Overdue

I had somewhat of a feeling, but I don't think I had, or have, much of a grasp concerning what lies behind that inkling.

It's been a month since I sent that letter to Joseph. I tried to be patient, but after two and a half weeks, I sent him a text to reestablish a line of communication. That was two weeks ago today, accounting for this past month as a whole.

I've figured that he needed some time to mull it over, but I began to doubt if that was really the case as more days passed. I began to question if there was some mistake in the address I mailed it to, or the number I was texting--I did receive both from his aunt, after all. Who's to say that she didn't make a small mistake here or there?

It has been two weeks since my last text. Fueled by some mixture of desiring closure, clearing up ambiguity, and simply missing our friendship, I decided just an hour or so ago to text him once more:

"Joseph, I know that you're more than likely going through your own problems. I'll confess that I've allowed myself to fall into a pretty deep depression lately. It would make a big difference if you just said something--anything.

"You were the one who showed me the value of vulnerability, after all."

He responded:

"Aaron, I am so sorry I didn't respond to you. I have a letter that I'll get to you asap [sic] if you'll hold on just a bit."

I thanked him, and asked if he had a means of sending it. His response:

"If you would give me your email address I could get it to you faster, especially since its [sic] so overdue."

I have no idea what this foretells. I had no idea that he would need an entire letter to articulate a response to my thoughts. I mostly wanted to start a conversation, and be honest. I am clueless as to which direction this will lead, but one thing is for sure...

I need to calm down my heart rate before I donate plasma today...

*As always, names were changed to be consistent with the pseudonyms that I have used throughout my blog, to preserve the privacy of all involved.

I'm Ready...Depression

So a week and a half ago, I texted Joseph, innocently enough, just to try and start a conversation.

When am I ever going to learn?

It's been terribly frustrating for me--I know having one or two good friends I can relate with would go a long way to helping me heal.

Where's the rock they're hiding under???

I've been in a funk off and on for the last two years, but this time the word "depression" is much more fitting. I've stopped working out in earnest--I've only used my cheat method to get any exercise whatsoever; I don't practice; I've put off business-related tasks; I've turned to one of my dearest vices, which is gaming, not to mention something else too private for me to feel comfortable sharing here that has flared up.

Now, before I say too much, I want to clarify something: Joseph is not to blame for my depression. The issue is how I'm choosing to respond. I'm being reactive instead of proactive. I completely own that. I will take responsibility for that.

There's a strong part of me that severely wants to have someone in my life to give me motivation, in and of himself, for me to live, to thrive. I had a poignant thought the other night. Satan has tempted me with things completely out of left field, and however terrifically uninteresting the idea would be, suicide has been a topic he has broached.

The thing is, I don't want to die. I couldn't kill someone, least of all myself. But I want another reason to live. I need it.

I thought also that I need a savior. Of course, I have one. I just wish I could walk and talk with Him, put my head on His shoulder, or in His lap. Despite some of the things I've struggled with, I would love to have the Lord here, in person.

They say that we're the Lord's hands. I do a considerable amount to "reach out", on His behalf. Whereas I don't do so to receive some sort of recompense, I can't help but wish that there was someone out there to help lift me up. Maybe that's what Joseph was once, but it seems like he simply doesn't care anymore. I wonder how much he ever cared in the first place. It would be much easier if I wasn't coming across so many reminders of him all the time.

I want to try to pick myself back up. But for right now, I'm going to grab my figurative (and occasionally literal) ice cream tub and crawl in a hole.

Seventy Times Seven Second Chances

It never ceases to amaze me how much of a difference just a little time in the temple can make. I didn't give myself enough time to perform any ordinances, so I sat in the lobby and prayed and pondered for the better part of an hour.

I was reflecting in the shower just now, thinking about the new dress pants I'll hopefully be picking up tomorrow. Considering my somewhat downcast tone lately, I figure my thoughts are timely.

It's funny how life makes you appreciate the little things.

Like when you walk into the bathroom while not paying attention. That moment of panic comes: "Did I just walk into the women's restroom?" You look around, and then breathe a sigh of relief.

You then have a newfound appreciation for the urinals you never use.

Or when you go to perform at a place you haven't been to in months, and a woman who has certainly inquired before asks you no less than six times in half an hour if you are married.

It's then that you begin to appreciate your mental health.

I've started noticing that I haven't had such an easy time fitting into pants I've worn for years. For most people, this would be morbidly depressing, but for me, I find it extremely encouraging. Much of my time spent working out includes the most taxing compound exercises there are, including squats and an alternate form of deadlifts meant to target the hamstrings (the muscles on the back of the thighs) and glutes. To see myself already beginning to outgrow my pants is really exciting.

I have always been very grateful for the amount of patience the Lord exercises with me--there seems to be no limit to the amount of second chances He extends to me. I try to be as lenient with life as He is towards me. Therefore, I'm going to pick myself up, dust myself off, and give life another shot. Who knows--maybe I'll get it right this time.

But Nobody Came

Christmas day, 9:33 PM: arrived at the nearest major city.

Monday, 5:29 AM: departed said city.

Tuesday, 8:01 AM: out for delivery.

Tuesday, 12:20 AM: delivered to front door.

I tried not to have overly high expectations. I would have simply been grateful to hear from Joseph at all, but I didn't want to hold my breath.

I never heard anything. For all I know, the package went unopened.

What did I do in response to that? Why, I downloaded a few gay dating apps/sites, of course.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. It's still with only strictly platonic intentions, although I am remembering quickly why I opted out of these things in the first place--so often it seems like there's no sense of politeness or courtesy. I even decided to use my real name and a picture of myself. However, the only guys who express any interest in me are old enough to have sired me (shiver--creepy) and can only use one-word lines. When I try interacting with someone closer to my own age, I never hear anything, or the conversation dies before there really ever was one.

I know I'm not ugly. I work hard to take care of myself, in diet, fitness, and various other ways. I am absolutely positive that I am someone worth being friends with, however, these guys passively reject me before even getting to know me. Is it because I say I'm looking for non-sexual friends? Is that really too much to ask for? Why do they all seem to be this way?

What is the art to making good, real friends? I am a genuine, honest, loving, caring person, so shouldn't there be other people like me out there?

I don't think I'm too picky at all. Given, it's hard for me to become very invested in someone who isn't at my level of fitness or better, but I would never judge someone for being overweight, not fit, or for not being "jacked" (I'm not just yet--that's a work in progress). I'll also confess that I am almost immediately uninterested the instant I see someone who's used Snapchat to give themselves a dog face (I mean, come on). But otherwise, and except my hard and fast rule that it must remain platonic in every way, I am really quite flexible and open-minded.

So why is there rejection on every side?

Why can't they just meet me in person (I would be willing to order them an appetizer at a restaurant) before deciding that I'm not worth their time?

I want a massage, dagnabbit!

I absolutely love the Church and the Gospel. I am no more capable of living it perfectly than the next guy, but I certainly make the effort. This isn't a problem with the Church--this lies with our culture. We're growing less friendly and more distant from each other. There is nothing wrong with my desire to interact with guys in healthy, appropriate, platonic ways. Actually, that's incredibly natural and essential to one's overall health. I shouldn't have to seek that from other gay guys, but I do because, at the very least, they acknowledge that they have a need to interact with other guys. "Straight" guys seem to be much less likely to recognize that, at least nowadays. It would definitely be too much to ask for to suggest regularly spending time together, or going to grab a bite to eat, or doing something fitness related, or (heaven forbid) having a massage exchange (Ooh! Yeah, I said it!). Jokes aside, that last one sounds extremely appealing. I'm sore all over right now. For all the right reasons, yes, but some relief would be welcome, especially at the hands of someone strong enough to manage my currently-growing muscles (by the way, I reached my goal of putting on 15 pounds this year. It feels good.).

But nobody came.

The "M" Word

Now, before you read the title of this and your mind can go to the gutter for a swim, I'll give you a hint

"Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us togewah today."

"When I finally married Mr. Right, I had no idea his first name was Always."

I would include more funny quotes and puns...if I knew any more. As it is, I had to look these up. Because I'm not funny.

There's a risk of my thoughts going all over the place, so I apologize in advance. My mind first goes to another blogger whose post I read a few days ago. He was married, yet he mentions going through a divorce, alluding to the underlying reason of his coming out. I suppose that's his prerogative, and I'm definitely not in a position to criticize, especially knowing as little as I do. But he mentioned his disapproval of a relative who was engaged to a man to be sealed in the temple, which man openly admitted to his fiancee that he's same-sex attracted. His remark (the blogger's) is that he (the young man) is making the same mistake as he did.

I commented on this post of his, in as un-argumentative of a way as I could, in regards to my perspective, which is very different than his. I suspect my remarks won't be published there, but hey, I have my own blog for that sort of thing, right? This is my sentiment:

Who's to say that it's a mistake to enter into a mixed orientation marriage?

Now, allow me to elaborate. Not every person is going to be emotionally and spiritually prepared to be married at any given time. I know that if I got married tomorrow, it would be like getting dunked in a pool of ice water. But it won't always be that way for me, and it doesn't have to always be that way for anybody else. In any event, the eternities are available for the faithful. But if a man, generally attracted to other men, decides to marry a woman, who's to say that won't be the best decision of both of their lives?

However, I think these are indeed mistakes that ought to be avoided:

Lying about, or covering up important details of one's past, including before marriage;

Neglecting to be transparent with one's struggles and difficulties in the present;

Masking the true nature of one's sexual appetites and/or emotional needs;

Refusing to divulge acts of infidelity, past or present.

In other words, being in a mixed orientation marriage requires being especially vulnerable in order to be effective, and create the same sort of synergy that the best of marriages are capable of.

Quite bluntly put, putting aside severe acts of infidelity, if a woman is unable to handle a man being vulnerable about real difficulties and struggles that he goes through, then it would indeed be a mistake to take her to wife. Being fair, though, not every woman is capable of dealing with such things in a Christlike way. But that's what the "let's just be friends" card is for.

Now, moving on to my own personal feelings:

Call me brainwashed, call me indoctrinated, call me selfish--call me anything you want, but I am looking forward to having a woman I can call my wife one day.

Why is that, you may ask?

The best way I have come up with to explain that is that I want to get married for all the most noble reasons that a man could have, minus having a bunch of hormones telling me that I need to get hitched.

I'm not getting married to check off some figurative box.

I'm not getting married because someone told me I have to, because I'm expected to do so.

I'm not getting married just so I don't have to be lonely.

I want to have a companion by my side at all times, one I can confide in, one I can raise a posterity with, one I can love with all of my heart.

I want to have a marriage that can truly have the Lord's blessing.

Most importantly, I want to have a marriage that can last in the eternities, that can have "eternal increase".

I know that, if nothing else, those last two things could never happen with another man. As controversial a statement as this may be, "traditional marriage" and same-sex marriage are not the same thing. If two men or two women are in love, that's one thing. But to call any such union between them a marriage goes against the very purpose marriage was established in the first place. Any two men or two women can live in complete harmony with the Gospel. Love is something that has been romanticized and sexualized with greater intensity with the passing of time, which causes a great deal of strife, confusion, and trouble. Sex and romance have much greater significance when left for the right time and circumstances.

Now, you might be asking me, "Is this really fair to her? How's that supposed to work?"

This is my argument: I have a tendency to put other's needs before my own. I feel I possess a great deal of respect for women and their role in society. I have already actively abstained from infidelity now, before I've even met her. I would do anything in my power to make her happy, and would avoid anything that would unnecessarily upset her. I would be very open and vulnerable about my experiences and emotions, and would expect her to do the same (and isn't that every woman's dream?). You could ask my mom if there was any doubt about any of these things.

Plus, I've been legitimately attracted to, and seriously interested in pursuing a relationship with certain girls in the past. I don't have to be attracted to every woman out there for it to work.

Anywho, I have more I'm sure I could add, but I'm absolutely positive that it will be one of the best decisions of my life.

You Got Mail: Epilogue

I'm sure a chunk of me got left behind in November. Despite all my zeal to get things done and to realign my life and routine at the beginning of the month, I got sick and stayed sick for two-and-a-half weeks. There's few things more effective at killing the ol' motivation.

Honestly, I am not in the mood for an obligatory Christmas post. My Christmas has been hijacked by a particular sibling of mine who can't seem to pull his head out of a certain orifice of his. I'm tempted to put his phone, which is now in my pocket, between the asphalt and my back tire.

No, I have something different that I want to talk about.

It seems like everything I see and pass triggers thoughts of Joseph. I have had this letter that has underwent several variations. The first was the slightly disappointed version that I started two months or so ago. Earlier this month, it was the slightly angry version (which was definitely the longest variation, mind you). But I couldn't find it within me to send it, although I knew I needed to say something.

However, lately, I have come to realize just how much I miss him. It's been particularly rough, in sight of the family issue that I just made reference to, acknowledging a relationship that, as impossible as it seems, is deteriorating even past the level of decay that it had reached before. It is beyond me, why it is so terribly difficult to connect with people in more meaningful ways than through the incredibly superficial devices our generation is infamous for. I wish there was someone that validated me. The way Joseph did.

On Thursday, I had a considerable break between appointments. I decided that it was time for me to finally make my move. I don't know what will come of this, but I edited my letter one final time, which was an extensive process, conveying my feelings to him with absolutely no intent to make him feel bad for things real or perceived. I hope, if nothing else, it will erase, for either one or both of us, any ambiguity surrounding our friendship. I printed it out, satisfied that I could have absolutely no regrets for expressing myself as I did, took it to the post office later that day (before I could change my mind for the umpteenth time), using the address I got from his aunt and sending it with the Frisbee I had intended to give to him in the first place as a birthday present. I was a bit terrified when the man who helped me confirmed that it would likely arrive on Tuesday (What!? That was only five days away! Isn't it supposed to take an eternity for packages to get sent during the Christmas season, especially to a state well over a thousand miles away?) But off it went. Needless to say, during my relatively short trip to the temple the following day, Joseph's name went on the prayer roll. There's certain to be a follow up to this, especially if something develops on Tuesday. Any-who, this is what I sent to him:

Hey Joseph,

I hope you’re doing well, and that you’ve enjoyed your time back home with the family. I’ve written and rewritten this note, hesitated and deliberated—needless to say, I've put a lot of thought into this. It isn't easy for me to write what I’ve written, but I’m just going to send this before I change my mind again. Anyways, here goes nothing.

You've probably taken note of a few comments I've made in Church. I have never clearly said it around you, but about a year ago, I started to come to terms regarding something about me. I was impressed during a fast and testimony meeting in January to bear my testimony as I have gone through this process and how it has influenced my spiritual growth. Of course, you had left town for school, so you probably didn't hear of this.

I'm sure you understand by now, but I'm referring to the same-sex attraction I experience.

It's something I regard as a gift I have been given for a purpose, and I believe it truly has helped shape me into a better person, has led me to help others in unprecedented ways, and has been a catalyst to my spiritual journey.

Yet it certainly doesn't make my life any easier. It would definitely be the prime evidence if I was taken to court for being single, or not dating. But that doesn't really bother me a terrible deal. That's not why it has been the source of quite a lot of heartache lately. I want to be upfront and honest with you as to why it has "messed me up inside", as I alluded to you once.

The truth is that I fell in love with you a year ago.

It started that one time when you so sincerely thanked me for stepping in for that one Gospel Doctrine class. I have never met someone with such sincerity, before or since--not in my entire life. You were also without a doubt one of the most caring people I've ever met, and had this way of making me feel like a million bucks, like I was one of the greatest people on Earth. I can't begin to tell you how much it meant to me, every time you complimented me, every time you just sat down next to me and struck up a conversation just because you could, all the times you expressed the desire to spend time with me, the times you took me up on my offer to go on a walk, perhaps especially how you opened up to me about some very private, personal struggles you were going through at the time. The trust you expressed in me was something invaluable to me.

But before I get too far, let me explain my intentions for sharing this with you. When I first was trying to come to grips with all of this, I felt a powerful spiritual impression--the Lord was trying to teach me that this was His way of telling me that I needed to become friends with you. As I have never felt this way before--especially not with this intensity--I simply had to trust Him. It was terrifying, truly, but I certainly would have regretted not acting on that prompting...promptly. You did leave just weeks later, after all.

All I ever wanted--no--all I've ever allowed myself to want, is to be friends with you. The Lord has taught me that I can have a healthy, platonic relationship, even with someone that the natural man in me might desire something more with. I have learned the depth of Alma's admonition to "bridle all your passions"--the Lord doesn't want me to crush or demolish my feelings, any more than bridling a horse means to brutally slaughter it. He wants me to reign it in and use it to help others and more productively make it to my destination, just as that would entail with bridling a horse.

I can honestly say that I have had no ulterior motives in our friendship—I promise you that. This all has led me to care very deeply for you. When I hear that you're going through a difficult time; when I have seen you sitting alone in Church; when I’ve noticed you're missing for most, if not all, of the Church meetings and activities--my heart goes out to you. I worry about you. I wish there was something I could do to help you. Maybe that's why I was impressed so often to reach out to you—maybe the Spirit acknowledges how much I truly care about you and your well-being, both temporal and eternal. I hope you’ll understand that, if there ever was any other motive I had for texting you on a frequent/infrequent basis (whichever word you would insert here), it was because I never had a friend that was the same caliber of person that you are, and I didn’t want that friendship to simply slip through my fingers over nothing. I valued that enough to not want to lose it so easily. So if I was ever a bother in any way, I apologize, as that was, of course, the furthest thing from my intent.

Now, I recognize that it will simply be a fact of life for me, that I will end up falling in love with guys with whom I can only hope, at the very most, to have a great friendship. I accept that--I'm not ashamed of that. The best I can do is to allow that to be an engine to help me more fully care about and appreciate them.

I don’t know if any of this comes as a surprise to you; perhaps it's something that you've been afraid of, that's made you feel awfully uncomfortable around me. I can understand how I might feel exactly the same way in your place. Perhaps just knowing I'm gay is enough to accomplish that. I can’t blame you if that is the case—it is definitely a complex thing to deal with from any angle, especially since I’m entirely committed to celibacy.

I’d also like to say that I've never expected you to be my only real friend. I've learned that to most effectively handle all of these emotions, I need a number of guy friends. I knew you weren’t always going to be around, or have enough time to text me back—you have your own life to live, after all, and having two jobs and impending (expensive) semesters at school certainly wouldn’t make it a walk in the park for you. As a result, I would redouble my efforts to reach out to others, thinking that if I could find someone that I could connect with on the emotional level that I thought I had with you, things would be better. I can't tell you how much I invested into making that happen; I tested the virtue of the singles' ward, of Facebook, Craigslist--I even tried using a few gay dating websites and apps as a platform for making platonic friends. I was amazed at the outcome. I scarcely if ever was able to spend time with, much less connect with anyone from the ward like I’d hoped; Facebook only proved to add to that frustration, with even less results. I can at least say I had some pretty profound conversations with some of the guys on Grindr. But so many of them couldn't even so much as respond back. So many others would all but demand a "face pic", after which I would never hear from them again. Whenever I would explain to them that I just wanted some platonic friends I could relate to, I was made to feel like I was of no interest or worth unless I indulged in some sort of romantic or sexual activity. I never once met a single one of them in person. That, of course, definitely didn't help me in the self-esteem department.

My disappointment with my reaching out to the singles' ward and the rejection I felt is what caused me to explore the option of another ward. All of the Grindrs got deleted permanently. I even completely deleted my Facebook account.

This has become a bunch of rambling. I've been through so much lately that has tried continually to tear me down—rejection from family, failure in social endeavors, getting my car totaled, frustrating hand problems—the list goes on. I'm not as busy as I would like to be, so perhaps that's why I have needed more social interaction. But I know that the timing of this is such that you can't really do anything about it—you said yourself that you will scarcely if ever be in the area. But I kind of felt that if I left the singles' ward, chances were good that I would never see you again. I suppose I just need to be alright with that. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve missed you, and that I will miss you. The same can be said for the months prior to you returning home. It has been hard, not staying in touch with you, or even trying.

I also want to mention that, concerning some of the more private and personal things you have confided in me, I can relate to you much more than I ever had the chance to let on. I hope you are doing well in those departments, but if not, or if you ever find yourself battling, or, if you ever need a friend that you can have a more meaningful conversation with than just shooting the breeze…just know that I understand and that I’m here.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and sorry if any of this was overwhelming. I wish you the best in life; in school, your career, and dating. I believe you'll make some lucky girl really happy one day. Oh, and per the enclosed and really late birthday present, I had never intended to keep it for myself anyways. I hope you keep playing Ultimate Frisbee.

Yours truly,

Aaron

Merry Christmas to you all.

Mixed Signals

Wednesday was one of those days that I was trying to get back on the wagon. Sure, I woke up sore all over from my workout on Monday, and I was not nearly as prepared to share the music I was working on in anticipation for November. The whole day I was trying to forget one single fact:

Today is Joseph's birthday.

I'm glad I decided to delete his number from my phone, as I wasn't tempted to text him. I no longer can be prompted to reach out to him for any reason.

I don't think he deserves it.

In retrospect, I have learned something about myself--I deserve better than a one-sided friendship. I know that, and I want something far deeper than that. The sad thing, too, is that I admired him for his good traits, I understood him and loved him even more for his weaknesses...all except one. There was one trait of his that I simply did not want to accept, because the ultimate price that characteristic exacted was that of my friendship. But I have had to accept that one single fact:

Joseph is just...flaky.

I need to move on. But there just seems to be this nagging thing that keeps me from completely throwing out that box that insists on residing in the front room of my mind, rather than the attic, or better yet, the garbage. I can't help but wonder God isn't trying to tell me someway, somehow that our destinies are inseparably intertwined in some manner unknown to me.

My performances were organized in an odd way today--I had two in the late morning/early afternoon, with two more in the evening. During the break, I went to the local temple and did an endowment session for the first time in several weeks (I have done sealings the last few times I have gone). I went to receive the name of the deceased man whose vicarious work I would be doing. The temple worker gave me a card for a man with five names.

His first name was Joseph's. Not "Joseph", but his real name.

I walked away from the temple worker and said under my breath, "You've got to be kidding me."

Of all days, I just so happen to go to the temple and receive the name of the one person I was trying hardest to forget. On his birthday.

I don't even know what to think about that. The likelihood of all those circumstances lining up is so finite as to seem like the deus ex machina in one of those cheesy romance movies that unites the couple at the last moment, when all seems to suggest them going their separate ways.

But that's not going to happen. I don't want that to happen. But what does this all mean, then? What is God trying to tell me? I can't buy the "it's all coincidence" scapegoat--there's no possible way. And yet chances are good that I'll never see him again, or at least, not within the coming years. I surely haven't seen him since I last walked away from the singles' ward a month and a half ago, as I suspected would be the case.

What is it then?