"Coming Out" of the Laundry Closet

I have an odd "coming out" story. It makes me laugh now when I think about it, but at the time it was rather horrifying.

I had spent many years working through my gay issues. As I've mentioned before, I was raised Mormon and you simply can't be gay and Mormon. It was an extremely turbulent time of my life. But, finally I had come to accept myself as being gay and I was okay with it.

I had rented some gay-themed movies. Now these weren't dirty movies like Raiders of the Lost Arse and Shaving Ryan's Privates. They were simply gay-themed movies I had rented from Blockbuster.

My sister was coming down to visit for a few days. She had a key to my house and was going to arrive during the day while I was at work. I vividly remember looking at the DVDs on my dresser and thinking how I better put them somewhere where she wouldn't see them. Being the sneaky devil that I am, I buried them in the dirty clothes in my laundry basket.

Now, my sister has never done my laundry before. Why she chose to on this particular day is still a mystery. I suppose she arrived at my house and decided to do something nice for me.

You can imagine my horror when I arrived home to neatly stacked piles of clean laundry on the back of the couch. First my left eye started to twitch uncontrollably and then I wet myself. My mind was racing as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom to change my clothes.

When I saw my laundry basket I had a glimmer of hope. There were still some dirty clothes in it, and a quick check revealed gay videos still hidden under my dirty jeans.

My sister didn't say anything while she was visiting. I did, however, receive a phone call from her several days later. Of course she found the videos and had been stewing over the whole situation for days. Finally she couldn't take it any longer and called me up (and out.)

I confirmed her suspicions. It was actually somewhat of a relief. I suppose there was all kinds of speculation already rampant in my family. After all, any Mormon male over the age of 21.5 years who isn't married is either a homosexual or is a masturbator (can't get married until you stop "abusing" yourself.)

My sister and I had several discussion on the matter over the next several weeks. She of course quoted the standard Mormon positions and ways to "overcome" the problem. I assured her I was familiar with every single word ever written on the subject and had explored every avenue suggested by the "experts" on overcoming same-sex attraction.

We finally had to agree to disagree. This was followed by a several week long "cooling off" period. I think sometimes after the initial flurry of emotion associated with "coming out," people need some time to come to terms with the situation. We shouldn't expect our family and friends to immediately embrace something that has likely taken ourselves years to accept.

To this day, I've never felt the need to gather my family together and declare my gayness. That is important to some, but I've never been so inclined. I told my sister I was fine with her sharing the news with anyone she felt she wanted to. Anyone who doesn't know it by now must be daft.

I still feel accepted by my loved ones. I think everyone has embraced Craig as part of the family. I'm sure there are those that are certain I will not go to the Celestial Kingdom. But, I hear the Pride celebration there isn't all that great anyway.

It's odd to think that I was "outed" by my dirty underwear. But, as usual, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I Can't Wait!

When I was young I couldn't wait to be old enough to have my bedtime at 9:30 p.m. instead of 8:30 p.m.

I couldn't wait to go to Jr. High.

Getting my driver's license was an eternity away.

Oh, how I just wanted to graduate from high school.

If I only owned a car.

Would I ever get to visit Europe?

Graduating from college.....will it ever happen?

A job! That's what I need.

If only I made more money.

All of these highly anticipated events came and went, but not one changed who I am. Some brought short-term happiness, but none transformed my life into a state of bliss.

On the other hand, today I got to hold Craig's hand while I drove him to school. Right now Max is curled up on my lap. Sunday we ate cake with Alasdair and Josh. Saturday I drank chocolate milk while watching the Peach Days parade. Last week I got to sing with the Salt Lake Choral Artists.

Now those things.....bliss.

Public Displays

I'm pretty neutral on the subject of Public Displays of Affection. Being a bit on the shy side, I generally tend to avoid anything too outrageous, but if others want to practice "public love" then more power to them. I do think two guys need to be a little careful as there are still many people that "don't care much for them homosexuals."

So yesterday I arrived at Choral Artists' rehearsal and parked next to Craig who was waiting in his truck. It had been a rough couple of days for both of us and I hadn't seen him all day so we got out of our vehicles and hugged. It was a much needed hug and went a little longer than the normally accepted man-on-man hug duration.

Of course all the other 200 members of Choral Artists were arriving and parking their cars at that same time and I'm sure there were more than a few raised eyebrows.

From the perspective of the onlookers, here is how (in my mind) the whole thing played out:

Pearl (elderly soprano): "Oh how sweet, young love....wait. Is that...no it couldn't be. Wait, it is. Two boys! Oh my goodness. Oh dear, oh dear, where is my bible..."

Margaret (haggard alto): "Oh look, one of them must have just received some really bad news. Death in the family? Cancer? What a nice friend to comfort him like that. I'm going to bring him a casserole."

Randy (bitter homosexual tenor): "Pleassse, (lispy) get a room."

Darrell (unhappily married bass): "Look honey, a couple of fags. What is this world coming to? Disgusting." "Say, that shorter one is kinda cute. Strong arms, nice ass......." "Oh, sorry honey! I'll be right there."

The End

(This is Davey's first theatrical work. He graduated from Utah State University with a degree in Journalism. Davey hails from Brigham City and likes to hunt, fish and play football. He would like to thank his parents, Craig, Max and Jesus for all their love and support.)

A Quick Rant

I hesitate to post this entry because it is not really the tone I want to have in my blog. But I'm going to do it anyway and maybe I'll delete it later once I settle down.

I take my relationship with Craig very seriously. Though we don't enjoy the same rights as a traditionally "married" couple, I think we both agree a piece of paper wouldn't make our relationship any more committed.

I have utter disdain for those who proclaim to be in a relationship but then don't act accordingly. I'm disgusted to hear about people who betray the trust of their loved ones. As far as I'm concerned, physical or mental abuse of a spouse should get life in prison (with torture every other Wednesday.) Cheating on your partner...death penalty.

Serious relationships aren't for everyone, and that's fine. But don't drag another person into a committed relationship that you aren't going to live up to. I'm amazed at the selfishness some people display.

Am I the perfect partner? Husband? Wife? (Whatever) Definitely not. Just ask Craig. But I feel I have a strong sense of what is appropriate and what is not. And quite frankly, I look forward to many years of practice getting better.

Now I must go run around the block, or something.

Jet Skiing-Part II

A week ago we went up to Logan again for another jet skiing adventure. It was really a nice day with perfect temperatures and a great sunset.

Above you can see Josh making a splash just as the light faded. Luckily he is in silhouette since he insisted on jet skiing naked. Well actually he was wearing just a life jacket......safety first.

It was one of those days that in the middle of January you look back on and remember the warm air, the clear sky, the angry yellow jackets, the look on Alasdair's face when as I whipped him around in the tube. We also shouldn't forget getting stuck in the underwater weed forest and Craig and his cattail.

Overall, a fine day. I liked it a lot.

Farewell Summer

It's a lazy Saturday morning. Craig is out mowing the lawn, Max is sprawled on the floor, Daisy is sunning herself in the backyard. I am walking around the house with my crazy morning hair and trying to get motivated.

Today is supposed to be 100 degrees, tomorrow 82 and Monday 64. Though I used to love the summer and the heat, I find myself more partial to the spring and fall. Warms days and cool nights, that's the thing for me.

I see I've been a bit of a slacker lately posting blog entries. It's been a bit of a challenging week and I tend to not feel like writing when I'm not feeling perky. I will try to do better.

So I'm off to shower and then we go to Logan to help Brent move. I need to hurry before Craig comes in and yells at me for being lazy......and then stares at my hair.

Sing a Song of the Speedo

It seems like every time I turn on the TV there is some guy prancing around in a speedo. Now, granted it's mostly the Olympics on my TV these days, but still.

You have to be quite comfortable with yourself to slip into this mere suggestion of clothing. Especially knowing your mostly naked self will be viewed by a billion people on the telly. (Many in high definition, I might add.)

I suppose if anyone should be allowed to wear a speedo it would be an Olympic athlete. However, I assure you during our recent trip to an Italian beach there wasn't an Olympic athlete to be seen. Apparently the official swimwear for Italy is the speedo, the skimpier the better. After a few hours on that beach, I felt I needed an eyewash station.

Those Italian men are a hairy-legged bunch. At first I couldn't figure out why everyone was wearing fur pants to the beach, but then I realized......

Anyway, it's not just the tiny swim wear I find odd. It seems every other male Olympic athlete has some sort of too-tight outfit on. Don't forget the runners, wrestlers and gymnasts. What's with those tight little gymnast pants? I don't think I should be able to take one glance at a gymnast and know which way his pommel horse is pointed. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned.

And finally, I've always wondered about the swimmers shaving every square inch of their bodies. Does that really make them faster? I guess looking like a giant 10-year-old boy may have its advantages. After all, I've never seen an Italian male swimmer sporting an Olympic medal.

Well, I'm off to shave my legs before I take a shower. I'm hoping to take 3/100ths of a second off my best time.