Lunch with Jeremy

When I was in high school, I didn’t have many friends. Since I was bullied and outcast daily for being gay, guys in particular stayed far away from me. Even the ones who didn’t necessarily pick on me still didn’t want to be seen talking to me for fear of association.

But there was this one boy. His name was Jeremy. He was a few years older than I am and we met in the lunch room. Every day, he sat across from me with his brown paper bag lunch of a bologna sandwich with mustard, a milk carton (2%), and a bright red apple for dessert.

Jeremy was disproportionally tall and didn’t seem to have completely adjusted to his teenaged body yet. His arms were long and lanky and made the sleeves of his polo shirts look freakishly short. His hair was blond, the golden color of straw, only much softer. He kept it parted down the left side and the front of it fell against his forehead but he kept it brushed to the side as best he could. His face was very bird-like, with a nose and pointed lips that seemed to almost be attached.

He was dorky and unpopular, an outcast like me, but nobody gave him any trouble. In fact, I don’t think anyone even knew he was there. Jeremy was like a ghost. He sat there with his sandwich and milk, staring off in deep thoughts as if something much more signifiant was taking place inside that head of his.

One day, Jeremy turned and look at me, like he’d just awoken from a trance and noticed me there. He extended a cold, bony hand out to me and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Jeremy. How are you today?” And his eyes were bright and friendly, his demeanor very polite. I don’t think Jeremy belonged there in the 1990s. I always suspected he was born in the 1920s or ’30s and had somehow been preserved in a time capsule for decades.

We became fast friends, making small talk about the weather or the news. Like grown men. We never talked about anything too personal or controversial. That seemed to be an unspoken rule. When it was time to eat his apple, he took large bites out of it, like an alligator devouring a small animal. His eyebrows transformed into tall, sharp arches and his whole face contorted. It was kind of scary at first. But I eventually found it endearing and laughed about it secretly. Jeremy had no idea how funny he looked, and it didn’t really matter.

After he was done eating, he threw away his trash and began reading a book. It was a ritual that took place every day, without fail, and when it was time to read, I took the cue to stop talking. I liked reading as well so I took out my book and read with him. We sat quietly until the bell rang, pulling us out of the world we’d been immersed in through our reading. Before leaving, Jeremy made eye contact with me again, letting me know he hadn’t forgotten about me, and told me to have a nice day.

Jeremy and I spent our lunches together for at least 2 years. Over time, the rumors about me became louder and harder to ignore. Jeremy heard them, but I’d never confirmed them, so he seemed to find comfort in believing I was in fact heterosexual. No threat to his masculinity at all. We just sat quietly at the table, making small talk as we ate until it was time to read together.

I really liked Jeremy. I don’t think I was attracted to him, although I sometimes wondered what kind of underwear he wore. I can’t explain why. I was young and curious, and believed underwear could be very telling about a person. I always figured they were white briefs with those elastic waistbands and skinny blue and red stripes around the band. What brand was that? Fruit of the Loom? Whatever they were, I’m certain they were predictable and consistent, just like Jeremy.

One day, when the secret of my sexual orientation became far too heavy to hide, I decided to confide in Jeremy and tell him that most of what he’d heard about me was true. I figured he’d be unhappy about it, but then again, how could he act surprised? He knew me about as well as anybody, at least on a platonic level.

So I told him, “Jeremy, I’m gay.”

He looked away, as if the confirmation was too disappointing to handle. Then he quietly collected his lunch and brown paper bag, got up, and said to me, “I don’t care for that at all.” His words were soft, without judgement or threat. They were just facts. That’s how he felt.

That was the last day Jeremy and I ever had lunch together, or even spoke. And just like a ghost, he faded away. I never saw him in the halls, but then again, I don’t think I ever had anyway. But his absence was known to me, and it made me sad for awhile. It’s weird because I wonder if anyone else at all even knows who he was. If you asked the kids in his graduating class, would they even recognize the name?

But I was reading something last night that reminded me of him. I wondered how he’s doing and what he’s become. I’m almost certain he’s a writer of some sort. And the thing is, I’m not sure if I ever truly believed he was offended by my admission of being gay. Instead, I think he was more disturbed by the personal nature of my comment. Almost as if he was incapable of that level of honesty from another human.

So that’s my story of lunch with Jeremy. In a way, I think he was one of my greatest friends, even if he didn’t understand me at all.

Just Because It’s Your Right Doesn’t Mean You’re Right

Although the First Amendment protects what we say, that doesn’t always mean it’s in good taste to say it.

I was recently disappointed to see the use of the word “fag” in an article on one of my favorite humor websites. Although the website is famous for crude, snarky editorials, the writers never pick on specific groups of people… Until now.

From a writing standpoint, I am very much aware that they are free to use whatever words they want. But just because they have the right to use these words does not mean it is right to use them. (A little play on words there.) When I point this out, some people are quick to argue, “Hey, you’re infringing on freedom of speech. Let me get out my American flag and wave it in your face while I recite the First Amendment to you.”

This has nothing to do with rights or privileges. It’s about courtesy and tact. I decided to write a personal letter to the author and explain my position to him. He wrote me back very quickly and was very thoughtful in his reply.

Here’s a snippet of what he said:
I appreciate that the word has power, though as a heterosexual male I wouldn’t ever claim to understand it as gay person must. I appreciate it can be damaging and have zero intention of dismissing it as “just as word”. However, the word doesn’t lose its impact by trying to remove it from our vernacular.

That’s not true. He’s implying that removing the word doesn’t solve anything. But if nobody said that word, it would be one less word that bullies could use against gay people.

Here is a portion of my reply:
There’s no way to even began to relate the damage it causes from a gay perspective. The best I can do is point out once again that we have gay teens all around us shooting themselves, hanging themselves, slitting their wrists, and taking overdoses of pills. And that word you used is usually a significant contributor to the low self esteem that eventually leads to their demise.

… The word has a domino effect. Someone reads it once and it sends a signal that the word is acceptable. Then they read it again and again, and eventually it becomes part of their vocabulary. One day, they find themselves calling someone else a fag, maybe even as a joke, but that incident gets saved into a gay person’s memory. Rinse and repeat until finally that gay person has heard that word so many times that it begins to break them down… [As a writer] You have a choice whether or not you want to be a contributor to that.

We went through several rounds of this, and I appreciated his willingness to have the discussion. In the end, however, he stood by his decision to make a joke about a “fag” in his article. It was very disappointing to see a straight male try to ration with me that the use of a word is okay when I’ve felt the impact of it and he has not.

Before closing, he paid me this compliment:
Though we’ve never met, I like you. You’re fighting for sensitivity and empathy, two traits this world sorely lack. This is obviously a personal concern of yours, yet you’ve taken every precaution not to resort to personal attacks with me. It shows character and heart.

With that, I just want to say to please know that your words have power. Be careful how you use them. Just because it’s your right to use them doesn’t mean you’re right to use them.

Managing Expectations

I talked to my Mom yesterday and sure enough, things didn’t go well. We’ve talked three times and the fighting continues.

She doesn’t understand why I want her to accept that I’m married to a man. She thinks it should be good enough that she loves me and accepts me as her son. And she’s correct, I’m very thankful that she accepts me as her son. But as my previous post stated, I’m not asking for special treatment. I’m merely asking for equal treatment. I want her to respect my marriage the same way she respects my brother’s marriage to his wife.

I’m managing expectations

All relationships have expectations and meeting them is very important for the health of a relationship. I have expectations of my husband, of my friends, of the people I work with.

So I’ve reached a point in my adult life that my family has fallen below my expectations. I’m no longer happy with being the Bert & Ernie at the Thanksgiving dinner table. I’m no longer willing to be the elephant in the room that makes everyone nervous about my nouns when kids are present. This little charade was tolerable in my 20s, even though it drove me crazy. But as I find myself about to enter my 30s, I’ve been evaluating my life very closely and deciding what I want to change about it.

My expectations have changed and in order to grow, I’ve requested some alterations. Will my family adapt to them? It’s too soon to say. But asking is the first step. We can’t complain about our life if we don’t take active steps to change or improve it.

Shockingly calm about everything

God forbid, this is the first sign that my testosterone is mellowing out. I remember the days when I used to get so angry and upset about things like this. I wanted to put my fist through a wall when I got mad. But I’m actually pretty calm right now. It’s not the end of the world, and I know that. My Mom will probably call back for round four, and I know that too. I’m prepared to have another heated argument or debate. It’s unpleasant, but I can handle it.

I was born gay, and I know this. I have the right to be married and to be happy. I know this too. I have an expectation from my family that I want them to provide. I see it with absolute clarity, confidence, and optimism.

It doesn’t mean I don’t love them. It doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being a part of the family. All it means is that they need to try harder.

Uncomfortable

10.17.11
12:45 AM

Dear Mom,

I’ve been thinking about my comfort level these past few days and I have some things I want to get off my chest. I don’t know if I’ll send this letter. I really don’t like to rock the boat. But I’m going to write it anyway, and then we’ll just see how I feel about sending it in the morning.

The reunion was this weekend for the relatives on your side of the family. I told you a few months ago that I really didn’t want to go because I felt like most of my relatives completely dismissed my wedding to Daniel this past April. Since they made it clear that they don’t want to be a part of our big moments as a couple, I figured there’s no point in sitting around making small talk with them.

I thought you’d protest my decision. You always used to encourage me to come to reunions. Sometimes I did so I’d make you happy. And when I didn’t come, I felt really bad about it.

But this year, you had different words. You seemed relieved and told me that was fine. “Really?” I asked in disbelief. I kept waiting for a story about how I should cherish the time we have left with our family. But instead, you confessed that you would have felt uncomfortable with introducing Daniel as my husband.

I brushed it off at first. I wouldn’t want to put you in a position that makes you uncomfortable. I sincerely mean that. I know you were uncomfortable with the wedding itself and I really am thankful that you came anyway. I know you don’t believe it, but you’ll be glad you did someday. I really know it.

This weekend, Daniel and I went to a wedding… A “gay” wedding, I guess. It was two women. One of the women lost her mother just recently. It was a very bittersweet ceremony. The emotion in the air was palpable. She didn’t get to have her mother there on her wedding day. It was such a sad emptiness right there in the middle of such a happy occasion.

And that’s why I needed you and Dad at our wedding. Even if you were uncomfortable, it still mattered for you to be there. If nothing else, I will always be able to look back at that day and say my parents were at our wedding. That’s something our friend who got married can’t say about her mom.

Okay, so 400 words in, I’m getting to the point. Comfort. You stepped out of your comfort zone, but where do we go from there? You took a giant leap forward, but you’re still uncomfortable with the whole marriage topic.

And this leads into a bigger issue — MY comfort. I walk on eggshells to make my family comfortable. I censor the things I say when I’m with the family so that I don’t make anyone uncomfortable with the fact that Daniel and I are married. I censor myself around my brothers, their kids. I go out of my way to be a watered down version of myself just to make everyone else comfortable.

But nobody ever asks me if I’m comfortable. If Daniel’s comfortable. And I’m sorry to sound ungrateful, because I know you’ve done a lot. But on the topic of comfort, I simply don’t feel like this is a relationship where we’re giving fairly.

And relationships are all about balance and fairness. This isn’t as balanced as I’d like it to be. I bet there’s never been a time in your life when you’ve hesitated to introduce Dad as your husband. I bet there’s never been a time in your life that you were relieved if my brother and his wife weren’t coming to a reunion because you were uncomfortable with saying they’re married.

I just want the same fairness that I feel entitled to. I’m not asking you to be the mascot for the next gay pride parade. I just want to be treated as an equal son, with an equal spouse, and get to have the life with my family, with my parents, that you would have given me if I married a woman. I’m not asking for anything “special,” I just want something fair. Something that makes me comfortable for a change.

I can think of half a dozen ways this letter will go awry if I send it. And the mere thought of bringing this up makes me uncomfortable… And will undoubtedly make you uncomfortable too… But hey, what’s the cost of comfort? I feel like I’m paying the price for everyone else’s comfort. When is someone going to give it back in return?

I love you,

Nathan

Justin Bieber Comes Out

…As a lesbian!

C’mon, this is just too much, Biebmyster! I understand you’re part of a progressive new generation that blurs the lines of gender. And I applaud you for refusing to conform to society’s restrictions. But I don’t think you could look any more like a dyke if you tried. I bet you drive a Range Rover and have a Golden Retriever named Daisy, don’t you?

I support you in your lesbianism and hope you have a wonderful future with Selena. Bieber is the new flannel.

Jean-Claude Van Damme Thinks Gay People Are “Tasty”

I’m assuming this quote was a typo that spread like wildfire, but according to this interview, Jean-Claude thinks gay people are just plain delicious.

“Most gay people are very tasty people – they like beautiful stuff in their lives. If they like me, it means they have taste. They don’t follow me for my butt shots. They like me for me.”

— Jean-Claude Van Damme

The quote comes from an interview with Sabotage Times. And while I hate to resort to childish humor, I have to confess it made me laugh.

Nothing wrong with a little humor. I agree that we gay people are very tasty.

It’s Broccoli Botch!

The website Damn You Auto Correct has become my new obsession! It gets me laughing until I cry!

Here’s one of my favorites. I find myself wanting to walk into the room and announce, “It’s broccoli botch!” every where I go. Ha ha!

And here’s another funny one, where a son says he’s come out of the closet, only to be met by his mother saying she always had a hunch. Turns out he meant to type that he was coming out of the clinic instead. Whoops.

If you’ve never been to the site, you should go there now! Just make sure you have the rest of your afternoon free because I guarantee you’re going to be there awhile!

Nathan Exposed Featured in Circumcision Ban Article

I’m excited to announce that a guest post I wrote for my friend DanNation has been published. In the article, I discuss the reasons why I support the ban on circumcision that is being proposed in San Francisco.

When people first heard about the ban, some were apprehensive about supporting it. The word “ban” is usually a bad word, especially in our community. But upon closer inspection, many people now agree that elective circumcision is damaging and unnecessary for newborn boys. The proposed law has gained significant support.

I encourage readers to check out my article. And remember, if you don’t like uncircumcised penises, that’s fine. You don’t have to sleep with men who are uncut. But please, let boys decide for themselves whether or not they want to be circumcised. It’s their penis, afterall.

Read the full article here.

Tennessee, the Home of Anti-Gay Laws

The city of Nashville, which I love so much and affectionately refer to as “Homeville,” has been in the news a lot lately. Specifically, it has been the battleground for several embarrassing and discriminatory laws that have passed by a landslide.

It started last year, when we passed a new law making it illegal to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity. Sounds like an amazing step forward, right?

Well business owners cried foul, saying that this conflicted with their religious beliefs. True story. People actually argued that their personal religious views were being violated if they were not allowed to discriminate against gay and transgender people. (Palm to forehead.)

So the non-discrimination law was repealed and Gov. Bill Haslam signed the repeal tonight. In the year 2011, a state governor actually re-instated a law that says it’s perfectly fine to discriminate against gay people. Wonderful.

Next, we have a law in the works that would make it illegal for anyone in the school system to discuss or even acknowledge homosexuality around children in grades K-8. As an example, let’s say a middle school kid is gay, or perceived to be gay, and he’s being bullied by his peers. He goes to a trusted teacher or mentor to talk about it. Under this law, the teacher cannot discuss it with the child because, according to law, the topic of being gay is forbidden. Yes, forbidden! The teacher could be fired on the spot.

So now being gay has become some type of swear word, which only sends a message to GLBT youth that there is something wrong with them. Wow, what a wonderful solution for all these teen suicides! Make gay youth feel even more outcast by not allowing their teachers to talk with them!

Daniel and I went to a protest event, which is where I took the touching photograph above. There were many straight people with kids there, showing their support for equality and agreeing that there is nothing wrong with gay people.

Despite protests, calls and letters to state leaders, the bill has passed several rounds of voting. It’s sponsored by Stacey Campfield, a member of the TN House of Representatives. The sad thing is that flaming closet case has been passionately pursuing this bill for years! Don’t you just love it when politicians are so deep in the closet, they decide to punish the rest of us with these outrageous laws? It won’t go through the next round until next season, so thankfully it’s on hold for now. I hope during the summer he gets caught in some gloryhole bathroom stall encounter by an undercover cop and voters will see just how hypocritical he is. Maybe then, this stupid bill will be put to rest before it becomes law.

Anyway, this is my long overdue rant about Tennessee’s current politics. These issues have weighed heavily on Daniel and me. As a newly married gay couple in Nashville, we are very sad that the state is constantly finding new ways to strip away GLBT rights.

And it’s a tough topic because these laws do not reflect the view of all Tennesseans. We have many diverse and open-minded communities. Gay and straight people live, work, and socialize peacefully together throughout the state. I really do love this city. I wish the bigots were not doing so much damage in Nashville.

There’s that voice inside that says run away, as fast as we can, to a new state, where we’ll be more accepted. But there’s also a triumphant spirit inside that says we deserve to live here just as much as anyone else. This place is our home too, and we should continue fighting the battle for equality. We have a wonderful support system of family and friends here, so I don’t suppose we’ll be running away just yet. We love them too much to leave right now.

I’m Allowed One Negative Post

I don’t like to complain, so I’ll just do it this one time…

The upcoming wedding has also been very interesting in realizing who is truly on my side. In many ways, it’s shaped how I’m going to interact with my family from now on.

For example, the aunts and uncles who have always been involved in my life suddenly disappeared when the wedding announcement was made. I was stunned. I had a whole list of family members that I felt certain would come, or at least would acknowledge it. But nope. My oldest brother didn’t even bother to return the RSVP card. And my middle brother couldn’t change the subject fast enough when I told him we were working on setting up for the wedding this weekend. Oh, but he suddenly had so much to say about important things, like the weather outside.

Meanwhile, I’ve got family members that I see once every couple of years booking hotels and traveling to Nashville for the weekend. I’ve got classmates that I haven’t seen in 11 years telling me they can’t wait to celebrate our big day. Wow. These are the people I hardly keep in touch with. People I didn’t even realize cared about me.

So I just wanted to bitch and moan about it… Just a little.

I’m incredibly happy. I’m marrying the man I love. I’m going to be surrounded my family and friends who support me. It’s going to be an amazing day. But I just needed to gripe a little about the people who won’t be there… The ones I thought definitely would be. I’m shocked by their absence, but inspired by the unexpected ones who have come forward.

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