You'll remember in Perhaps, posted a week ago, that I introduced that letter from my high school days with the story of the friend it was written to.  It was the story of my having admitted my homosexuality to my dearest friend, who happened to be quite religious, and the repercussions of that avowal.

After reaching a point in my life where I realized my sexuality wasn't the manifestation of some demonic possession or some as yet undiagnosed acute mental illness, I was struggling to accept it myself when I decided to also share my self-discovery with a few of the people in my life at that time who I trusted and felt close to.

Again as I explained in that post, my revelation to this particular friend did not go quite as I had imagined.  In fact, it was as if I had admitted to murdering his entire family.  I might as well have had the plague.

So, after trying to speak with him in person and via phone, all to no avail, I wrote Perhaps in an attempt to break through the sudden ice that had formed between us.  The cold of our relationship wore on me heavily as I had considered him one of my closest friends.

The response to that letter was just as cold as our friendship had become.  He refused to talk to me about it or what had caused the friction between us.  He wouldn't take my calls and would ignore me if I tried to speak to him in person.  I even tried to approach it as a religious debate in the hopes of engaging him that way (yes, somewhat manipulative, but I wanted my friend back and was willing to try almost anything).

After three weeks with me attempting to open a dialogue with him and him having no trouble acting like I didn't exist, I decided to write a final letter expressing my feelings and leaving the door open for some future interaction between us.

Now 16 years later, the only interaction we have is my seeing these letters or flipping through my high school yearbooks.  I now know that our friendship was not meant to last and, in the scheme of things, would never have been a real friendship.  He could not accept me as who I was and I could not change to be something he could accept.

But none of those realizations make it easier.

 

What an experience our relationship has been.  So much more than a learning experience, it has been a growing experience, an understanding experience, a life experience.

You have helped me to realize the potential in others, but, more importantly, the potential in myself.

I have grown along with those around me.

You have taught me to see life through eyes other than my own.  You have allowed me to push to the limits only to find that the limits are those that I set for myself.

I thank you for the trust, assistance and encouragement.  Your apparent devotion to those you would call friend is inspiring.

You have pushed me to new heights and given me the sky.  I can only say, "I love you," for any other attempt at gratitude would fall short of the true emotions I feel.

I have seen your intelligence and your wit and your seemingly endless experience with life — disproportionate to your age, we always said.  These are only some of the things I will miss.

I have experienced the joy of knowing you.  I can only hope others are given an opportunity to experience that as well.

I wish only the best for you in the future.

And I hope your future and the relationships that fill it are not so easily torn asunder based on the differences between people.

We were more than friends once.  We were practically brothers.  So imagine my disappointment and anguish at exercising the honesty between us only to find my honesty would be the tool you use to cast aside our friendship.

And cast it aside you did, for it now lies behind us like some discarded rag, unlikely to ever be touched by either of us again.

So I say good-bye to you now.  Yes, at the same time I am offering a way back should you ever choose to walk that path, but good-bye is the taste left in my mouth, it's the message ringing in my ears, it's the aroma left on my clothes.

Our journey together we had at best.  Let my hope share your journey — that we celebrate our differences, that we enjoy what makes us individuals, that we embrace the diversity of our lineage and existence, but that we do not allow our differences to drive us apart.

For if you cannot do such things, your life will be empty.

Know that mine will not.

[circa 1989]

So where was I?

Ah, yes…

But I digress…

The candle on my desk is now extinguished by the passage of time, its flame whispered out of existence hours ago like the name of someone we wish to forget, the Evanescence CD replaced by the excruciatingly gay yet always satisfying 106.7 KDL, the only dance music station in the DFW metroplex area (how pitiful we are to have only one here).  "Appreciate Me" by Amuka is on right now while it has begun to rain outside.

Rick and I hit it off immediately, as I said, and we began — how shall I say it? — we began seeing each other.  Yes, that could be defined as dating or as just messing around or…  Oh hell!  Do I really need to spell it out for you?

This was well before my back surgery in 1996 as I remember clearly how our relationship had climaxed just before I was hospitalized.

I must admit that my initial relationship with Rick was exceptionally comfortable, like a warm blanket just pulled from the drier, and was without friction until problems bubbled to the surface from my other life (you know, the guy at home…).

I see no need at this time to translate the intimate details from my memory, so don't ask.

Despite the adolescent drama that seemed increasingly to thrive on simple conversations, we remained friends and stayed close for some time.  But, and this so often happens to us when we aren't watching closely enough, Rick and I eventually grew apart and rarely talked for a few years.  We didn't part on bad terms — we parted on almost no terms whatsoever.  As I said, we drifted apart as people sometimes do.

Much to my pleasure, when my roommate and I moved last year, I learned that Rick was still living in this area and — fate? — actually lived in the same apartment complex we had just moved to.  Oh, he actually lived just two buildings away.

Having matured significantly since he and I first met, I was thrilled to see him and happily pursued our friendship with vigor.  The drama jacket of youth had been slipped off long ago in favor of a new, mature parka.  The cold reality of life could now be dealt with easily and without fear of harm.

Many people say such things and may actually feel it to be true, but I sincerely say that slipping back into our friendship was like putting on a perfectly fitted glove.  It felt like it had always been this way and was never meant to be any other way.

Under the pressure of a too-full life and excessively stressful job, I found my time with Rick to be relaxing, engaging, and a welcome respite.  I have other friends with whom I can spend time and enjoy the same emotional satisfaction, so don't try to put words into my mouth.  For the first six months or so, I was content with my comfortably familiar and soothingly satisfying friendship with him.  Home life was anything bust restful, work was… well, it was work… and I was spending far too much time running hither and thither on this and that errand to enjoy even a few restful moments living life rather than working for it.

With Rick's proximity, it was quite easy to escape for a few moments (or several hours).

But life continued to get more complicated and stressful.  That meant my time with friends — time away from all things responsible — was becoming more precious and dear, a cherished retreat from a life that was threatening to overwhelm me.

It was after six months or so that I realized I was still infatuated with Rick.

Still?  I knew you'd ask.

I had been infatuated with him 10 years ago when we first met.  Our relationship at the time served to solidify that infatuation, making it one of those life-long crushes we always carry with us.  You undoubtedly know the kind — when you can never truly get over the person, you can never think about them without fondness, you can never stroll through your memories of them without feeling remorse over their absence.

All things being equal, an infatuation is a school-age crush which should be ignored.  It will, after all, go away.  And it is just an infatuation.

But all things are not equal.

As I said I would do, I've turned the site's user engine on again.  You may remember that I turned it off about a year ago because I thought I would be taking the site in a different direction (sans interactivity).  I've now decided that I want the site to be interactive, hence the change.  Registered users now have the ability to send and receive private messages, submit news for possible inclusion on the site, post comments using their name rather than anonymous, and modify different aspects of the site (like how comments are shown).  Registered users will also have access to additional features and content which will not be available to the general public.

Why the change of direction again?  I originally believed this site would be primarily a forum for my own voice.  Although I still believe that's the case, I also think my life includes more than my own opinions and is shared with people who help define who I am.  For that reason, making the site interactive again allows me to more easily include those additional voices and people as well as providing those of you who don't know me an additional opportunity to get to know me better by being involved in the site and an opportunity to make your voice heard when you have an opinion to share on something I've posted here.

You can create an account by using the Account link in the Main box on the left side of the page or through either the Sign On! or Who's Online boxes.

Expect more content and services geared toward registered users as I have time (that doesn't mean less for unregistered users, just more for registered users).

As I sit here writing this entry for xenogere / strange behavior /, with a candle burning on my desk and Evanescence playing in the background, I feel as if I'm beginning a journey I have taken before and yet have never taken, a journey I started more than ten years ago yet am beginning for the first time, a journey I have always feared yet needed.  So many things in life are longed for without realization.  We renege on so many promises that we make to ourselves.  We more often than not survive a life thrust upon us with little or no input from us.  Yet — and these times are rare and wonderful and frightening — we sometimes are provided an opportunity to experience a fantasy come to life.

You may remember when I wrote These are the words I never speak and the follow-up to that which addressed your vocal concerns about the placement of that open letter.

I now stand at a crossroads in my life, a moment the likes of which we are often not presented with, when the choices we make seem to have a direct and unmistakable bearing on our happiness, our future, our very being.

Not to wax and wane philosophical, but I am overwhelmed at the moment with the intensity of my emotional focus at this time in my life.

I am 33 years old — not a fresh pick from the tree while not yet withering on the vine — and have had my share of relationships with people.

You may remember that I mentioned I was enamored (to use as primitive a term as I can to portray the emotional intensity) with someone who has been a friend of mine for about ten years.  This particular friend, Rick, is, as my dear friend Jenny put it, not intimidated by my intense personality and is equally well equipped to keep up with my unpredictable wit and insufferable, analytically-inclined mind.

All of that means he can put up with my shit.

I met Rick through a mutual friend.  We hit it off immediately, but there was one little problem — my boyfriend.

Well, I was only 23 years old and not yet wet enough behind the ears to know anything about relationships, social interaction, love, sex, or good music.

I'll admit that I did in fact cheat on my significant other, but this had become the norm for our relationship.  I don't offer that as an excuse but instead as a reason.  Why do you think gay men believe other men aren't beginning to mature until they hit 25 years old?  It's because they're right.

But I digress…

A prime example of why I find most — if not all — religions to be self-aggrandizing, money-hungry, hypocritical organizations which are only one step removed from cults is this recent Easter play put on by the Glassport Assembly of God in Glassport, PA.  The play upset many of the children and parents in attendance because it showed the Easter bunny being whipped.  The actors also broke eggs that were meant for the Easter egg hunt and portrayed a drunken man and a self-mutilating woman.

One parent who took her 4-year-old son to see the play said, "He was crying and asking me why the bunny was being whipped."  She went on to say that the play was inappropriate for young children.

Can someone explain to me why in hell a church would find it acceptable to put on a play meant for children in which the Easter bunny is beaten and Easter eggs are smashed (among other things)?  Freedom of religion aside, the people involved should be charged with child abuse and reckless stupidity (the latter being easier to prove than the former).