Nature vs Nurture

What kind of self-respecting, gay, Mormon blogger waits this long to pontificate about the age-old question:  Why do I like penises despite having one of my own when I am supposed to be drawn to their counterparts?  Wow, that sounded really gay.  Well, if you haven't figured it out by now, I am that kind of gay.

Was I born this way? Maybe.  Did I make a conscious decision to be attracted to men?  Hell No.  Did I experience some things that well-meaning-but-oh-so-presumptuous mental health professionals might point a finger at? Yes.

I did some pretty "gay" extra-curricular activities growing up (not always of my own choosing), so that's probably why I am gay, right? :)

• I was in a singing group called Kids Konnection, or something like that, at a young age.  The girls wore pink and the boys wore purple tie-died shirts with sparkly letters and I think there was a show choir aspect to it.  If that's not enough to make someone gay I don't know what is!  I sang a lot growing up and still love to sing to the radio.
• I was fascinated by the piano, ended up taking lessons, really hated my first teacher (who made me cry on multiple occasions), eventually got a new teacher, did not practice very much, but continued to take lessons for years, and would love to compose my own music some day.
• I played the gayest "real sport" that you can play in America: soccer.  I started at a pretty young age and my mom did not want me playing other sports.

I was involved in some early male-male sexualization.  I was 6 or 7 at the time when a neighbor boy (probably only a year or two older than me) introduced me to my genitals in new ways:

• He taught me and a couple other boys how to stimulate ourselves and measure our erections.  He created a sort of competition:  You guessed it - who has the longest penis?
• He later taught us to put our dangling participles in each others mouths as a way to derive pleasure.  We were not sexually mature but I remember the practice creating an urgency to urinate.
• This all happened in our backyard, behind an old wooden gate that had been leaned against the block fence that surrounded our yard.  I know that at least two of the other boys involved have since had some uncommon sexual manifestations: one seeking early heterosexual encounters and one with homosexual orientation.

I reached puberty pretty early, and was fascinated by the male body from then on.

• There was a guy in 6th grade that I really wanted to be close to.  We talked and were friendly and joked together from time to time.  But there was something different about him, something I wanted to have or to be.  He was athletic, handsome, and funny.
• I am not sure how old I was when it started, but I remember keeping the cardboard inserts of the boy models from the new packages of underwear I got periodically.  I must have had some sense that this was not normal because I would hide them at the bottom of my drawer.  I really liked those perfect bodies - I wanted mine to look like that and I wanted to be close to boys like that.
• In junior high school there was a guy in my gym class who had the most chiseled body I had ever seen.  Our lockers were at opposite corners of the aisle that was assigned to our class, but at least once per class I would try to catch a glimpse of his perfect body.  I envied it, wanted to touch it, I wished it was closer so I could get a better look.
• My parents had a very rudimentary home medical book.  It had the most simplistic outline sketch of a male body that was so scandalously interesting to me that I would often take a peak telling myself that I was researching some symptoms that I had.

My family relations were not ideal.  Don't get me wrong.  I definitely had the things that I needed and for the most part we seemed like a functional family, but we were all affected in ways that have only become recognizable in recent years.

• I had an overbearing mother (she definitely wore the pants in the family).  I am torn, looking back, as to whether I was emotionally close to her or not.  She had a temper.  She only seemed to point out the things we did wrong.  She also did a lot for me and cared for me and my siblings, but we all grew up in an atmosphere of guilt.  It seemed there was nothing I could do right and having fun was a necessary evil.  Somehow every day was cleaning day, yet the house was never clean and we were consequently rarely allowed to play.  When we did go on vacation or enjoy other types of entertainment we were constantly reminded about how expensive everything was, how late we were to the planned event, how we should be home saving our money, etc, etc, etc.  I love her, but she is a very difficult woman.  She definitely got her worst traits from her mother and is almost completely blind to how these traits affect others.
• My dad was/is not a weak man, but I gather that he just kind of gave up after a few years of marriage.  My mom is great at manipulating everything in to be his fault.  He has told me in recent years that he regrets not standing up for us when my mom was being unreasonably harsh for very minor offenses.  He says that the following example illustrates a frequent theme in our home:  He was working out of town, I had loaded the dishwasher and included the can opener, my mom was irate that I had put it in there because doing so would cause it to rust, I called my dad sobbing, he tried to get the Relief Society President to just stop by, she did not understand what for and did not end up going, and life went on like always.  I would always say I felt closer to my dad because I was not afraid of being yelled at by him.  But I am not especially close to him either.  I feel this complete emotional neutrality when it comes to my relationship with him.  I found out that when I was like four I always wanted to hold his hand and do what he was doing, but he would push my hand away because he did not want me to grow up to be gay. . . go figure!  I have no conscious memory of this but the thought of it makes me ache inside.

I was going to write more but my mind is turning to mush.  I guess I did not do much analyzing.  But these are the types of things that shrinks like to find out about.  There are probably more that I am forgetting.  If I was not born this way it certainly developed at an early age.  I have no recollection of being attracted to a female, despite having many female friends.  In fact, as a boy scout I remember helping with a service project to clean up trash that had blown away from the local garbage dump.  I found a page from a porno magazine and it totally grossed me out.  I can recognize a beautiful woman, but that is a far cry from being attracted to her.

Beck

As others have said, I could probably take entire posts from Beck's blog and post them on mine and you would know as much about the way my mind thinks as if I had written the post myself.  I don't know how that happens, but I have really connected with his blog.  I like to read blogs from the beginning, but with over three hundred posts, it is taking me forever to get through his!  Which brings me to the following questions:

How do other people read blogs?  Do most people just read the most recent posts when they find a new blog, or do other people start at the beginning?  Do other people just skim old post archives and read the ones that sound interesting?

However, since I have wanted to comment many times about things that happened years ago, I finally gave in and decided to read a few of his recent posts.  This post is partially inspired by one of his posts.

A few nights ago my wife wanted to see a movie.  We are really struggling to make ends meet financially (i.e. I do not know if we will be able to buy food or pay rent - not looking for sympathy, just explaining).  So a "real" movie theatre was out of the question, but I agreed that we could maybe see something at the dollar theater.  Upon reviewing the listings, none of them really caught my eye.  While my wife was trying to decide if any of them sounded worthwhile to see I pulled up Beck's blog and saw a post about The Most Exotic Marigold Hotel.  He mentioned that there was a sub-plot about a mixed-orientation marriage and that it had opened up an opportunity for him and his wife to have some dialogue about his attractions.

Since neither of us was partial towards any of the movie options I suggested that we could give that movie a try and briefly mentioned that I had read about a MOM subplot.  I do not really have a lot to say about the movie.  I enjoyed it and certainly would not discourage others from seeing it.  I asked my wife what she thought about it.  She only responded that she liked it and we did not say much else  about it.

The following evening my wife came home from the store with tears in her eyes (I really wish this type of occurrence was less frequent than it is).  I asked her what was going on.  She just said that she was having a hard day (we both have a lot of days like that which stem from me being me . . .  ):  She did not want to talk at that moment, but as I saw her work herself into a cleaning frenzy I soon recognized the tell-tale sign that there was definitely something that needed discussing.  When I approached her again about her feelings the first thing out of her mouth was, "Will I ever be number one in your life?  Or will Greg (name has been changed) always be your first true love like the man in the movie?"

While I had hoped that seeing the movie would turn in to an opportunity for us to talk as it had for Beck and his wife, I was taken aback by the approach my wife took right out of the gate.  With discussion starting off like that my initial reaction was (as it usually is) to shut off emotionally, mentally and even physically, if necessary, to avoid having to face reality.  But I didn't!  I still do not know if our conversation helped or hurt our relationship but I was more open and honest than I have been in months.  While I did not answer her question directly (I do not know if I could honestly answer that question even to myself at this point), I am glad that I opened up in some little way.

I told her that there are parts of me that may never be able to survive without male companionship in my life.  I said that I have a hard time distinguishing if my needs are mental, emotional, social, or sexual, but my brain is wired to need close male interaction and I do not think that will change in this life.  I reaffirmed my love for her and my commitment to figuring this all out.  And I admitted that at least part of the reason I have been so down lately is because I just feel really empty and lonely without any male interaction in my life.

For various reasons, ever since being married the only close friend that I seem to have left is my wife.  Maybe this is good or maybe this is very bad.  I don't know.  I know that she likes to keep me close (and I understand some of the reasons why).  Also, I have really been struggling with anxiety/depression which makes meeting new people very difficult for me.  My wife has arranged for us to do things with other couples from time to time, but without fail, and in no uncertain terms, these are couples with whom I have no interest in becoming good friends (I am very picky about friends when I really shouldn't be - I have so many quirks of my own I should not be so quick to discard potential friends!).  ARGH.  It is not normal for married men to have close female friends (of which I have had plenty in my life) and I know that if I were to get close to another male my wife would be highly suspicious.  What am I supposed to do?!

Decisions, decisions

In my last post I stated that I hate making decisions and I hate being told what to do.  It is a miracle that I even decide to get out of bed each morning.  Apparently this is obvious to those around me as well.  I have an aunt (who is not shy about sharing what she thinks) who described me thusly:  My only coping mechanism when making difficult decisions is to pretend that the problem doesn't exist.  Sad, but true!

I really miss the luxury of having the first twenty-something years of my life planned out for me.  I always did well in school and generally enjoyed being there.  I had an inner drive to go above and beyond by taking advanced courses, especially ones that would transfer to a university.  My parents did not go to college and I don't remember them really reinforcing that I needed to go to college, but I must have had good guidance from teachers along the way.  I knew from an early age that I wanted post-secondary education and did everything I could to be ahead of the game when that time did come.

I was always busy in the church.  Very few months would go by with me in a new quorum before I was called to a leadership position which I always took very seriously (what is that saying about all work and no play?).  I remember being the Teacher's Quorum President and having the quorum advisor calling me the night of our weekly activity to say that he had not had time to get anything ready.  I took it upon myself to get a structured activity ready.  When he showed up and said that we were going to just go hang out (I think he wanted to just get some food and play some sport) I was visibly annoyed and ended up just going home (yes, I was one of those Mormons that annoy the hell out of me right now - self-righteous and uptight, even from a young age).  I really procrastinated my final paperwork for my Eagle Scout award, but finished it in the end.

I had female friends that would drag me out of my house to do stuff.  I did not date, per se, but I did end up taking someone to most, if not all, of the school dances during my junior and senior year.  I had a best female friend that I hung out with a lot, which caused some to assume that we were dating, but I always said that I did not want a steady girlfriend before my mission.  I really did like being around her, but there was never any draw to hold hands or kiss or anything.  I had male friends as well but never seemed to really connect with the ones that I really admired.

Since I started kindergarten almost a year later than most of the kids with whom I graduated (my birthday was two weeks too late to start kindergarten the previous year - I was devastated that my friends from primary were going to school and I wasn't) I only had a few months after graduation before I left on my mission so I did not have to worry about making decisions about college right away.  An in-state university had offered me a full-ride (plus money for books) academic scholarship without me even applying and they agreed to hold it for two years while I was on my mission.  I did not have anything against the school but was not sure that was where I wanted to go and just did not want to make any decisions about it so I asked them to just hold it for me.  I got BYU fever while on my mission.  I had contemplated going there before my mission, but with the majority of Elders around me saying they were going to BYU I felt a strong desire to follow suit.

In the end, money ended up making the decision for me.  My dear mother did most of the footwork (because I was trying to focus on being a missionary) of applying for me to attend BYU and two other schools besides the one that had offered me a scholarship.  BYU offered me a 50% tuition reduction scholarship and I knew that the other in-state schools would match the full-ride scholarship I had previously been offered.  I really wanted to join my comrades at BYU, but with a little encouraging from my mom I agreed that a full-ride scholarship was not something I wanted to give up.  I also liked the fact that the school was a couple of hours away from my family - far enough to have my own independence, but close enough to visit or be visited by them without too much advanced planning.

After my mission, school and work kept me pretty busy.  I did not really date at all during my first year at the university.  The singles' ward I belonged to was made up primarily of people who were close to being dishonorably kicked out of the YSA program (i.e. turn 30) and cliques of people who had grown up together in the same town their entire lives and consequently did not make any effort to get to know the new-coming college-goers.  I just did not really fit in there and kept to myself as much as possible.  I would later learn the boundaries for wards that had younger college kids that had moved away from home to go to school.

I knew I was supposed to date (and hated when my parents would ask me about my dating life) so I dated enough to show that I was putting forth some effort.  Almost without exception I would go on a date or two with a girl, not feel any real desire to go any further, and then wait a couple of months before making myself try again.  I often enjoyed the idea of the date (trying to make it unique or creative) more than I enjoyed the actual date itself.  There were only two girls that I took out more than a couple of times before dating the girl that is now my wife.

Marriage was next on my to-do list so I kept going forward as I was programmed to do . . .  To be Continued . . .