Deb's Story
I met Deb through the gay, Utah Mormon channels and have always been impressed with her kindness and openness. She is fun, full of faith, and a great human! Her story does not disappoint. Navigating dating someone of the same sex within the church is difficult and oftentimes heartbreaking. Deb encomposses it beautifully. I'm grateful to share a piece of her story here with all of you.
“Since you’ll be graduated from BYU, do you think you’ll date women?”—a question I got from a few friends which I didn’t know how to answer. I was moving to Minnesota for work which meant the opportunity to date women was becoming real. The BYU honor code wouldn’t be hovering as my shoulder angel any longer. In past experience, instead of leaning into an offered (female) kiss, I leaned hesitantly into the safety of the honor code—ultimately closing off a potential relationship with a stunning woman while simultaneously opening up the inner conflict of my desire to date someone I actually liked. I was torn about dating women back then, and I continued to be torn for years.
What I was no longer torn about was letting go of forcing myself to date men. Nine years into dating men I did something drastic: I allowed myself to say “no”. Although my list of rejected dates could be easily counted on one hand...or one finger, the mindshift was truly liberating.
I figured, in moving to Minnesota, I wouldn’t have to address my desire to date women due to a probable lack of desirable candidates. It seemed infinitely more unlikely I’d be finding an active-LDS, gay women of the millennial generation with mutual attraction and interest.
Turns out, miracles happen.
Just weeks before moving and to my surprise, I received a distinct impression to open up to the idea of getting married. I had already sacrificed that possibility and let that dream in me wither away. Although skeptical of the prompting, I tried to be faithful. I basically had the attitude of: “okay then, surprise me.”
Revitalizing the idea of marriage was a sacrifice. A sacrifice of being single. A sacrifice of doing whatever I saw as best whenever it made sense to me. A sacrifice of strictly focusing on my personal development and goals. A sacrifice of major life choices being made 100% by yours truly. A sacrifice of being the cool single aunt who is probably a fresh and fun young women’s leader or a rockin’ summer camp counselor. A sacrifice of…my church membership?
It depends: Is it a man I’d be hypothetically “opening my mind to marriage” for, or a woman?
In the church, I am left unsure about what would happen if I were to date a woman, marry a woman, or even just hold hands in public. But one thing in the teachings is clear, a heterosexual marriage is essential for admittance into the top tier of heaven.
There are two big issues for me when it comes to that requirement:
I’m gay.
I truly may always and forever be gay: I don’t know. No one really knows. Here’s the thing, I committed to my young teenage self at a basketball-court-floor and folding-plastic-curtain-wall wedding reception that I would only marry someone I was truly in love with—contrary to what I observed in the appearance of the...content newlywed couple. A commitment that seemed obvious in the moment has since transformed into wisdom to which I hold dear. I’m familiar with love. I had fallen in love before, many times before. But all of those previous times I was in love at somebody, not in love with somebody.
I feel pretty normal when it comes to my childhood story of being unknowingly gay. I “admired” girls, but really, I had crushes on them. On my mission, I ran out of rationalizations (other than being gay) for my infatuation with my companion. I returned early from my mission due to actions of affection with my companion. That experience deterred me from future actions in fear of uncovering the feelings of disappointment I had worked to overcome being an early return missionary. Being gay at BYU was a lonely challenge that became easier as I came out more and continued to have support from friends while simultaneously finding more connections in the LGBT/LDS realm.
Considering my early arrival from my mission, I hadn’t ever considered not feeling internal shame and guilt about kissing a girl until my gay friend explained to me, from his experience, the guilt was likely connected to violating romantic restrictions as a missionary rather than the act of gay kissing. He also disclosed to me some revolutionary revelation: I could date someone who I found attractive—that they would likely be attracted to me.
This was seriously news to me. I could date someone I actually liked!? I’m attractive?!?
I had spent all of my dating and pre-dating years having crushes on people who I knew would never crush back. All my hopes were...hopeless. It was near unfathomable that I could find someone who I liked and who would like me back.
Even though I had truly accepted the fate of being single long-term, I still desired to have mortal experiences—something so sweet and human as loving someone who loves me back. Grieving has occurred recognizing this life joy would likely not ever happen to me.
Although that thinking may seem overly dramatic, look at the records: nada.
That is, until Minnesota.
As irony goes, it was in Minnesota that I was pleasantly surprised with my “needle in a haystack”...who was living in Utah. The relationship was nothing less than magical, and although I can’t claim perfection, I felt like she was perfect for me. I was in love with her. I begged God in tears that he wouldn’t ever ask me to let her go. I wanted her with me always and forever. The long-distance was minimalized monthly thanks to remote work/classes during the thick of COVID days. My dreams of a relationship were coming true, and marriage was something I became definitely open to.
Until she broke up with me.
One week before, I was at her parents’ house being introduced to her family and relatives. The next week, I was sobbing and crying out with the pain of loneliness and a demolished heart.
This breakup was a major life decision that I felt I had 0% input on.
I abruptly found myself single; pushed back within the boundaries clearly acceptable to the church. Currently I question: am I “worthy” now just because I was broken up with? Does being single by default, and not by choice, make me holier? It was an unwilling sacrifice. Is this opposite of an Abrahamic sacrifice? One where I was not willing to give her up and lost her anyway?
Was I supposed to open up to the idea of marriage so that I could have it destroyed right in front of my eyes?
New questions have arisen. Questions that I have to ask myself what I really believe—what I am willing to sacrifice.
Was this supposed to end? Was I supposed to fall in love to have my heart committed and then be left single in order for the choice to stay in the church to be clearer “knowing” that I could never find yet another needle in the haystack?
I don’t believe in a twisted or manipulative god, rather, I believe in a god who honors agency and also has power to make things happen that really need to happen. Nothing is too big or too small of an issue to be resolved. I have grown in understanding of the character of God through my interactions with deity. I still lack the revelation of how things will work out, but I know it’s going to be okay, and if I do what I truly believe God is telling me to do, even if somewhere I misunderstand, I don’t believe God will eternally limit my potential for happiness. God is not going to be handing out gay consolation prizes. I can’t fathom how this will all get ironed out, but I do know that God is amazing at smoothing out difficult situations—I believe in miracles.
“Since you’ll be graduated from BYU, do you think you’ll date women?”—a question I got from a few friends which I didn’t know how to answer. I was moving to Minnesota for work which meant the opportunity to date women was becoming real. The BYU honor code wouldn’t be hovering as my shoulder angel any longer. In past experience, instead of leaning into an offered (female) kiss, I leaned hesitantly into the safety of the honor code—ultimately closing off a potential relationship with a stunning woman while simultaneously opening up the inner conflict of my desire to date someone I actually liked. I was torn about dating women back then, and I continued to be torn for years.
What I was no longer torn about was letting go of forcing myself to date men. Nine years into dating men I did something drastic: I allowed myself to say “no”. Although my list of rejected dates could be easily counted on one hand...or one finger, the mindshift was truly liberating.
I figured, in moving to Minnesota, I wouldn’t have to address my desire to date women due to a probable lack of desirable candidates. It seemed infinitely more unlikely I’d be finding an active-LDS, gay women of the millennial generation with mutual attraction and interest.
Turns out, miracles happen.
Just weeks before moving and to my surprise, I received a distinct impression to open up to the idea of getting married. I had already sacrificed that possibility and let that dream in me wither away. Although skeptical of the prompting, I tried to be faithful. I basically had the attitude of: “okay then, surprise me.”
Revitalizing the idea of marriage was a sacrifice. A sacrifice of being single. A sacrifice of doing whatever I saw as best whenever it made sense to me. A sacrifice of strictly focusing on my personal development and goals. A sacrifice of major life choices being made 100% by yours truly. A sacrifice of being the cool single aunt who is probably a fresh and fun young women’s leader or a rockin’ summer camp counselor. A sacrifice of…my church membership?
It depends: Is it a man I’d be hypothetically “opening my mind to marriage” for, or a woman?
In the church, I am left unsure about what would happen if I were to date a woman, marry a woman, or even just hold hands in public. But one thing in the teachings is clear, a heterosexual marriage is essential for admittance into the top tier of heaven.
There are two big issues for me when it comes to that requirement:
I’m gay.
I truly may always and forever be gay: I don’t know. No one really knows. Here’s the thing, I committed to my young teenage self at a basketball-court-floor and folding-plastic-curtain-wall wedding reception that I would only marry someone I was truly in love with—contrary to what I observed in the appearance of the...content newlywed couple. A commitment that seemed obvious in the moment has since transformed into wisdom to which I hold dear. I’m familiar with love. I had fallen in love before, many times before. But all of those previous times I was in love at somebody, not in love with somebody.
I feel pretty normal when it comes to my childhood story of being unknowingly gay. I “admired” girls, but really, I had crushes on them. On my mission, I ran out of rationalizations (other than being gay) for my infatuation with my companion. I returned early from my mission due to actions of affection with my companion. That experience deterred me from future actions in fear of uncovering the feelings of disappointment I had worked to overcome being an early return missionary. Being gay at BYU was a lonely challenge that became easier as I came out more and continued to have support from friends while simultaneously finding more connections in the LGBT/LDS realm.
Considering my early arrival from my mission, I hadn’t ever considered not feeling internal shame and guilt about kissing a girl until my gay friend explained to me, from his experience, the guilt was likely connected to violating romantic restrictions as a missionary rather than the act of gay kissing. He also disclosed to me some revolutionary revelation: I could date someone who I found attractive—that they would likely be attracted to me.
This was seriously news to me. I could date someone I actually liked!? I’m attractive?!?
I had spent all of my dating and pre-dating years having crushes on people who I knew would never crush back. All my hopes were...hopeless. It was near unfathomable that I could find someone who I liked and who would like me back.
Even though I had truly accepted the fate of being single long-term, I still desired to have mortal experiences—something so sweet and human as loving someone who loves me back. Grieving has occurred recognizing this life joy would likely not ever happen to me.
Although that thinking may seem overly dramatic, look at the records: nada.
That is, until Minnesota.
As irony goes, it was in Minnesota that I was pleasantly surprised with my “needle in a haystack”...who was living in Utah. The relationship was nothing less than magical, and although I can’t claim perfection, I felt like she was perfect for me. I was in love with her. I begged God in tears that he wouldn’t ever ask me to let her go. I wanted her with me always and forever. The long-distance was minimalized monthly thanks to remote work/classes during the thick of COVID days. My dreams of a relationship were coming true, and marriage was something I became definitely open to.
Until she broke up with me.
One week before, I was at her parents’ house being introduced to her family and relatives. The next week, I was sobbing and crying out with the pain of loneliness and a demolished heart.
This breakup was a major life decision that I felt I had 0% input on.
I abruptly found myself single; pushed back within the boundaries clearly acceptable to the church. Currently I question: am I “worthy” now just because I was broken up with? Does being single by default, and not by choice, make me holier? It was an unwilling sacrifice. Is this opposite of an Abrahamic sacrifice? One where I was not willing to give her up and lost her anyway?
Was I supposed to open up to the idea of marriage so that I could have it destroyed right in front of my eyes?
New questions have arisen. Questions that I have to ask myself what I really believe—what I am willing to sacrifice.
Was this supposed to end? Was I supposed to fall in love to have my heart committed and then be left single in order for the choice to stay in the church to be clearer “knowing” that I could never find yet another needle in the haystack?
I don’t believe in a twisted or manipulative god, rather, I believe in a god who honors agency and also has power to make things happen that really need to happen. Nothing is too big or too small of an issue to be resolved. I have grown in understanding of the character of God through my interactions with deity. I still lack the revelation of how things will work out, but I know it’s going to be okay, and if I do what I truly believe God is telling me to do, even if somewhere I misunderstand, I don’t believe God will eternally limit my potential for happiness. God is not going to be handing out gay consolation prizes. I can’t fathom how this will all get ironed out, but I do know that God is amazing at smoothing out difficult situations—I believe in miracles.
Comments
Post a Comment