Tuesday, December 23, 2008

I could "Pass for Gay"

I am male. I have one X and one Y chromosome, and I have the physical characteristics generally associated with males. I do not ever have to worry about cramps, PMS and, later on, hot flashes. I was raised as a male—my father taught me to always open the door for women, stuff like that.

I’m attracted to women. But, many people think that I am gay. I admit, I have several of the “signs”: most of my friends are female, I’m fairly “sensitive” (for a “guy”), I’ve been seen in a dress at a public event…

Sarah even has you singing karaoke in a dress on video.
Bah. Pardon the interruption.

…and I spend more time than I’d like to admit on my hair. It doesn’t really bother me that they think I’m gay (which they see as more evidence), but being constantly reminded by my friends and family that “it would be okay if you are… you could tell me, you know that, right?” gets a little annoying. I’ve been called a “gaydar-jammer,” whatever that means.

This brings me to a recent event in the history of Brendan. Not long ago, a friend (I’ll call him “Bagel”) sent me a message on Facebook:

“There's a rather important question I must ask you. It's very important that you not get offended, as I find that many people do when asked this question. I ask that you understand my predicament in even having to ask the shit (it's really not something you can "pop up" in a conversation.)

Well, I suppose I should just come out and say it, as it's a matter I'm a bit interested in...

Erm. You're not gay, are you?

I only ask as you seem like a person I would buy dinner for, and maybe take to a movie. However, the manner in which I buy dinner/movies is somewhat defined by the answer to that question. It's a very difficult thing to ask and (I'm sure) a crappy query to be on the receiving end of.

I know your profile says you aren't, but a little voice in my head has wondered.

Perhaps I've overstepped my bounds as a random classmate here, and I apologize. I hope this doesn't affect our after-class walks to the parking lot. Be honest, if it does. I don't wish to offend. Either way, you're a groovy dude, and one I'd still like to converse with.”


Upon reading this message, I thought to myself, maybe I am gay. Everybody seemed to think so, perhaps I was in denial. At the very least I was flattered by his message. I wouldn’t say I find men attractive, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t had the occasional “man crush.” What I used to describe what I had felt with Bagel was that I found him “intellectually stimulating,” though I still am not sure what I meant by that.

After assuring my friend that I was not at all offended by his message, I agreed to go to a late dinner with him after class. I talked to him quite a bit about how I was feeling, and how I had been questioning my sexuality a little bit lately. I asked Bagel not to get his hopes up, but told him I was in some way interested in him and said I would like to keep talking with him. I still wasn’t sure whether I was attracted to him, but I was at least giving myself the chance to be open to it. He assures me that I could at least “pass for gay,” just because of my personality and how I present myself. In the end, after a lot of thinking I decided that I am straight, but I still wanted to keep talking to him about it.

Maybe I’m a little bit bisexual? I don’t know. I still haven’t figured it out. I know I am significantly more attracted to women than I am to men, but the occasional guy comes along and catches me off guard. In talking to him about it, I was able to assure myself that I’m not simply in denial, so I didn’t really think I was applying to the first stage of coming out, “admitting to oneself that one has a homosexual or bisexual orientation” (King, 2005). And I do not think it’s a fear of coming out at all; I don’t have any close family or friends who would be upset, and most people know of the date I went on with a guy—I certainly don’t hide the fact that I had done some questioning, but I’m “mostly straight.”




This is an excerpt from a paper I wrote for my psychology of human sexuality class. Take it how you want it. I changed the dude's name to "Bagel" for obvious reasons.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Run Away!

Two shorties; one theme; one post.

SuperBrendan!

If, given the title, you believe Brendan is being compared to a super hero—you are wrong. “SuperBrendan” is, in fact, associating him with a characteristic of a superball: bouncy.

“We were playing hide-and-seek one day when suddenly I tripped and fell,” said Brendan “I was running from Emily, trying to get to base, and I just fell. Then, I don’t even know what exactly happened… I just... bounced, and I was back on my feet and running again!”

“Bounced!?” Dana chimed in. She couldn’t stop laughing at the image of chubby little Brendan bouncing up and down on the floor, like a bouncy ball.

That’s it? That’s the whole story?
I told you it was short… so I’ll throw in a second short one.

Face, Meet Door.

What’s not to like about pre-Christmas festivities? Candy, no school, and… ginger bread houses! For an elementary school aged Brendan, this was incredible.

Lindsay, A woman at our church invited several of us to her home to make gingerbread houses. This was, of course, a mistake. She got stuck with a house full of hyperactive kids, plus sugar.

Foolish woman…

Yeah, I know. She should have known better.
So, back to the story.

There were possibly five or so of the little tykes, if memory serves correctly. All running around; all chasing one-another. There was no particular reason for the running, aside from candy and hyperactivity.

At some point, Emily decided it would be a good idea to chase Brendan around the house.

Hm… Emily chasing Brendan? No way!

Now this was a frightening experience for Brendan. Emily has cooties! He couldn’t let her catch him! So, he ran, and he ran. He looked over his shoulder to see how close she was, and he ran. And then he stopped. BAM! He slammed into a glass door.

Ever seen one of those cartoons where something runs into a wall, gets flattened and just slides down like putty? That was Brendan. Splatted on a glass door, sliding down onto the floor.

Fool, should have watched where he was going!

Hey, he was a kid and there was a girl chasing him!

When will boys learn not to run from girls?

This was when Lindsay decided it would be a good idea to get these kids out of her house. “Let’s go to the park!” She said.

After checking to see if Brendan was okay, right?

Nah, it was too funny for him to have actually been hurt!

Okay. Good point. Seriously, hilarious.

Okay, now that we’re done professing our lack of caring of the wellbeing of Brendan, let’s continue with the story!

There was a park close to Lindsay’s house. It was your basic, small park. Swings, monkey bars, and, of course, a spinning mary-go-round… Genius! Especially after all that candy.

So, gummy bears and Skittles, plus spinning, ain’t pretty. Well, maybe pretty… but it isn’t as fun. The plethora of color spewing from Richie was quite pretty though.

Eww! That’s so gross!

The end.