

When I moved to California, and had my first job with The Soul Crushing Telecom Company for whom Green M&M still works, I met a guy.  His name was Scott and he was beautiful.  I wanted him, but mostly I just wanted to be friends with him.  My fantasy  was that Scott and I (Bailey Salinger) were such good friends that we hung out together all of the time.

One day Scott didn’t come to work.  I found out that he had always wanted to ride his motor cycle to LA and back and so he took a Friday off to do this.  In my imagination, I came home from work to find him in my apartment.  He’d gotten halfway to LA and realized he wasn’t having any fun ’cause I wasn’t there, and he turned around and came back.  He couldn’t wait to tell me all this and how much he wanted to be with me.  That was the first night I allowed myself to unabashedly fantasize about having sex with a man.

To this day, when I’m feeling particularly lonely, or when I’ve got something on my mind that I need to hash out with someone, or when I’m horny and I need a boyfriend…  I find myself leaning toward “The Game.”  I’ve found it to be like an addiction.  I have a physical need for it.  Honestly!  Sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m the only person in the house and that I can talk to myself all I want, I’m just talking to myself.  No one is going to answer me.  It’s not that I have to pretend I’ve got this whole alternate life going on anymore.  But sometimes I imagine both sides of the conversation/encounter and play it out.  It’s not that there’s anything wrong with this, it’s just that it’d be real easy for me to slip back into “The Game” if I let myself and I don’t want to do that.  I want real relationships.

So, yeah.  I was lonely a lot growing up, and despite my knowledge that getting a little brother would mean “unacceptable” behavior on my mother’s part I always wanted someone I could be close with.  I finally got my “little brother in 2000, when CPA Sis married Mr. Fixit who is three years my junior.  Unfortunately, my “little brother” was going to be living 1800 miles away (3000 miles now) and is nearly six inches taller than I.  Very funny God!  You’ve finally answered my prayers and my “little brother” is bigger than I.

—————————————————————————————-

About a year ago, I grew very tired of being lonely and set about looking for ways to find and make new friends.  The ancestral version of this blog was part of that plan, but that didn’t come until later and when it did, it didn’t work out the way I had intended.  I decided that I could make an effort toward meeting people, and perhaps make myself feel a little bit better by finding some sort of volunteer work I could do.  I looked into Habitat for Humanity.  I really enjoy things that have tangible results to show and what better way to have tangible results than to build something, but their needs and my availability didn’t really seem to match up.

I found myself low on further ideas for additional opportunities so I did an internet search and came across a website called Volunteer Match and I found a number of listings for mentoring.  Nothing sounded familiar to me and I felt like that was too big of a deal to enter into lightly, but it reminded me of the episode of 21 Jump Street.  I remember watching that episode in silence while secretly being tremendously affected by it.  Of course part of it was, how could I not want Johnny Depp to pay attention to me?  But mostly it was just my secret longing for anyone to really care about and pay attention to me.  To make me the center of their universe, even if it was only for a few hours a week.  I was hurting while I watched it because I was thinking, I could really use someone like that in my life.  But I couldn’t ask for it.

And while I was remembering that it hit me.  I could be a Big Brother.  I could do for some kid or kids what no one ever did for me.  I could be a positive influence in their lives.  So I went to their website and I applied.  It wasn’t meant to be at that time.  There was an obstacle that I had to over come before I could be a Big Brother, but it was a blessing in disguise.  It gave me a year to think it over and make sure, was this really something I wanted to do?  Yes!  Am I really ready to handle this?  Fuck if I know, but I imagine it’s a little like parenthood.  You’re never ready, you just do it.

Today, I had my first interview with the Big Brothers and Big Sisters of the Bay Area.  It was nerve racking, though not as much so as I thought it would be.  The match specialist was fabulous and made me feel very much at ease.  She seemed very non-judgmental and more than once expressed her appreciation of my candor.  It was actually easier than I thought it would be to tell her I’m gay, but I thought it was important to establish that up front.

Now begins the arduous wait while they go through their process.  Tomorrow, she’ll send her reference checks to CPA Sis, Green M&M, Eve and Douche Bag.  I would have just as soon not included him, but as I recall the application asks for your immediate supervisor as one of the references.  The good thing is that DB doesn’t do confrontation, so I can rest relatively assured that he’ll say good things about me and not hurt my chances.  I don’t know what he would possibly have based this statement on but when I told him I would be leaving early today for the interview he said, “That’s great!  You’d make a great Big Brother.”  While it’s nice to hear, I don’t feel particularly like that’s praise worth it’s salt coming from him.  Anyway, while they wait for the references to be sent back, they’ll run my background check.  The only thing they’ll find is the DUI I received on January 18, 2003 and they’re already aware of that.  (This is the obstacle from a year ago.)  They can’t officially match me with a “Little” until after it’s been five years, so I have a couple months to wait.  I was informed that being gay, it will take longer to match me, anyway.  Apparently, there are a lot of parent/guardians out there who are ignorant and fearful of homosexuality and have specified that they do not want their children paired up with a homosexual.  It’s unfortunate, as it’s the “Little” that they’re hurting, but it is their prerogative.  I can’t say I’m surprised by the likely delay, but it’s still sad to hear.  Meanwhile, if I’m accepted (God, I hope I’m accepted.  What would it say about me if I’m not ‘good enough’ to work with underprivileged children) they do offer some training for me to take which will help prepare me to be a “Big”.

I’ll be honest.  I’m terrified.  My stomach is in knots and my heart is in my throat, just writing about it.  But it is important to me.  I can’t wait to be able to have a positive impact on some boy’s life.  To teach him that there are people out there who want nothing more than his health, safety and happiness.  To teach him that no matter what shit he’s going through there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel.  And, God forbid, if he’s been through some serious problems (i.e. molestation, physical abuse) to teach him that not everyone wants to treat him like that.  That there is good in the world and that he deserves to experience it.

I can hardly wait!