A bit about me...

Now, a little bit of background information; as I mentioned in my previous, initial post, I was raised in a wonderfully tight-knit Christian family - Christian of the Southern Baptist persuasion. My family, very nuclear and WASP-y, consists of my mother and father (married over twenty-five years), my little sister, and myself. As I said, I'm extremely close with both of my parents: my mother - stunningly beautiful, outlandishly outgoing southern belle/homecoming queen/retired beauty queen (think Delta Burke) - and father - Mom's perfect foil, a bit more reserved and conservative, filled to the brim with a very dry wit and pitch-perfect timing. Then there's my sister, a few years younger than me who's currently experiencing The Change and beginning to drive my parents crazy. She's a preteen with the body of an eighteen year old, sporting a full-face of makeup, long Chi-straightened hair, and expensive clothing. Mom and Dad are just hitting the tip of the iceburg; they're only beginning to realize just how much easier it is to raise a boy than it is a girl, even a relatively high-maintenance one such as myself.

So, I'm really close with my family - obvi. But now that I'm away at college and finding out about myself, I'm beginning to experience something that I think all men and women of faith face at one time or another: a test of said faith. For one, the fact that I'm gay already complicates things. I mean, according to what the Jerry Falwells and Pat Robertsons of the world say, I'm going to hell. And, truthfully, if one reads the Bible and takes what it says at face value, their views are justified. I suppose that's what the biggest problem is for me. The fact that the Bible so candidly dismisses something that is so much more than just sex is creating a colossally-huge obstacle in my walk. How am I supposed to invest my faith in a god that sees me as this despicable perversion - this abomination - when I have absolutely no control over what I'm feeling? And if I'm being completely and totally honest, I don't think I really want to worship that kind of god. I mean, I've never been in love before - I've found that I'm not capable of loving a woman the way that I fantasize about love, or the way that my parents fell in love almost thirty years ago...

Is this just my cross to bear? Am I just supposed to suck it up and be alone for the rest of my life? That hardly seems fair. Am I supposed to fight these natural urges until the day I take in my last breath? People argue that alcoholics have to fight the urge to drink on a daily basis, but abstaining from drinking and abstaining from a lasting emotional relationship with someone are two completely different things. Eliminating alcohol from your life makes you healthier, both physically and psychologically; being alone, deprived of something so many other people get to experience makes you lonely and miserable. Trust me, I know. It kills me whenever a hot gay guy takes an interest in me and I have to turn away and "play it straight", simply because I don't want to commit a sin. But lately, the natural desires for an all-encompassing, emotionally-explosive relationship with a man - something no woman in this world can provide for me - is causing me to question even the simple existence of a god up above. And that worries me so much. The Bible has always been a crutch for me, a beacon of hope when times got dark. But now that I'm actually reading it in this daily Bible devotional thing I've been doing, I find myself frustrated as I try to make sense of who I am and who God, apparently, wants me to be.

You see, I think that I always subconsciously knew I was gay. I had crushes on girls (to this day, whenever I see Sophia Bush on One Tree Hill I swoon) but there was always some sort of ... fascination with men that really became evident once I entered high school. I always enjoyed the company of girls and was popular with the opposite sex, but the idea of doing anything sexual with them - things most normal straight guys in high school were doing and enjoyed doing - made me uncomfortable. Yet I pushed through the discomfort, forcibly ignoring that queesy feeling my body made that made the simple act of making out with a girl seem like I was violating every single one of my body's natural laws and conformed.

Like I said, I always knew I was gay, but I never really believed it. I'm sure on the surface I probably look very, very gay. I'm not flamboyant, but I certainly enjoy looking good and take great pride in my appearance; not to mention the fact that with other gay guys, their gaydar goes off like a fire alarm whenever they meet me. But all through high school people just began to see me as "The Pretty Boy" who looked kinda gay but really wasn't, probably due to the fact that I would vehemently deny my true sexuality when questions were asked by inquiring parties.

But yeah, so I probably always knew I was gay but I just always assumed it'd all go away and I'd meet some blonde bombshell who'd knock me off of my feet and set me on the right path, the straight and narrow - no pun intended. I even came up with ways to make myself aroused when I was getting intimate with girls - thinking about guys on Myspace that I thought were really hot and such. Not to mention the fact that whenever things really got sexual with girls, we were usually drunk. However, my whole world would really get shaken up this past summer after high school graduation, before I came to college...

I began dating this knock-out girl who I should've totally been smitten with - and I was. I loved talking on the phone with her; I loved cultivating a relationship with her. But the relationship was a shallow, friendly one - hardly the relationship one would expect in an epic love. What I didn't enjoy, however, was the prospect of "doing stuff". To me, "doing stuff" always seemed more like a task - a responsibility, an obligation - than any sort of lusty, carnal desire coming to fruition. I'd skirted the subject of sex by acting like I was some womanizing Adonis on the surface, and people believed - even my close-knit group of friends - but with this girl, it really seemed like we were going to take the top off of the proverbial cookie jar. To most guys, hitting home base with a girl as hot as this girl would've been a dream-come-true; to me, it was a nightmare. Realizing this, the attraction I had for her began to fade until I became almost repulsed; I simply stopped liking her and was, in every sense of the word, intimidated and afraid. And that was when I truly realized that something wasn't right, at least in the context of society's definition of "right".

After that I entered a period of severe depression, realizing that my dreams of being a father and a husband had probably evaporated like a puddle on a hot day. I realized that I was either going to be lonely forever or forced to live a lie in a loveless marriage; in all reality, I wanted to be dead. The prospect of disappointing my parents and breaking their hearts destroyed me. Suddenly a giant anvil of emotion had been strapped across my shoulders and I just wanted to die.

Unfortunately, I can't say that I've completely gotten past this point. I don't think I'll be able to have a relationship without the approval of my parents, because I can't do anything without the approval of my parents, but at the same time, the prospect of telling my parents about this, this hugely important part of who I am, just seems so unfortunately-impossible. The fact that I'll have to reconcile my tested faith with who I am also further complicates things...

Well, I certainly didn't mean to ramble on like that... A little bit of back-story transformed into an autobiography. I suppose that'll be enough for one night, and I hope you enjoyed reading!