GRADUATION...

Chris over at "My Journey Out" posted this:

I think I can officially say I'm a proud graduate of Queer College. With all the sh*t happening around me, I'm actually quite happy about the things I've learned in the last 2 years. I was re-reading sections of the blog, both good and bad memories. All experiences, though, to be remembered.

I've learned that I'm a one-horse rider, not going to date a bunch of people and it's going to be serious quickly or it's not going to be; that I value intimacy over sex, hook-ups don't really rotate my gyros. Intimacy though takes time and you have to allow for it.

I want to feel the genuine love from my partner and in return I'll tolerate all kinds of drama. I want some innocence and a wide-eyed look in their eyes about the world around them. It doesn't matter how old or young they are, as long as they're young at heart.

I've also realized that making a mental list of the characteristics of the person I'm looking for it is pointless. It's how you feel with them is all that matters. Finally, if they're light brown, medium build and long black hair, well f*ck all the rules, they were just guidlelines anyways. :-)

I love it.

First of all, it always comes as a pleasant shock when someone's thoughts or experience line up with mine, since I spend so much of my time on the outside looking in [and yes, it has occurred to me that it probably isn't an accident that it keeps happening]. But more to the point, as I struggle to get the last boxes put away and the last of shelves up, I have been thinking that it is pretty @#$%-ing incredible that a mere two years plus after burying all my dreams of the rest of my life, a mere year and a half after falling head over heels in love with a guy I met at Leather Night far from home, I am here on his turf, being introduced as his "partner" and occasionally his "other half"--I don't think I've heard "better half" yet, but then I never worked my way up to that one in twenty-five years of marriage, either.

I've come out to family and friends, moved twice and made a new circle of friends once (this time I seem to be drifting in the Goat's wake), I've asked prospective landlords if they have a problem renting to a gay man, I've been to three leather bars, braved both San Francisco and P'town in leather, and all in all, I've rather enjoyed the experiences. I've made my peace with the fact that the Goat isn't a member of the Chinese [or Mexican, or Bolivian, or Ghanaian] gymnastics team; but then, I'm not exactly his "type," either... I've even made my peace with some pretty peculiar things I've learned about myself, as well as coming to terms with the things I always knew but was afraid to admit.

I guess my only hesitation in echoing Chris' claim of having "graduated" is that I do feel I am still feeling my way, if you don't mind the metaphor. Sometimes the Queer College curriculum can be quite the course-load...

Last night I read aloud to the Goat a New Yorker review [click here] of a new book on Emily Post, in which the following passage appeared:

At the ideal debutante ball, the young woman being presented meets and falls in love with the man she will eventually marry. As Emily liked to tell it, this is precisely what happened at hers. Supposedly, she caught sight of Edwin Post while she was waltzing by in the arms of another. He was trim and handsome, and, as it turns out, possessed a near-perfect pedigree.

As I remarked to the Goat, "it sounds just like Leather Night in a certain city..."

Hang in there, guys.
C