Part Two

O.K., so if you didn't read yesterday's guest post from Oliver*, go read it now.

Here's part two.

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Part the Second: A Queer, a Lesbian and their Bishop Walk into a Temple



To say I was shocked to learn that Patty is a lesbian is an understatement. Of all people, I should have been able to pick up on this. I mean, she didn't even drive a Subaru or listen to The Indigo Girls.

And then I told her that I, too, was gay.

It's hard to put what that moment felt like into words. There was joy. There were tears. There was a great feeling of relief on both our parts that we didn't have to try to find each other sexually attractive.

And then we started the process of figuring out what to do next.

We knew a few things for sure: We loved each other deeply. We wanted to live our lives together rather than apart. We wanted to follow what we believe to be God's church. We wanted to be parents and have an eternal family.

So we decided that we should get married.

I know, some of you just got really upset. I even know what you're thinking. "They won't be able to find true happiness because they're hiding their authentic selves." Or, "They should be free to find the same kind of love that heterosexuals have--love that includes sex." And I'm sure there were even a few of you who are wholly disgusted by the idea of two homosexuals doing anything like being happy, and I don't really want to entertain what your thoughts might have been. Those people should stop reading right now and go watch Bristol Palin dance, because you're not going to like the rest of this story.

Is it possible that I would be happier in a relationship with a man? Maybe. I don't know. But I'm happy now, so why does it matter?

Sex is not the be all and end all of life. Do you know how many sexless heterosexual marriages there are out there? A fricking lot.

Yes, Patty and I made the conscious decision to live a life that doesn't include sex. I know that's really hard for most people to understand, I really do. The thing is, while I'm sexually attracted to men, I've never been emotionally attracted to them. I've never desired to be in a relationship with them. And as attractive as I find men to be, I find the idea of buttsex completely ooky. It's your pooper, people. I won't share a drink with another person because there might be saliva in it. So, poopers are off the negotiating table. And don't get me started on oral sex. Yeah, that's not going in my mouth. I'm a urologist. I know where that's been.

(And right about now some of you are asking yourselves, "Well what about Patty?" Patty's story is Patty's to tell if she wants to. But I can tell you that this decision was a greater sacrifice for her.)

O.K., so back to the story.

Patty and I wanted to do this the right way. We didn't want to lie to our church. We didn't want to do something that was wrong. So, we talked to our Bishop. (For all you No-Mos, a Bishop is the clergyman for a congregation. Like a pastor.)

You want to see comedy gold? Tell your Mormon bishop that you're gay, and your fiance is a lesbian, and you want to marry each other in the temple and live a chaste life.

Of course he didn't know how to handle that. Higher ups were called in. Things were discussed. Letters were written. And in the end, they couldn't find a doctrinal reason that what we wanted was wrong. Permission was granted. To be honest, I'm shocked that Boyd K. Packer didn't drop dead from a heart attack on the spot.

{Tangent: I know some of you reading this will not be able to comprehend how two homosexuals could also so devoutly believe in the Mormon church. We just do. Sorry. That said, we do not support prop 8. Gays should be allowed to marry secularly, or in religions that do not see homosexual behavior as a sin. Also, I know the man is an apostle, but Boyd K. Packer is a jackwagon that makes me (and hermaphrodite kittens, apparently) cry. I'm glad the powers that be changed his talk, but sad that he said what he did (in conference, and in numerous talks previously) in the first place. On a somewhat related note, if I did ever leave the Mormon church, I would call myself a Homo FoMo, short for Homosexual Former Mormon. Feel free to use it. Also, my apologies to all the non mormons reading this who are all, "Who the hell is Boyd K. Packer and what is he doing with hermaphrodite kittens?" End tangent.}

So, we got married in the Washington D.C. temple. And a couple of years later we adopted our first child. A year after that, our second.

And we are happy.

We don't openly share that we are homosexuals, but neither do we actively hide it. We're realistic. We know it would be hard on our children. They both have special needs, and they don't need something else people can be cruel to them over. They will know when they are older. And they will know what love is, and though it takes many forms, it is ultimately a reflection of what God feels for us. No matter who makes our netherbelows tingle.


*Names have been changed to protect our identities. I chose Oliver because I had a childhood crush on the misfit cousin Oliver who made The Brady Bunch jump the shark. Patty chose Patty because the TV character she identified most with as a child was Peppermint Patty on The Peanuts.

Also, I want to give Brandi a big, wet, sloppy gay kiss for helping me turn my thoughts into something mildly entertaining. She can be my fag hag any day.

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