We still giggle about that dinner, but there are times I regret we ever taught Julyn how to spot a gay. You see, she's in the theater department at a Church-sponsored school, and -- being lovely, witty, kind, sensitive, "pleasantly plump" (can I say that, Jules?), accepting and delightful young Mormon woman she is -- she's the perfect go-to for those cute Mormon theater boys who just don't want to admit they like other cute Mormon boys; those cute Mormon boys who ask lovely, witty kind, senstive, "pleasantly plump", accepting and delightful young Mormon women out on dates; those cute Mormon boys who lead those cute Mormon girls into quasi-relationships, and then call an abrupt halt without immediate explanation; those cute Mormon boys who often eventually come out as gay to those cute Mormon girls. I admit, I was one of those cute Mormon boys, and I hated myself for it.
Perhaps that's why I feel a guilty pricking in my hard heart when Jules tells Corey and Jess and I about the boys she meets during shows and in class and then asks, with both hope and doubt in the possibitly of R-E-L-A-T-I-O-N-S-H-I-P, "Do you think he's gay? He probably is. He's got most of the signs." I feel that dagger, too, when Jules reminds Corey and I that we promised we'd tell her if we ever thought any boyfriend of hers was attracted to other men. We've opened her eyes, I guess, but I don't know if that's been a good thing. She weighs her dating prospects with a much more searching scale. Perhaps we've made it difficult for any man to pass the "Is he? Isn't he?" test. The things we told her have taught her to feel like her options of marriage-able men are even more slim. I think that thought sometimes causes her great anxiety.
Traditional Christianity teaches that the curse of Eve is pain in childbirth. I sometimes joke that the Eve's real curse was Steve, the other man in the Garden. The one who joined Eve during the big shoe sales at Gabriel's, and who listened to Eve talk about her feelings over a molten lava cake, who kept his hair well-coiffed, whose biceps looked like stone, and whose high-pitched snicker could be heard all over creation. Steve, who who baffled and intrigued and frightened Adam. The joke usually gets a big laugh, but I don't think it's so funny anymore. In fact, it makes me angry. I don't tell it much anymore.
The whole reason there is any sort of "curse" is because, as gay boys in the LDS church, we've cursed ourselves, buying into the idea that we can, or that we should, or that we will someday be cured of homosexual "tendencies" by attempting romantic relationships with our naive young sisters. We are committing a crime in lying to ourselves and to the women we fool, boys, when we think we can date and marry our "guilty question" away. That sort of self-hating dishonesty is the real sin God condemns.
I am eternally grateful that I didn't fool Jules (or myself) any more than I did when we were in high school and in between our missions. I am so happy that our friendship remains, because I know I've burned bridges with other dear girl-friends. I almost believe that the fact that I never pursued any real sort of committed relationship with Jules is because she is the young woman I love best and would keep from harm most. I hope I'm no curse to her, because she has been an incredible blessing to me.
With love to you, Jules. *HEAD-HUG!!!*
Showing posts with label Julyn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Julyn. Show all posts
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Eve's Real Curse, or Why Yes! Every Girl Should Have a Gay Boy, Part I
Julyn has been my best girlfriend since the summer of ninth grade. We have quite a bit of history, as best friends should. She crushed on me in high school, and I also felt a deeply mutual affinity and affection for her (secret: I still do). She's been the singular young woman to drop my jaw (with a shocking authenticity) by just entering a room (picture: Nic standing in the kitchen before a prom, corsage in hand, stopped mid-sentence by this gorgeous girl in pink, capped-sleeve and beaded-bodice wonder). We've held each other in times of deep loss and effervescing joy. She's been a constant woman in my life. And I've been her best gay boy all along, even if neither of us were honest about it until about eighteen months ago.
The week I came out to Julyn was not a good one for her. Another good friend of ours and her sister also had similar discussions with her. She had just started a new job and it seems like midterms were coming up. Three gays in two days is a lot to take in: Jules lost the job and failed a few tests. I felt awful, but being the miracle she is, Jules got over the news, and things have been great ever since.
Except for this one time, when Corey and I did a (maybe) bad thing. Corey, Jules and I drove to Provo to visit another of our best friends, Jessame, who was attending BYU's law school at the time. We met Jessame at her apartment and then headed out for what Corey call's "a twenty-something's idea of a fancy dinner" at PF Chang's. After we'd been seated, conversation took a turn to what Julyn thought would be the difficulty of finding other gay men to date in UT. I spotted a cute waiter--tall, with dark hair and features--and flirted a little bit, getting a prompt, yet furtive glance back.
"How did you do that?!" Jules exclaimed, waving her arms, almost pushing Jessame out of the booth.
Corey and I proceeded to give Julyn the lesson in "How to Spot a Gay." I will now defer to a post of Corey's, listing a few of the things we shared with Julyn that night.
Jessame thought our limp-wristed demonstrations were, simply put, absolutely fabulous. Jules, on the other hand, was less than excited. She was shocked. Mortified. A little panicked.
Trying to make light of a somewhat serious realization, Jules half-joke, "You mean I'm gonna end up marrying some ugly, fat, gut-laden, fart-spewing hick?!" The pain and shock and almost-humour on Julyn's face sent a little guilt my way. Trying to backpedal as quickly as I could, I said, "Oh, Jules, darling! Just marry a man with sisters. That way, he'll have all the benefits of style and gentility, and you can still be his type!"
That mollified her for a while, but only until she started to count up the (possibly) gay boys she kept close.
The week I came out to Julyn was not a good one for her. Another good friend of ours and her sister also had similar discussions with her. She had just started a new job and it seems like midterms were coming up. Three gays in two days is a lot to take in: Jules lost the job and failed a few tests. I felt awful, but being the miracle she is, Jules got over the news, and things have been great ever since.
Except for this one time, when Corey and I did a (maybe) bad thing. Corey, Jules and I drove to Provo to visit another of our best friends, Jessame, who was attending BYU's law school at the time. We met Jessame at her apartment and then headed out for what Corey call's "a twenty-something's idea of a fancy dinner" at PF Chang's. After we'd been seated, conversation took a turn to what Julyn thought would be the difficulty of finding other gay men to date in UT. I spotted a cute waiter--tall, with dark hair and features--and flirted a little bit, getting a prompt, yet furtive glance back.
"How did you do that?!" Jules exclaimed, waving her arms, almost pushing Jessame out of the booth.
Corey and I proceeded to give Julyn the lesson in "How to Spot a Gay." I will now defer to a post of Corey's, listing a few of the things we shared with Julyn that night.
- "Is the facial hair nicely trimmed?
- "Does the hair stick up in any way (ie. a faux hawk)?
- "Are the shoes pointy or at least Italian-looking?
- "Does he have cologne in his car? Hair products?
- "Is his butt tucked as he walks?
- "Are his clothes exceptionally well coordinated? (ie. Does his underwear match the rest of his outfit?)
- "V-necks?
"Is there a gym membership on his key chain? Or a rewards card to any of the following: a high-end clothing store, a shoe store, a book store?"
Jessame thought our limp-wristed demonstrations were, simply put, absolutely fabulous. Jules, on the other hand, was less than excited. She was shocked. Mortified. A little panicked.
Trying to make light of a somewhat serious realization, Jules half-joke, "You mean I'm gonna end up marrying some ugly, fat, gut-laden, fart-spewing hick?!" The pain and shock and almost-humour on Julyn's face sent a little guilt my way. Trying to backpedal as quickly as I could, I said, "Oh, Jules, darling! Just marry a man with sisters. That way, he'll have all the benefits of style and gentility, and you can still be his type!"
That mollified her for a while, but only until she started to count up the (possibly) gay boys she kept close.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Jenny Gets a New Coat - Part III
I walked over to a rack where Jenny was fingering the green scarf she had worn earlier as well as another in a deep maroon shade.
"Ok, Jen," I said, using my most commanding voice, "You're getting the coat."
"But I can't--"
"No, not another word. We're doing this for you because you deserve something nice. It's about time somebody treated you to a thing like this, and we're doing it. Somebody grab that coat before somebody else does. Corey, give Jules your twenty. I'll give her what I've got, too. Jen, you get yourself a couple of scarves. They're two for twelve. You can afford that, right?"
"Yeah, I think so," came the shocked response. "You don't have to do this."
"We know," Corey and Jules both said.
"We're doing it because we want to do something good for you. How did you feel when you put the coat and the scarf on?" Jules asked. "Pretty great, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did."
"Then let us get it for you."
"I'll pay you guys back when I get a little bit of money. Really? You're really doing this?" Jenny couldn't believe it.
I loved every bit. "You bet we are, my dear."
We walked up to the register, where Julyn bought the coat. We walked out to the car, where Jenny promptly put it on. We arrived at the reception just barely in time to see the ring ceremony.
I've thought a lot about how great it made me feel to do something like this for Jenny. I didn't feel any anxiety about giving up a chunk of money that could have paid for a tank of gasoline of a couple of nice dinners with friends. I wasn't worried that I may not see that money come back to me for a while. I wasn't upset about any of that because I was so happy to see my friend happy because she felt good about how she looked. It was totally worth it.
We often hear about people giving the clothes off their backs to show love and support, and Jenny has always done that for all of our friends. She has been one of the first to show love and the last to mete out condemnation when any of us have struggled. She is a beautiful individual, and I want her to see herself as such. I guess, in a small way, we kind of did that for Jen when we bought a coat to put on her back. We did it because we're old friends. We did it, because, really, when it boils down, we've become family. And families -- including the ones we create outside our biological ones -- work best when we build each other up and help each other feel our bests.
And Jenny LOVES her new coat! :D
"Ok, Jen," I said, using my most commanding voice, "You're getting the coat."
"But I can't--"
"No, not another word. We're doing this for you because you deserve something nice. It's about time somebody treated you to a thing like this, and we're doing it. Somebody grab that coat before somebody else does. Corey, give Jules your twenty. I'll give her what I've got, too. Jen, you get yourself a couple of scarves. They're two for twelve. You can afford that, right?"
"Yeah, I think so," came the shocked response. "You don't have to do this."
"We know," Corey and Jules both said.
"We're doing it because we want to do something good for you. How did you feel when you put the coat and the scarf on?" Jules asked. "Pretty great, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did."
"Then let us get it for you."
"I'll pay you guys back when I get a little bit of money. Really? You're really doing this?" Jenny couldn't believe it.
I loved every bit. "You bet we are, my dear."
We walked up to the register, where Julyn bought the coat. We walked out to the car, where Jenny promptly put it on. We arrived at the reception just barely in time to see the ring ceremony.
I've thought a lot about how great it made me feel to do something like this for Jenny. I didn't feel any anxiety about giving up a chunk of money that could have paid for a tank of gasoline of a couple of nice dinners with friends. I wasn't worried that I may not see that money come back to me for a while. I wasn't upset about any of that because I was so happy to see my friend happy because she felt good about how she looked. It was totally worth it.
We often hear about people giving the clothes off their backs to show love and support, and Jenny has always done that for all of our friends. She has been one of the first to show love and the last to mete out condemnation when any of us have struggled. She is a beautiful individual, and I want her to see herself as such. I guess, in a small way, we kind of did that for Jen when we bought a coat to put on her back. We did it because we're old friends. We did it, because, really, when it boils down, we've become family. And families -- including the ones we create outside our biological ones -- work best when we build each other up and help each other feel our bests.
And Jenny LOVES her new coat! :D
Jenny Gets a New Coat - Part II
We all knew she looked good, too, and our chorus of compliments grew in crescendo.
"You've got to get it, Jen," I said. "It's a good, warm coat, and it looks great on you! The way it cinches around your waist is superb -- so flattering." Jenny was just smiles.
And then, she looked at the price tag. One hundred some-odd dollars. A sum far and above what Jenny has ever been willing to pay for any item of clothing she purchases. "No," she shook her head in disappointment and started untying the scarf wrapped around her neck, "I've got some bills to pay and a few other things and payday isn't until next week. Still, it was fun to try it on and pretend for a minute."
"But Jenny," I was incredulous, "it's 50% off."
"It's totally worth it, Jen," Corey concurred.
"And," chimed in Jules, taking the scarf from Jenny's hands, "if I buy it for you 'as a gift,' I can add my employee discount to the sale price."
"I just can't do it right now," Jenny argued.
"What if Corey and I put in the cash, and Jules adds the discount, Jen?"
"And you think of it as your Christmas present," Jules continued.
"And maybe part of your birthday, too?" Corey finished.
Again, Jenny refused, "I'm not going to let you guys do that. That's nice and all, but I just can't have you do that."
Oh, we were disappointed, but that didn't stop us from dressing the rest of us up in coats and sweaters and scarves. We had a grand time selecting winter fashions for each other, modelling our picks for the dressing room attendant, and posing as she took our picture.
When we took our items back to their tables and racks, I took Corey aside. "We've got to do something, Corey. It will be a tragedy if she doesn't walk out of here wearing her coat. It is the last one in her size. I checked. I've got about $40 I can give her for it."
"And I've got about $20. Let's do it," he motioned Julyn over, explaining our idea to buy the coat for Jenny since she wouldn't do it herself.
Jules was all for it. "Did you see how happy she looked when she was wearing it. Sometimes, a girl just needs a good piece of clothing to help her feel good. Give me the cash, and I'll buy it. With my discount, $60 should be about right."
Now, we just had to convince Jenny.
"You've got to get it, Jen," I said. "It's a good, warm coat, and it looks great on you! The way it cinches around your waist is superb -- so flattering." Jenny was just smiles.
And then, she looked at the price tag. One hundred some-odd dollars. A sum far and above what Jenny has ever been willing to pay for any item of clothing she purchases. "No," she shook her head in disappointment and started untying the scarf wrapped around her neck, "I've got some bills to pay and a few other things and payday isn't until next week. Still, it was fun to try it on and pretend for a minute."
"But Jenny," I was incredulous, "it's 50% off."
"It's totally worth it, Jen," Corey concurred.
"And," chimed in Jules, taking the scarf from Jenny's hands, "if I buy it for you 'as a gift,' I can add my employee discount to the sale price."
"I just can't do it right now," Jenny argued.
"What if Corey and I put in the cash, and Jules adds the discount, Jen?"
"And you think of it as your Christmas present," Jules continued.
"And maybe part of your birthday, too?" Corey finished.
Again, Jenny refused, "I'm not going to let you guys do that. That's nice and all, but I just can't have you do that."
Oh, we were disappointed, but that didn't stop us from dressing the rest of us up in coats and sweaters and scarves. We had a grand time selecting winter fashions for each other, modelling our picks for the dressing room attendant, and posing as she took our picture.
When we took our items back to their tables and racks, I took Corey aside. "We've got to do something, Corey. It will be a tragedy if she doesn't walk out of here wearing her coat. It is the last one in her size. I checked. I've got about $40 I can give her for it."
"And I've got about $20. Let's do it," he motioned Julyn over, explaining our idea to buy the coat for Jenny since she wouldn't do it herself.
Jules was all for it. "Did you see how happy she looked when she was wearing it. Sometimes, a girl just needs a good piece of clothing to help her feel good. Give me the cash, and I'll buy it. With my discount, $60 should be about right."
Now, we just had to convince Jenny.
Jenny Gets a New Coat - Part I
Oh, the joys of living the Life Trendy in Small-Town, USA!
Julyn, Jenny, Corey and myself had just finished the delicious wedding luncheon of our dear friends Jamie and Dan, catered by the most expensive restaurant in town. Jamie was one of the most beautiful brides I've ever seen, and Dan was radiant with joy. It proved to be a lovely dinner: Jules and I, being naturally theatrical and a bit flamboyant, serenaded our table-partners with the old standards of Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra while Jenny and Corey sat at the end of the table, giggling together about our musical antics and commenting on the intricate, silvery beadwork on Jamie's bodice. And now, we had two hours to kill before the reception was to begin. What to do?
Jenny suggested we drive to the nearest Borders and peruse the shelves. "That sounds like a great idea! What's better than spending a pleasant, drowsy afternoon in a fabulous bookstore? Let's go," I agreed. So we left the restaurant and headed down the street. Five minutes later, we were parking our cars at the strip mall where our Borders was located, neighboring our town's only Old Navy clothing store.
Julyn, recently employed by Old Navy, advertised their latest special to our quartet, "We're having an exceptional sale on outerwear this week. Everything's 50% off." Then, whetting the impeccable taste for fashion Corey and I share, she smiled and teased, "Oh, and boys, our argyle is to die for! And, the scarves that came in the new shipment are great, too. Wanna go in for just a minute? I need to check my schedule, anyway."
No one objected, and we marched right in. After indulging the boys for more than a few minutes in the men's clothing section, the girls meandered over to the women's. Following them, my eye lit on this wonderful ode to American style and seamstering. I called Corey over.
"We have to find a way to get Jenny to try this on. It's perfect for her. Look at the cut, and the buttons! Oh! The the lining! -- that's a superb shade of fuschia! It'd pair beautifully with that black handbag up there. Where did those girls go? They're not at the clearance rack, are they?!"
"You're not kidding. It is beautiful," Corey agreed. "Jenny! Jules! Get over here, and bring a couple of pretty scarves with you. We've got a little something we want Jenny to try on."
I could tell Jenny wanted that coat as soon as she saw it. I sensed we had to find a way to convince her she had to get it as soon as she started slipping her arms through the sleeves. I knew we couldn't leave the store without that overcoat in a sack on Jenny's arm as soon as we had buttoned it up. It fit her perfectly. Corey, Jules and I were speechless for a moment (a feat in and of itself), and then Julyn started tying a green, sparkly scarf around Jenny's neck.
"That scarf doesn't match the dress I'm wearing," Jenny tried to protest.
"That doesn't matter at all," Jules asserted. "You can wear whatever color of scarf you want with this coat, and no one can tell what you're wearing under it. This camel color is perfect -- it'll match anything. Now, take your ponytail out and let your hair down."
"Jules is right," Corey said. "And it looks great when you fluff the scarf up like that."
"Here," I added, "try this bag. No, it's not too big. Yes, it's black. No, it doesn't have to match. It's just right. Trust me."
Once we had Jenny all spiffied up and accessoried, we took her to a mirror to see our handiwork. The moment she saw herself is one of the priceless memories I'll always keep tender. Jenny is not the kind of girl who wears make-up. She doesn't really agonize over what she's going to wear (she works as a teacher's aid in the schools, so how fancy does she need to be?). I don't think she really considers herself "pretty." I watched Jenny as she appraised the image in the mirror. The slump of her shoulders straightened up. The shuffle of her feet took on a more confident step. Her smile put the overhead flourescent light to shame, and you could see in her eyes that she knew she looked good.
Julyn, Jenny, Corey and myself had just finished the delicious wedding luncheon of our dear friends Jamie and Dan, catered by the most expensive restaurant in town. Jamie was one of the most beautiful brides I've ever seen, and Dan was radiant with joy. It proved to be a lovely dinner: Jules and I, being naturally theatrical and a bit flamboyant, serenaded our table-partners with the old standards of Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra while Jenny and Corey sat at the end of the table, giggling together about our musical antics and commenting on the intricate, silvery beadwork on Jamie's bodice. And now, we had two hours to kill before the reception was to begin. What to do?
Jenny suggested we drive to the nearest Borders and peruse the shelves. "That sounds like a great idea! What's better than spending a pleasant, drowsy afternoon in a fabulous bookstore? Let's go," I agreed. So we left the restaurant and headed down the street. Five minutes later, we were parking our cars at the strip mall where our Borders was located, neighboring our town's only Old Navy clothing store.
Julyn, recently employed by Old Navy, advertised their latest special to our quartet, "We're having an exceptional sale on outerwear this week. Everything's 50% off." Then, whetting the impeccable taste for fashion Corey and I share, she smiled and teased, "Oh, and boys, our argyle is to die for! And, the scarves that came in the new shipment are great, too. Wanna go in for just a minute? I need to check my schedule, anyway."
"We have to find a way to get Jenny to try this on. It's perfect for her. Look at the cut, and the buttons! Oh! The the lining! -- that's a superb shade of fuschia! It'd pair beautifully with that black handbag up there. Where did those girls go? They're not at the clearance rack, are they?!"
"You're not kidding. It is beautiful," Corey agreed. "Jenny! Jules! Get over here, and bring a couple of pretty scarves with you. We've got a little something we want Jenny to try on."
I could tell Jenny wanted that coat as soon as she saw it. I sensed we had to find a way to convince her she had to get it as soon as she started slipping her arms through the sleeves. I knew we couldn't leave the store without that overcoat in a sack on Jenny's arm as soon as we had buttoned it up. It fit her perfectly. Corey, Jules and I were speechless for a moment (a feat in and of itself), and then Julyn started tying a green, sparkly scarf around Jenny's neck.
"That scarf doesn't match the dress I'm wearing," Jenny tried to protest.
"That doesn't matter at all," Jules asserted. "You can wear whatever color of scarf you want with this coat, and no one can tell what you're wearing under it. This camel color is perfect -- it'll match anything. Now, take your ponytail out and let your hair down."
"Jules is right," Corey said. "And it looks great when you fluff the scarf up like that."
"Here," I added, "try this bag. No, it's not too big. Yes, it's black. No, it doesn't have to match. It's just right. Trust me."
Once we had Jenny all spiffied up and accessoried, we took her to a mirror to see our handiwork. The moment she saw herself is one of the priceless memories I'll always keep tender. Jenny is not the kind of girl who wears make-up. She doesn't really agonize over what she's going to wear (she works as a teacher's aid in the schools, so how fancy does she need to be?). I don't think she really considers herself "pretty." I watched Jenny as she appraised the image in the mirror. The slump of her shoulders straightened up. The shuffle of her feet took on a more confident step. Her smile put the overhead flourescent light to shame, and you could see in her eyes that she knew she looked good.
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