I Don’t Believe In Monogamy But I Practice It

On Twitter I was crying because I’ve been a chaste nun the past week due to Mike being gone since Sunday for work.  I got several chuckles out of it and so it inspired me to write on my viewpoints on sex and relationships.

I’ll be perfectly honest.  I find monogamy to be very unnatural.  I’m not sure if it’s “a guy thing” or if it’s “a whore thing,” but it’s a thing all the same.  I’ve always been able to separate “making love” and “having wild out-of-control sex” and never got the big deal of staying faithful to one person.

Now, let me be very clear at this point.  I don’t condone cheating on your partner behind their back.  If you take a vow of monogamy with them, you need to respect it or leave them.   You can’t have a loving relationship if you need to constantly lie to your partner.  So put it back in your pants or man/woman up.

Anyways, monogamy.

I’m not sure what it is.  Some people blame it on genetics, some blame it on men being pigs, and either could be true, I’m not qualified to debate such things.  However most men just tend to think with their penis, plain and simple.   We see something sexually attractive and we want to bend it over and have our way with it.  Granted, some women think with their penises and some men don’t have this drive, but we’re talking generalizations right now.  Men are sexual beings that can’t seem to keep it in their pants.

I started practicing monogamy shortly after meeting Mike.  It had nothing to do with being “reformed” or “him being the one and only.”  It had to do with the fact that my sexual drive could have killed him.

We (and by we, I mean that I convinced Mike) decided to “have relations” with another guy while we were traveling.  I won’t go into the details, as this isn’t a smut novel, but the guy convinced us to not use a condom.  Side note, if I ever, ever hear of anyone of you guys not using one while with someone you don’t know, I’ll personally drive over there and kick your ass.

Soon afterwards Mike got pretty sick.  Again, I won’t go into the details as it’s not really relevant to the story.  Mike’s doctor told him, prior to running tests, that he was sure that Mike was HIV+.  So, as Mike was waiting for the test results back, Mike thought he was dieing.  And I was the one with the smoking gun.

Why do I practice monogamy even when I don’t necessarily believe in it?  Because I thought I killed the man I loved to fulfill that “itch.”  It’s funny, looking back on it now, that I wasn’t thinking of myself at that time.  I could have very well been infected along with him.  I just remember standing next to our bed with Mike laying on the bed, telling me all this.  The realization of the possibility of me murdering my partner slowly sinking into my brain.  The unadulterated horror when it came to me that “I killed him.”  I might as well of taken a gun, put it to his head, and shot him.  It would have been more humane I believe.

It was a very, very strained time in our relationship.  The tests came back negative, everything was OK, at least physically.  Psychologically it took Mike several months to heal, and all of this was due to my reckless behavior.  I nearly killed him and it was all my fault.

So, yes, I packed my whorish ways aside in the name of my sanity and his wellbeing.  I do not regret my decision though.  I’m willing to give up that part of me to stay in Mike’s life.  I want him to live a full, healthy, and happy life and hopefully he continues to allow me to be with him for many more years to come.


I Was Late For An Important Date…

I saw my twitter account explode yesterday in celebration of National Coming Out day.  Gays, straights, single men/women, mothers, all blowing up my Twitter, telling me they are “coming out” to celebrate and support The Gays.  My heart was overjoyed and I thought to myself, “I have a super awesome story to tell in regards to coming out (or lack there of), I need to share it with everyone.”  However, this coming out story I wanted to tell was also entwined with me getting myself completely shit faced the night before, so I was not in a position to write anything, let alone anything coherent.

So, my apologies to everyone, as this is a day late.  However I promise to make it interesting.

Sunday night my brother and I (we both work together) were at a company meeting near Columbus.  At these overnight company meetings there is always free alcohol.  God bless them.  I will normally drink one or two to get myself drunk (I’m a cheap date, what can I say?) but not to the point where I’m nearly blind and stumbling about like a raging alcoholic.  However, this Sunday was a little different.

We met another person at the meeting.  We shall call him Bob.  I got a sneaking suspicion that he was gay, but I blew it off, as he was married and even had his 16 year old son with him at the party.  Bob decided that my brother and I needed to drink more.  And more.  And more.  At the end of the night, I had 10 drinks consisting of beer, whiskey sours, and also Manhattans.  Needless to say, I was beyond drunk.  At one point during the evening I went to the bathroom and had to call my brother on my cell phone to get directions back to where everyone was.

However, the particulars of the evening isn’t important (they are a hoot, but I won’t belabor this post with such.  If you’re interested, I’ll tell you the particulars of my molesting in an email, as they are comical).  The point is that Bob was getting my brother and I drunk so that he could have sex with us.  Bob, the married guy for 20 years and his 16 year old kid with him, wanted to be involved with us, in the biblical sense.  Actually, he was more interested in my brother.  I’ve never been used by another man to get to my straight brother.  It’s a special sort of cheap feeling that really makes you feel like a respectable lady.  But, I digress.

I thanked my brother the next morning, as I was wondering how my aim was so bad I threw up on the bathroom wall, for stopping me.  I’m sure I  would have slept with him because I was so inebriated.  Well, at the very least, I would have passed out naked and he would have sodomized me.  But there would have been sex had, even if I wasn’t conscious enough to enjoy it.

So, what does this have to do with National Coming Out day?

It saddens me to see people, in this day of age, to pretend that they are straight.  Here we are, trying to fight for equal rights, and you have these assholes taking the easy way out.  Can they not see that, by staying concealed, that people would just think that we’re hiding from something, that we’re ashamed of who and what we are?  Don’t they see that, by being open, people around them think to themselves “Hey, maybe The Gays aren’t that bad?”  Don’t they see what they are doing to their spouse, cheating on them and potentially bringing STDs into their relationship?

It got me thinking yesterday, as I was freaking out because I was still drunk when I woke up, that if blacks could just “hide who they were,” would their acceptance be as high as it is today?  Not to say that it’s perfect by any stretch of the imagination.  But it’s a hell of a lot better then the segregation/get to the back of the bus nonsense.

Maybe, just maybe, if all of The Gays would stand up and proudly announce their queerness to the world, that people would look at us, not as freaks and deviates of nature, but as just normal people.

Drunken Thoughts On Religion

I’m going to be clear on a few points before I get started.

1)  This isn’t a debate on region.  This is nearly some random thoughts thrown out that have been churning in my head.

2) If you’re easily offended, I would strongly leave now.

3)  This may not make much sense and will be disjointed.  I’ve been sitting here, watching tv, while drinking a bottle of wine while watching my first episode of Glee, “Grilled Cheesus.”  Yes, I know, I’m the worst gay ever for never watching this show.  I shall go to confession to have my soul cleansed for such blasphemy later.

Now that we have the disclaimers out of the way.

While watching the episode of Glee it struck me that almost every gay man that I know of felt the same way as the gay kid in regards to religion.  There’s only a small handful of us gays that haven’t turned their backs on God (at least in this region and my observations on the internet, your viewpoints may vary).

As someone that was raised in the conservative Christian household, this should upset me greatly.  However I find myself in the same boat as the other gays and I’m unsure as to how I feel about this.  How can you embrace a religion that has seemed to have tossed us aside like an unattractive baby?  I may be a masochist but even I have my limits.  Who wants to go to church and pay lip service to a deity that will toss you into the fiery pit as soon as look at you?  Of course, this is also just some people’s interpretation.  Maybe they’re wrong.?  Maybe we’re wrong?  Maybe none of us is right?

I have a fairly scientific mind.  I want to be able to look at, examine, touch, analyze something and come up to a conclusion.  However I find religion and faith a perplexing subject.  I hear people say “look at the trees, how the universe works” and I just find myself shrugging my shoulders.  Science can explain most of that, even if we can’t now due to our lack of knowledge.

I keep thinking back to Star Trek (pick a particular show) where they meet up with  a less-advanced society where they believe the Star Trek crew are gods/magicians and I can’t help but think that maybe this is the same thing as our various deities.  Maybe the world can be explained by science and mathematical algorithms?  Maybe God/whoever works through science to perform these and they just aren’t “poofed” into existence?

I’m sure we’ll never know in my lifetime, so what do I do?  Do I believe out of fear of being tossed into the pits of hell or will it even matter because I’m gay so it’s an express one-way ticket into Satan’s harem?

I remember when I asked Jesus to be my savior.  I was fairly young and I should have been sleeping.  However I prayed and asked for salvation.  And I waited.  I was waiting for some “experience.”  A ray from the heavens to shine on my face, a tingling in my foot, slap across the face, any type of emotion…but I felt nothing.  Like I could have been just laying there in bed and thinking about paint drying and I would have felt the same thing.

That bothered me.  Immensely.  I heard people speak of being saved, experiencing this weight being lifted, everything was going to be OK, that they could never have made it through this traumatic experience without having God to turn to.  And here I was, unmoved, this blasphemous queer.  Did I do it wrong?  Did I forget to do 3 circular spins around while saying the proper phrase?  Questions, questions, questions.

The only time I feel “close to God” is through song.  I guess this is what reminded me of this topic while watching Glee, especially with it being about religion.  I heard that heavier black girl sing and I just closed my eyes and just let it flow through me.  There are few people’s voice that can do that to me.  It literally gets me high, where I can’t even keep my eyes open, and I feel the energy penetrate me and just soothe my soul.  It’s not often that music brings me to shamefully cry on the couch.

It’s not just religious music that does this.  I’ve even had rock music do it to me.  Could this be my God, my salvation?  Maybe we find our own God our own way?  Last Easter my mom asked me to come to their church for service.  I’m guessing she asked me because she’s concerned for my soul, as I don’t attend church.  She was surprised that I actually showed up.  And again, I sat there, bored, feeling nothing, only feeling a small twitter during one or two songs.

I wish I could be like them.  Go to church every Sunday, singing praises to a God I KNOW exists, confident that, no matter what, I’ll be going to Heaven, sing with the angels, and dance on the streets of gold.

But I can’t.  I can’t say for certain on anything.  And that scares the hell out of me.

Hide Your Children, We Are Coming

I’m writing this a day early.  If the gay mafia kills me for coming forward and releasing this information, I left strict instructions with a friend to release this information in the case of my untimely demise because the public needs to know the truth.  The public must be made aware of this very real threat.  You hear about it on Fox News, your churches, and bath houses.  The truth that I am speaking about is “The Gay Agenda.”

Us gays have monthly meetings to discuss our current battle plan, how we are corrupting the media (specifically CNN and MSN News; Fox News currently is outside of our grasp, hence why it’s “fair and balanced”), and how we can convert as many young boys into our lifestyle.  Yes, you heard me right.  Hide your sons and daughters.  We are out to molest them, teach them lies about love, when all we want to do is to convert them into the fold and rape them.  In the ass.  It’s what us gays do, we have no shame or limits.

Heterosexuals will have no rights and will be used as cattle.  We will wipe most of you out and only keep a few of you alive and use you as a human farm, as we can not reproduce ourselves.  However, we will not zap you with cattle prods.  We will keep those for ourselves, as it’s quite difficult to play “Cowboy Ranch” without them.

We are also pushing legislation right now through the Senate and House in the United States to ban leggings in all of their various devilish incarnations (Jeggings are still not acceptable, sorry @SaraPlaysHouse).  That “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”repeal bill that was kicked to the side like a sick diseased dog?  It was just a smoke screen for the public.  Our real agenda was in a little known bill that was passed to outlaw leggings.  Silly, easily manipulated straighties.

Now that we have the stupidity out of the way.

For about as long as the “gay issue” has been thrust into the public eye, I’ve always heard about the “Gay Agenda.”  And, I’ll be honest, I have no idea what it is.  I’m pretty sure that it has to do with “The Gays” getting treated better than the heterosexuals of the world, but I could be wrong, as the people that throw the phrase around can’t really nail down a definite definition (side note, I’m super sure it also includes gay marriage, but I won’t tackle that topic until at a later date).  I also hear the arguments about how gays/transgenders/etc shouldn’t have specific hate crime legislation because, of course, this makes us special.

Yes, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy that law makers feel it’s necessary that they need to draft special legislation to help protect me and my partner from thugs to beat us within and inch of our lives just because we were walking down the street, holding hands.  Or they just listened to me talk because I.  Sound.  Super.  Duper.  Gay.

But I think I strayed from the topic slightly.  The Gay Agenda.

My partner Mike was talking to me about a recent trip to his parent’s house the other month.  I did not go, as I value my sanity and, at times, his family makes me want to drink a bottle of Drano for sweet, sweet relief.  So, apparently, at said family function, Mike was in another room when he heard his brother adamantly discussing “The Gay Agenda” with Mike’s father and a few other people that I don’t recall.  Apparently we are trying to destroy the very nature of heterosexual existence, soil the good name of marriage, and other devilish, diabolical nonsense.  So, Mike heard this and walked into the same room as them.  Oddly, they stopped talking when they saw Mike walk into the room.  Mike then informed them to continue with their conversation, as they don’t need to stop talking because he walked into the room.  I’m disappointed to report that they didn’t start up the conversation again.

I wish Mike would have been more direct in his approach.  I’m sure he was thrilled I wasn’t there and pipped in.  My pretty mouth tends to get me into trouble, as some days I forget to install my verbal filter.  I would have actually sat down with them and we would have discussed, together, the Gay Agenda.  I would have told them of our plot, the time line, and even discuss our weaknesses to assist them in thwarting our scheme.  And do you know why I would have done that?  To make them look and feel incredibly stupid.

There is no Gay Agenda, except one.  We just want to be treated the same as everyone else.  I guess that’s never screamed to me as a political or social agenda.  It’s just basic human rights.

Don’t we all deserve at least that?

From A Child’s Perspective, Not A Parent’s

I’m a big fan of scarymommy.com.  I find her comments witty and insightful, even if I am not a parent (see my last post on why, thankfully, I am not reproducing https://cornfieldqueer.wordpress.com/2010/10/05/i-wont-be-little-johnnys-daddy/ ).  I actually stumbled upon her blog by Twitter.  One of the various gay news (I believe it was @gaymarriagewatc if you’re interested) mentioned this pro-gay marriage post, written by a guest blogger, my girl @SaraPlaysHouse.  Here’s the article, if you’re interested; I’ll wait.


Then today another guest blogger wrote on keeping the gays away from her children, essentially.  Again, I want you to read it because this is the part I want to discuss.


I see the commenters discussing this from a parent’s point of view.  Of course, this is expected because this is essentially a mothering/parenting blog, the very nature of your followers will be as such.  I’d like to discuss the ramifications of such views on the kids that they are “protecting.”

I read her post and what she was describing as their home life was nearly identical to mine (except for the no tv part.  That’s just cruel).  I could close my eyes and imagine my mom baking chocolate chip cookies on Friday nights and her slapping my wrists as I try to steal some delicious dough (seriously, as an aside, it’s just wrong to cook cookie dough.  It’s meant to be eaten raw/frozen), going to church every Wednesday/Sunday (Never.  Missed.  One.), having story time before bed and reading over Bible stories, praying nightly, the whole shebang.  I was raised in a very conservative home, I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

When I came out to my parents when I was around 16 (well, they found some porn on the computer of the gay persuasion..opps), it was a mildly traumatic experience.  I was tossed around to my youth pastor (one of the most humiliating experiences in my life, btw) and various councilors, trying to figure out what was wrong with me and how to fix me.  I was a broken, immoral queer and I needed to be cleansed.  You have no idea how many times I wanted my life to end because I was made wrong.  Have you ever felt like that?  Believing in a deity that made you wrong?  You knew that you couldn’t help who and what you were, so the God that you’ve worshiped diligently your whole life Made.  You.  Wrong.

So, here I am today, a 29+1 year old queer in the middle of a cornfield, surrounded by people such as this.  I can tell you that it did get better though.  I know that my family loves and supports me.  I know that my father believes I’m still a sinner and that God doesn’t approve of me, but it’s ok (?  I know, contradiction for the win…but however he needs to sell it to himself).  I know that my brother is accepting of me and I even work with him.  I know that, if it wasn’t for me, my family wouldn’t be accepting of gays, at all.

But it’s because of this broken queer that I fixed my family because I’m a proud, gay man in a stable relationship with the man that I love for nearly 9 years.  They see that I’m happy, that I’m not immoral, and that I’m capable of loving someone of the same sex.  It’s because of me and people like me that, hopefully, this cycle of hatred will not be continued.

Stand up and be proud, queers.  Speak with a loud, determined voice, showing those that wish to reject us of basic human rights that we are not broken.

We are just human beings, wanting to be loved.

I Won’t Be Little Johnny’s Daddy

I get asked on occasion if I have children and I proudly tell them that, no, I do not have any children.  They then come to one of two conclusions:

  1. My junk just don’t work (this would apply to those that are unaware I’m gay, because they’re blind, deaf, or dumb, or any combination of the before-mentioned illnesses).
  2. I’m unable to adopt because the Himalayan Whistle Kid is out of my price range (they know I can never lower myself to buy non-imported goods).

They are then horrified to learn the truth that I do not have any children by choice.  They look at me as if I have 2 headed quadriplegic prostitute standing outside a church, singing Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back.”  I know that all parents say that all children are a blessing, “with your own children it’s different,” and various other delusional propaganda that people try to sell you.

I have no desire to talk baby speak to children, clean up poop, be stressed if the babysitter is sick and OH MY GOD I’m going to get fired if you’re late one more day and little Johnny can not find his shoes!!!!!!  I can barely manage myself some days, what makes people think that I can also manage another living being that, literally, depends on me for survival?  I would be ok with having kids if they were out of their teenage years.  I don’t want to be a slave to them for several years then, as soon as they hit their teen years, I’m some mindless monster for, OMG, telling them to clean up their room.  Worst.  Parent.  Ever.

I would just want kids to take care of me when I’m older and brain dead.  However, at that point in the ballgame, I probably wouldn’t be lucid enough to care, as I will be hopped up on enough drugs to choke an elephant, God willing.

And, while we’re on the subject, WHY am I a freak for not wanting to procreate/adopt a little Asian boy?  I know that when people think of a stable gay relationship they think of the two daddies/mommies skipping down the sidewalk, hand in hand, with their Siamese twins joined-at-the-head Chinese girls in matching side-by-side strollers.  However, I’m not one of them.  Sure, I skip.  I’m a master skipper and I put my queer peers to shame.  I just don’t think I have the time or energy to invest in a little one.

Ok, sure, if it would happen by accident (“Mike, I haven’t bled out of my ass in a little over a month, I’m pretty sure I missed my period.) I could rearrange my life.  Or get an abortion or give it up.  But accidents don’t happen in gay relationships (unless I cheat on Mike with a woman…I guess that would get us onto Maury Povich!).  This child would involve a LOT of money, lawyers, and paperwork.  And there isn’t anything accidental with lawyers and paperwork.

And, finally, seriously.  Can you see this sexy guy driving around in a mini-van, hauling my child/children all around the area to soccer practice, ballet (if they’re a male).  I think we can all answer with a resounding “No.”

Being Queer & Living Through High School

Since earlier this week, the media has been ablaze with stories of these high school/college students that have been committing suicide due to the pain of being gay.

However this post is not about it, at least not directly.  I can’t say anything different about everyone else has said about these tragedies, as much as I would like.  I will just say a blanket “You are special, you will make it through this, and it will get better.”  This, I promise to each and every person struggling through high school, gay or straight.  This problem goes beyond sexual orientation.  This problem involves our youth and being thrown to the bitchy adolescents that will rip apart your soul and mind and feed it to rabid dogs.  However.  It.  Will.  Get.  Better.  I promise.  /hugs

But, like I said, this post isn’t about this, at least not directly.  As I am self-obsessed, I would like to talk about me.  And, strangely, this doesn’t even discuss an experience with high school.  This has to do with my parents, my father specifically, and a conversation I had with him over supper one night.

This happened about 8 months ago or sometime around there.  Mike was gone for weeks at a time for work and, because I’m super sad when it comes to my culinary skills, I turned to my mommy for food.  I knew that my mommy “wouldn’t let her poor baby starve,” so I knew that I could count on her to feed me when Mike, aka my personal chef, was out of town.  So, anyways, we were eating supper at their house when dad announced his Big Idea.

Now, I will first start off that my dad is a good man.  He has the best of intentions and is genuinely a nice guy, as he was raised in the cornfields and possessed by the evil force that resides in the corn fields (see “Children of the Corn”).  However, having said this, sometimes he’s quite insane.  Mad, even.

Anyways, he goes on to explain to me his grand idea.  He wants to start up a gay support group for this area.  At first I find this to be a great idea, as this area needs something like this.  We are a small burb in the middle of no where and having a gay support group for teens, and adults alike, can go for help in dealing with the hell of coming out.

However, before expressing my support, I was reminded of me coming out to my parents.  Remembering the shame of, after coming out to my parents, being forced to discuss this with my youth pastor and then taken to a councilor to see what was wrong with me, I asked dad what he was planning on preaching at such a support group.

I then saw dad fidget.  And when my father fidgets, I know what is going to come out of his mouth is not good.  At all.

“Well, I want to tell them the truth.  The truth that, even though what they’re doing is sinful, it doesn’t mean that God doesn’t love them.  And I’d like for you and Mike to help me.”

So, you want to tell emotional and possibly unstable youth that what they’re feeling, doing, and being is wrong?  I mean, in what fantasy world do you think that this is supportive and helpful?  Gay teens are, what, twice as likely to kill themselves versus their straight counterparts.  You might as well just give them a sharp kitchen knife and tell them the correct way to cut themselves.  And then, to want me and my lover/boyfriend/butt buddy to preach that to them?

“Yes, we are the poster child of this sermon!  We know that we are living in sin but it’s SUPER.  DUPER.  OK!”

Sometimes my father gets super excited to help people, I get that.  But he really needs to think things through before even bringing the subject up outside of his head.

So, essentially, I answered his question with the following, “Gay teens are highly emotionally charged and if you tell them that what they’re doing/who they are isn’t OK instead of being accepting you will do more harm then good.”

He then asked if any of my gay friends would be interested in going to such a group.  Obviously he didn’t hear me about doing more harm then good.  Maybe he’s just looking for a large audience to push over the edge, not concerned with the repercussions.

And, hello, I live in the middle of the cornfields.  WHAT GAY FRIENDS!!??  I had to whore myself out on the internet to find Mike and I won’t even discuss on the internet what I had to do to convince him to move over here with me, next to the horses and cows.

And my father was shocked that I didn’t have gay friends.  Because, obviously, gay people belong to a secret club and I have access to the member roster.

And to be honest, Mike and I tried to have gay friends.  But said gay friends always wanted to just have sex with us.  And I wouldn’t be totally against such a proposal, but they always end up being slightly stupid.  Sorry, I can’t sleep with stupid.  Ugly, however, I can fix with a pillow case over their head (if I tell you that I’d like to play “KKK Clan Member Butt Sex,” then sorry you fall into the ugly crowd).  But I digress.

After many heated, yet carefully crafted, sentences, I think I convinced Dad that his idea was sheer madness and no one deserved being told that being who they were was wrong.  So with a few well spoken words I saved some of our queer youth in the area mental anguish.  Go Me.

And to those that are living through hell, aka High School, right now.  Trust me guys.  It does get better.