The Commandments for Gay Christians

Mel White says we should always know what the other side is doing. For that reason I read the websites of people like Focus On The Family, The Christian Coalition, The Christian Broadcasting Network, and other sites that oppose civil rights to gays in the name of Christ and love. I also read what my side is publishing so that I can attempt to have a balanced view of the current situation. On one of the pro-gay sites, I found the following: 

The Commandments for Gay Christians!

1.Do not commit RAPE. 

2.Do not engage in PROSTITUTION. 

3.Do not take CHILDREN as sex partners. 

4.Do not MUTILATE YOUR BODY to conform to human concepts of gender. 

5. Do not LIE about your LGBT status. 

7. Do not refer to yourself or others of your kind as PERVERTS, FAGGOTS, QUEERS, DYKES, TRANNIES, B***** or other derogatory names. 

8. Do not enter into “EX-GAY” THERAPY, be it secular or religious in nature.

9. Do not engage in sex practices that ENDANGER YOUR HEALTH or the health of others. 

10. Do not attend or support an ANTI-GAY CHURCH. 

11. Do not follow the doctrines of any religious teacher except JESUS CHRIST, your SAVIOR

Commandment number 3 really angers me. The fact that as gay men people still believe we are a danger to children. I love kids, I love working with them, I love teaching them, and I love making a positive impact in their lives. When I come home, and am looking for sexual intimacy, I want a man. A bulky, beautiful, man. I understand that there are pedophiles in the world, and that there are same sex pedophiles, but why do we get lumped into the same category as them. Then we have to defend ourselves, making sure that people who aren't familiar with gays know that we aren't pedophiles. It is still so big of a deal that the writer of the Commandments felt that it needed to be included. On this topic, let us not forget this shining moment in gay history. 

I am sitting at work.
Hoping, maybe even praying that you will call.
Or email, just give me a little something.
Because we throw around the word love
like a baseball and I am hoping just this once
they will play this game with me.

The Glass Closet

In trying to give me situation a name I think that I have finally settled on "the glass closet." I needed something that describes the gay man who isn't in the closet or out of it, but as out as the emotional baggage and religious obligation will allow.  The man in the the glass closet is transparent to those around him, open and honest, but is forced to run at the first sign of any real contact with another man. 

My diagnosis, while self fitting, has come from my observations of my roommate. We are indeed birds of a feather, the only major difference being I have only recently left the comfort of hiding in a small, conservative Texas town and he has been free of that for some time. Watching him makes me fear the time when I might have to wear the same shoes and make the same choices. 

Watching him, struggle, wanting to be happy and not being able to find the happiness in the arms of some one else. Left to wonder. 

I know this is only the beginning of my journey in the glass closet. Not knowing where it might end, I have made a promise to track the journey to its end. And see what happens. For me and my roommate. 

Breath.
Simple choice.
In and out, in and out.
Every moment.
Stop.

Making the choice everyday to love life.

"Manhood"

Nothing Else to Say.

In the corridor of my heart there are many doors. And these copious doors lead to rooms. Each room unique in both purpose and decor. Towards the front of the hall there are rooms which I visit daily,Like a devout en route to morning mass. Farther back, however, where the edge of the lantern stops And the dust settles on the ne'er trampled stones,Lies a room seldom visited. Today, like every, I went into the hallway, and glaring down the tomb, I remembered the room seldom visited. Creeping towards the room I notice on the floor, things that should have been tucked away behind lock and key, I make a mental note: Hire a maid. Opening the room seldom visited, the darkness of the stone walls was Illuminated by vestiges of you that I had tucked away in case I might need them again.I looked with a bittersweet fondness at the items that while once considered treasure, now appeared as carnage. I gathered the yellowing notes, the tired sentiments, the meaningless affections, and packed them with the gale of the lies that put these things in the room first. I bound this all, every last glimmer of you, into a wooden crate and sliding near a window, I watched it drop faster than Rapunzal’s hair, hitting the water below in a most theatrical splash. You and I have no connection, the bonds are truly broken, I kept them safe here, hoping you might once again wish to re-attach, but I was a fool for thinking that the little, honest amount of love I could offer you could ever outweigh the power of your own selfish, deceptive heart. Splash.