I doubt often.

It was over a year ago that I heard God say, “I will find you in this.” This, meaning, my relationship with Joey. He’s shared a lot of other similar words:

~ No matter where you go or what you choose, I’ll go with you.

~ The purpose of this season is to teach you unconditional love. You’ve never really known it.

~ I’m not scared of this.

~ I’m not too proud to demand my way. We co-labor.

~ There are bright days ahead.

Growing up in a Christian school, Christian home, Christian church (literally everything was Christian), you would hear this prayer a lot. “LORD, have your way with Jimmy.” This was normally prayed in reference to a dying Jimmy, a sick Jimmy, a lame Jimmy. It hardly ever was prayed for a healthy Jimmy. I always viewed it as the cop-out prayer. It gets you off the hook. If he dies, it’s on the LORD’s hands. Not mine. I still kind of view it as the cop-out prayer. That said, I’ve been praying it.

I’m so unsure as to how my life should go, I started coping out with a “God, I seriously have no clue. This person says this. I thought you said that. But here I am and I love this man. What’s so wrong loving a man? Forget it! Just have your way.” I say it jokingly, but I truly do mean it. As referenced before, I truly believe morality is more about God looking out for your best interest than him waiting for you to fuck up with a switch. That said, I do want His way. But I also don’t want to just take everyone’s word for it. I want Him to decide what’s best for me.

This probably goes back to self-doubt. That’s a killer for me. I’m always doubting my decisions. Buyers remorse is present in a lot more than a store with this guy. As soon as I make a move, I wish I had a receipt. It’s easier to say, “God, have your way.” But I have also been hearing Him say, “I honor your choice. I work with it. I’m producing Good with every decision.”

So here I am, making a decision, trusting God to break it or bless it, trusting He meant it when He said He’d find me in it. But this creates a few things:

  1. It makes wonder at what point is He going to jump from behind a corner you’re about to turn in life and say, “Sike! I’m breaking this shit!” and smashes my relationship. It’s like I’m holding my breath for an explosion.
  2. If things get hard, it quickly turns from, “Oh, we’re having relationship issues” to “Well, no shit this is happening. Serves you right for trying to do this when God say ‘no’. You don’t get help. You’re doing this on your own. You made this mess now clean it up.” When issues come up in our relationship, I have no ground to stand on. It could be the hand of God. No one can stand up to that.

But isn’t this proof that I don’t know unconditional love? If anything, this solidifies that I’m on track because I desperately need to learn this. So my prayer stays the same, and I truly mean it.

“Teach me Your Agape Love. Have Your Way.”


Updates and such

It’s been a while since I chatted about being gay and Christian. Here’s an update.

It’s been a hot second since I’ve written. Not sure if anyone event reads this. But I just need to blast out my thoughts and get them outside myself, they need to be something other than me to make sense of it, externalizing and validating absurd and confusing thoughts. So if you read and this makes no sense, very possible. I like to pretend my thought process is logical, but it’s actually a sprinkler–spraying in all directions to simply return to where I began. Anyway… here we go.

So I have a boyfriend. I probably should have checked the blog post before this to see if I had said that or not yet. We’ve been dating for about a year. Long story short, he was the first guy to take me on a date. Up till that point, I imagined homosexuality as this awful thing that God requires us not to do because He’s looking out for us. So the fact that it hadn’t been satisfying and that every guy I had been with just felt like a mutual usage of each other, fit into my frame of mind. Don’t touch. It burns.

This had been my idea of God’s morality for a while. Raised a Christian, I ran across two verses that have shifted my frame of mind about morality. The first one is John 10:10. It talks about God coming to bring life and Satan trying to steal, kill, and destroy trough deception. The second one is I Corinthians 10:23. This one talks about everything is permissible under the New Testament (the time we now live in after Christ) but not everything is beneficial. So God, in his infinite wisdom and love, has concocted rules to help us benefit us and gain life, while Satan longs to deceive us, painting mirages where there is nothing but sand to rob us of life.

This was homosexuality for me. It’s bad because it’ll hurt me, and it had up until then. I went from zero to twenty-two in less than two months flat. Virgin to slut is a fine line, a fine line that left me wanting and feeling used. I came to believe that men just mutually use each other. That is until I met Joey.

Joey is an odd duck. If you were to meet him, you would not think he’s gay. That is if you were to prejudge him based upon our society’s very narrow-minded view of the stereotypical gay man. The guy loves guns, working out, and has a hard time sharing his emotions. The guy has a pretty hard and spiky exterior. Sarcasm is his native tongue and he brags about how no one ever knows if he’s not doing well.

All these “great” attributes are not the reasons I’m attracted to him. I’m attracted to him because beneath it all is a heart of gold that deeply cares. Beneath it all, there’s a man who deeply loves me and has pursued me furiously.

Pursuit. It’s a powerful thing. Dating Joey has shown me how much I’ve craved this, so much so that I’ve pulled away at times, just to be pursued. Not the healthiest of decisions. But the longing for it is deep and powerful. It made me realize that that’s the reason I hooked up with so many guys.

It felt so good to just put up a picture and bio and get messages.


It felt so good to walk around naked in a bath house and have guys look at me.


It felt good to have a friend chase me and want to be with me above anyone else.


Whether a friendship, hook up, or mentorship, there’s been this desire in me to be chased, to be pursued, and it’s been there a while… 

I’m seven-years-old. I’m playing tag… always. I’m twelve; I’m walking the fence, hoping someone will wonder why and walk with me. I’m fifteen. I’ve sat on the side of the building of my private school, hoping someone would notice I don’t sit with everyone else and sit with me. I’m twenty-seven. People ask me how I am. I always say, “okay”, hoping that people will ask, “No. How are you really?”

I love prying. I don’t know why Gary Chapman did not include it in his five love languages. Screw gifts. I feel loved when people keep asking questions, pulling back the layers, curiosity carrying them forward.

Pursuit. It’s a beautiful thing, and I crave it.

I think that’s why the idea of ending up with a woman is so hard sometimes. Growing up, I was taught that there are gender roles, and they should be followed with the strictest of care. To deviate makes you looks like the other sex, and that’s frowned upon. And you know who does the pursuing? Men. Gender roles will definitely be a blog post for later, but in short, let’s just settle with there is a lot of shame in the idea of letting a woman pursue me.

So where does that leave me? How do I satisfy this deep desire?

Men. Men pursue. I can have a man pursue me, and a man has pursued me… for one year now, and it is the most confusing, exhilarating, frustrating, addictive, abhorred thing I have ever done.

First and foremost, there’s morality. As recalled earlier in this blog, I view the morality of God as God looking out for our best interest, as God acting as a Father that knows better. So if he told me “no” to homosexuality in His book, this means that I should not do this, and because I am, I’m looking behind every corner for the demon or the con, the catch to this “happy ever after”.

And I ain’t gonna lie. I’ve found a few.

First off, I wanna give a hand to anyone that has secured a same-sex relationship that has lasted longer than a few years. Navigating a same-sex relationship has felt like a mine field. I’m not sure where to step or even if I should. Should I go left and he go right? What about when we both jump here? Will that trigger the mine? So those that have marriages and families as a same-gender couple, bravo. You guys are champs. It’s not easy, and here’s why.

  • PDA. You don’t get to do this freely. You’re always wondering how people are going to respond to this. You’re always wondering who’s watching. Kisses are snatched in the safety of shadows. Hand-holding is attempted with anxiety running down the spine. In short, you are always looking over your shoulder.
  • The closet. Both my boyfriend and I are not completely out. Not only do strangers have opinions of you and your love life (of which they have no right to), but your loved ones do too. So when you finally come out to them, if you ever have relational issues, you never feel safe talking to them. Why? Because they won’t fight with you for the relationship. You’re scared that if they’re not saying, “I told you so” and “This is why dating a guy isn’t a good idea”, they’re at least saying it in their head. You have no one in your corner, and it makes it so you have to figure out relational problems alone. All my relationships, both family and friend, feel different. They feel strained. That everyone is just tolerating this relationship. I miss how our relationships were. So much so that I often think about abandoning my boyfriend for the hopes of regaining the way the relationships uses to function.
  • Sex. Not gonna lie, if I end up with a girl, this is the main reason. I love the kissing and the intimacy with my boyfriend. But the sex? Sex is rough, and not because of Joey. He’s great. I panic all the damn time, and he’s been nothing but patient and loving. But gay sex sucks. Here’s why: in a heterosexual relationship, the roles are set. One person will always do the penetrating. The other will always be penetrated. Not the case with a versatile (where partners switch roles) gay relationships. How does this affect sex? Well, pretty intensely, actually. I’m not a huge fan of being penetrated. It hurts. So I either feel like I’m hurting my boyfriend to pleasure myself and feel like shit cause I’m selfish. Or I’m being penetrated and I’m terrified this is my lot in life–to have sex that I don’t even enjoy for the rest of my life.
  • Wedding day. Because people have opinions of same-sex relationships, the wedding will never be like I imagined it. The people I wanted there won’t be there. People will not be agreeing with our vows, they’ll be tolerating our vows.
  • Family. I will never get to make babies with the person I love. We can have surrogates. But this freaks me out because the child’s mother won’t be in their life and if we have a lot, it could become “my kids against your kids”. So we could adopt. But what about that child’s upbringing? They will be teased their entire lives, and that will be my fault. And regardless of surrogates or adopting, we will never have a child that is both of ours. It’s just not possible. Our love will never procure life.
  • Ministry. I have always wanted to spend my life as a missionary or a minister. I love talking about the Love of God and seeing miracles. Whether because of everyone else’s opinions or my own internalized condemnation, the reality of ministry while being gay seems impossible. I have to pick one or the other.

So overall, gay love seems pretty sucky for me. Then I research. Maybe this is just me. But when I look around, it seems like gay love is riddled with pain. So many gay men commit suicide or are plagued with anxiety or have tons of partners. If you were to watch a gay and lesbian romance film on Netflix, you’d find a story of heartache, not hope. Does this mean that gay love isn’t supposed to work? I truly wonder this sometimes. When I pray, like I have been for over a year now, “God have your way,” I almost always imagine God destroying my relationship with Joey and “getting me back on track”. I rarely see Joey and I living in a cabin with our three kids smiling as the sun sets behind the mountains, a whiskey in my hand and a lemonade in his. I see me meeting a woman, wondering the globe with her, and Joey and I securing a friendship. That’s the best case scenario that is the easiest to envision. But all that

Does this mean that gay love isn’t supposed to work? I truly wonder this sometimes. When I pray, like I have been for over a year now, “God have your way,” I almost always imagine God destroying my relationship with Joey and “getting me back on track”. I rarely see Joey and I living in a cabin with our three kids smiling as the sun sets behind the mountains, a whiskey in my hand and a lemonade in his. I see me meeting a woman, wondering the globe with her, and Joey and I securing a friendship. That’s the best case scenario that is the easiest to envision. But all that said, when I pray, “God, have Your way”, I don’t hear God saying that that is the ending. I feel like He’s not giving me the ending. I feel like He says, “What if my way is stripping you of condemnation and shame to walk wholly and holy before me? What if the story is better than any version you can conjure up? What if I am walking with you no matter what and that I will turn it all for the good like I said I would? What if?”

I’ve begun releasing what “His will” should look like. But does that mean that I’ll end up with Joey? I have no clue. Religion aside, I really don’t know if this is what I want. But the idea breaking up with Joey sounds terrible. I don’t want to break his heart, and I’m not sure that this is not what I want. Joey is an amazing man. Do I think that we work well together (probably another blog post)? No. And I think that’s where I’m at. Religion and what other people think pushed to the side is this what I want. I genuinely don’t know. You’ll probably hear a lot of that coming up here over the next few posts. Ps, I’m not good at consistently. So I have no clue when you’ll get the next post. Blogging is not so much for other people. It’s for me, getting my words out there and simply validating them, saying they matter to make sense of them. Back before modern medicine, bleeding out was a way of purifying the body, of getting out the bad. That’s how writing feels for me–bleeding out. But not for some sadistic cause, but cathardic.

Anyways, there’s your first one since a hot second.

Stagnation | Progression

It’s a bogeling and trivial thing to meander over thoughts such as purpose destiny and longing , while your life seems to be in park. I’m not talking about that apathetic outlook, in which one chooses a standstill due to a lack of motivation, unable to overcome emotional inertia. Mine’s worse. I’m not in idling with the gear in “P.” I’ve been towed away and a yellow boot has been put on my wheel. I cannot go anywhere if I tried. I’mm stuck, broke and penniless.

I’m not quite sure if money truly makes the world go round. It could simply be an all-powerful being somewhere out there. But about a my cheezey metaphor for life, money definitely puts literal gasoline in my literal car, making it go literal places.
Being broke is a bitch.

However, here’s a thought–though I crave progression, longing for forward motion, though in another life I was a bohemian hippie nomad, there is something happening behind the bars of stagnation–simply being.

I’m one to be entirely wrapped up in the task and accomplishment at hand. I throw all I have at them. I’m currently producing an audio theatre piece. I’m contacting actors, rewriting the script, scheduling sessions, and the fact that I can’t reach my audio engineer is driving me to the brink of insanity. Why? Because I can’t stand lack of motion.

I’m also currently a “partner” at the famous “Green Lady.” Since my writing career, or lack there of, is nowhere near “taking off,” I have to pay the bills with latte and coffee brewing. I promise you, it’s not that interesting. However, as I’m trained int he way of Starbucks, I can’t help but mull over beverage routine and recipe cards.

It’s not healthy. Not healthy at all.

All this said, I’m someone obsessed with doing. I find purpose and identity in the happenings of life. No wonder I feel purposeless. I’m trying to conjure up destiny inside a crappy cappuccino.

But we’re more than what we do.

Me, being a male, has nothing to do with what I do. It has everything to do with whether or not I have a penis. While wandering through Europe and India this past year, busying myself with humanitarian efforts and works of faith, I lost myself. But on the State bound plane ride home, as the earth dropped further beneath me, a prompt was whispered in the depths of my heart.

“It’s time to be, not do.”

The sentiment has rung true. But the initial excitement has long since dissipated. It’s not fun finding yourself sitting on a stagnant sea. Who goes to the beach to watch a motionless body of water? No one.

But it’s only when the sea stills, that a reflection becomes distinguishable. But more than a reflection, if that sea were to sit still just long enough, the dust settling, the water becoming crystal clear, you could stare past that mere reflection to the depths of the ocean floor, discovering the beauty of the coral beneath.

What will we find as the sea murk nestles below? What if the deepest parts of us are discovered, not by digging, but simply being?

My meanderings as of late.