Matt's Story

Matt is the little brother of one of my best high school friends and I'm so happy he offered to share his story! Matt is so kind, genuine, and a wonderful human. I'm happy to share him with all of you! Enjoy :)

I was always the quiet kid - the other boys my age seemed so rowdy to me. I made easy friends with adults, who said things like "Wow, Matt, it's like you were born a grown up!" I loved the attention I got from adults for being mature and well-behaved. As I grew older, I had a hard time understanding why my male peers were so interested in girls, so I made friends with my primary teachers, my schoolteachers, my scout leaders, my seminary instructors, and my friends' parents. In high school, I was more interested in spending an evening attending a board meeting with several "band moms" than I was in hanging out with anyone my own age.

When I was sixteen, I started dating a girl who I had been crushing on for a while. I had never imagined myself as someone who would date seriously in high school, but we ended up dating for about six months. In typical teenage form, I had no idea how to be in a relationship or what it meant to be dating. I even felt a sense of imposter syndrome, like dating was something that "other people" did - not me. Like most high school relationships, ours eventually ended. Although I had sensed it before, it wasn't until after dating her that I was pretty sure I was attracted to men - but I was still in deep denial of it. I figured that my future relationships would be better, and that I would eventually "grow into" being interested in women - I had to! God's Plan for me certainly hinged on whether I married a woman in the temple and created an eternal family. I patiently waited for the time when I would finally "fit the mold" - and I didn't date in high school after that.

After graduating high school, I attended BYU, where I dated another girl who was a close friend of mine. As we began dating, it became clear to me that she was developing feelings much faster than I was. I felt bad, because I had been the one to initially show interest, but now that she had feelings for me, I couldn't meet her where she was. At the end of the semester, after dating for only a month, we broke things off, and I specifically asked her not to wait for me while I served a mission. She seemed to have fallen for me, but I just didn't feel the same way. I was happy to hear from her a year into my mission when she sent me her wedding invitation. Apparently, I hadn't grown into liking women yet, but I still hadn't served a mission, so dating wasn't crucial to my salvation yet. I resolved to continue being patient, serve a mission, and worry about it when I got back.

On my mission, I was relieved to be able to set aside all thoughts of romance and dating - straight or gay. I simply didn't think about it. It turned out to be very easy for me to just focus on the work (and it perplexed me when other Elders would get so hung up on "mission crushes" or the girls they had waiting for them back home). Several months in, after a few difficult companions, I was transferred to a new area with a relatively new missionary. He and I taught more people in that area than I did at any other time in my mission. We overcame differences, learned to teach well together, and earned the love of the wards we served in very quickly. I loved teaching with him, and together we overcame personal obstacles and grew closer to God. As we approached the end of our first transfer together, I knew I wanted him to be my companion for another transfer - I even emailed the mission president and told him so. The day before transfer notices came out, my companion sat me down and told me something I wasn't prepared to hear: "Elder, I feel like you're constantly flirting with me." The words stung, and my heart immediately sank. Was it true? Had I really been flirting with my companion? I definitely hadn't been trying to. I had spent the first year of my mission completely ignoring - and even suppressing - my sexuality. If my companion could perceive that I was gay even when I was fervently trying to hide it, how could I ever successfully hide it from anyone else?

This was really the first time I had to deal with my sexuality. I realized that my biggest goals in life were to (1) hide my sexual orientation from everyone in my life for the rest of my life and (2) get married in the temple to a woman and never tell her I'm gay. After my companion's accusation, I began to realize that hinging my entire life plan on those two goals wasn't feasible. About ten months later, toward the end of my mission, I told my mission president I was "more attracted to men than to women." This was the first time I had ever come out to anyone. He reacted very lovingly and told me about one of his family members who is same-sex attracted, who married in the temple and lived a typical "straight" life in the Church. This was encouraging for me to hear - it meant that there was still a chance for me to be able to hide my sexuality forever and live a "normal," unassuming life. But my mission president also impressed on me the importance of coming out to any future potential spouse - of being honest and communicative about my sexuality. I bit my lip and slowly nodded my head at this, but honestly, the thought of telling anyone I'm gay was absolutely terrifying. I dug my heels in deeper and resolved never to tell anyone else - to let that secret follow me to the grave.

After my mission, I returned to BYU and, like any returned missionary, started dating. I went on one-off dates with several girls, and even went on strings of dates with a few who I liked. One girl, who I had been on five or six dates with, asked me to kiss her on the last day of the semester, before we'd both return home for Christmas break. I really liked her, but I had absolutely no desire to kiss her. In a painfully awkward exchange, I told her I didn't think it was a good idea - and we didn't kiss. At that point, I decided to stop dating for a while.

It was high time I came out to my parents. I had been debating it for the nearly two years since I had come home from my mission, and I could tell that keeping my sexuality from them was negatively affecting our relationship. Even though I wasn't dating or pursuing men, not being out to my parents meant being dishonest with them, hiding from them, and not sharing with them perhaps the most difficult life trial I had ever experienced: reconciling my faith and sexuality. When they would call and ask for updates about my life, I would give vague, non-specific answers in hopes that they wouldn't discover my secret. The hiding and secrecy and shame had to stop. I was away from home at the time, so I called my mom on the phone to tell her. Her immediate response was: "Well, I'm not that surprised - you've never shown that much interest in girls." I couldn't tell if I was offended or surprised by her statement, but I couldn't help but chuckle - she was right! A few minutes in, I could tell she was crying. I knew this must be hard for her to hear. She expressed her love for me and told me that she just wanted me to be happy. It was a somewhat uncomfortable exchange for me, and I knew she didn't fully understand how I felt. How could she? I had spent years learning what it meant to be gay - asking questions, doing research, praying, introspecting - and she had just found out. Over time, I would have to learn to be patient with her as she learned what I knew and how I felt. I didn't want to be the one to tell my dad I was gay, so I happily let my mom tell him. The next day, he gave me a call and he told me the same things my mom had told me: that he loved me, and he just wanted me to be happy.

I spent the next semester away from campus, at an internship program at Disney World. Disney World was full of gays, and none of them were afraid to show it (a wildly new experience for me). I was hit on by a lot of attractive men, which felt fun and flattering and exciting! But I still felt deeply connected to God, the Church, and its teachings in a way that motivated me not to date men. I wanted to keep my covenants and live the commandments as best I could, and choosing not to date men was an integral part of that. And honestly, choosing not to date men was pretty easy - that is, until I met someone I really liked. There was a guy in my department who I thought was incredibly cute and funny and sweet. I got butterflies every time I talked with him, and flirting with him came naturally and easily. I knew I had a crush on him, and I debated for months whether to ask him out. I experienced a massive amount of inner turmoil as I swung back and forth between loyalty to God and the prospect of experiencing a real romantic connection with someone I was genuinely attracted to. On what was literally my last day in Florida, I built up the courage to ask him to "hang out" with me (I could not bring myself to use the word "date"). We went to the Magic Kingdom, and he let me choose every ride we went on and bought me whatever snacks I wanted. At the end of the night, we went to the castle and watched the fireworks together, where I held his hand and put my arm around him. It was my dream Disney date come true! I felt nervous and excited in all the ways I knew a first date should feel. And when he later told me he wasn't interested in me, I felt an appropriate amount of heartache. It was relieving and thrilling to normalize same-sex dating, even just a little bit.

After leaving Disney World, I spent a lot of time thinking about my first gay date, my dating experiences at BYU, and what my future might look like. Although I had really enjoyed my first date with a man, I wasn't sure I felt comfortable with the idea of dating men in general. Certainly, I didn't want to date men while I was still at BYU. (I often viewed the Honor Code as somewhat of a blessing for me - I didn't have to stress over the decision of whether to date men, because while I was at BYU, I couldn't date men.) I continued to avoid dating, and instead focused on school and work and living a happy and fulfilling "single" life.

What helped me most in my pursuit of a happy and fulfilling life was coming out to more people. For years, I lived in constant fear that my friends and family would figure out my secret. (I fit plenty of the gay stereotypes: I like musical theater and Disneyland and baking and singing - oh, and I'm a Mormon who doesn't date.) In an effort to hide my gayness from others, I had intentionally become less active on social media, distanced myself from others, and hidden my interests from new people I met. For a time, my goal in my relationships was to remind people of me as little as possible in hopes that they would think about me less often, and therefore never reach the conclusion that I'm gay. And I got very lonely, very fast. When I finally dropped that awful, self-destructive strategy and let go of my crippling fear and shame, I found so much richness in my life that I didn't know I was missing. Being "out" (or at least being unafraid of being "found out") gave me the confidence to pursue my interests unapologetically. Coming out to my family helped reassure me that I have unconditional love and support regardless of my life path. Coming out to close friends meant I had people in my life with whom I could share my honest experiences - crushes, heartache, excitement, confusion, and everything in between - and that I didn't have to live in solitude and silence. Coming out to roommates led to less fear and less loneliness, knowing that I was accepted by those I lived with. Coming out to high school friends, mission friends, and others from my past helped me feel more congruence and less compartmentalization in my life. During my final two semesters at BYU, I found strength in resources like blogs (thanks, Kelly!), podcasts, and books published by other queer Latter-day Saints. I began to build community with other gay Mormons at BYU, which was absolutely life-changing for me.

So where am I now? What choices am I making? Am I staying in the Church or leaving? Am I dating or not? For me, this is the hardest thing about being Mormon and gay: each of these options requires me to sacrifice an important part of myself. With the way the Church is currently structured, there is no future for me that involves both a fulfilling marriage and full fellowship in the Church where I have rooted my love for and faith in the Savior. Many people I've talked to are convinced that the Church will eventually change its policies and doctrines to include same-sex marriage. I'm not so certain. Even if things do change, the way I see it, if I wait to date until the Church says it's okay to date, I'm probably going to be disappointed. I'd rather either choose to date or not to date based on my own volition.

When considering my options, it is helpful for me to picture my offering to God. Whatever life choices I make, I know that my ultimate offering to Him will be broken and imperfect and incomplete. And yet, I trust that as I work to stay close to Him, my broken offering will be accepted. Surely there is so much good that I could find on a variety of life paths, so my approach to decision making is less about worrying which is the "perfect" choice, or the choice I feel I "should" make. Instead, I make day-to-day decisions based on what I value most, and I involve God in that process. Right now, I don't plan on getting married - and I also don't plan on staying single forever. I move forward with optimism and hope in the promise given through the Apostle Paul: "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God has prepared for them that love him" (1 Cor. 2:9). In many ways, I don't know what my future will look like (does anybody?), but I do know that God loves me and has blessings prepared for me. That doesn't take away all of the frustration and dissonance I experience, but it has helped me recognize that my sexual orientation is a gift. Being gay has given me incredible blessings like increased empathy, patience, understanding, love, honesty, humility, and closeness with God. Over time, these blessings have taught me that my sexual orientation is not a mistake or misinterpretation; it is, in and of itself, an intentional gift and blessing from God.