Sheesh. I'm Famous.

I mentioned back in February about a reporter from the Wall Street Journal reading my blog and wanting to interview me for an article. She did interview me, that same day, and one day last week, or maybe two weeks ago, she sent me an online link to the article.

Well, here's the bit about me from the article:

Some people have come across dirt on their loved ones without even looking for it. John Smith, a 42-year-old librarian in Bensenville, Ill., recently turned to ZabaSearch to find his new boyfriend's address so that he could send him a card. Instead, he found out that the boyfriend had been lying about his age -- he was 43, not 35 as he had claimed to be on the dating site where Smith had met him. "I thought, 'You're a liar! You're older than I am!,' " Smith recalls. The relationship ended soon thereafter.

I've changed my name here to John Smith. The following will explain why.

My mom called me today and said, "If you're going to do something, please tell me before I hear about it from all over the country!" I had no idea what she was talking about. Apparently, my uncle in Phoenix (her brother) called her today after seeing the article-- and my name -- in a newspaper out there. This Wall Street Journal article has apparently been syndicated to lots of other papers. Feeling curious, my techno-savvy mom then Googled my name.

"Have you ever Googled yourself?" she asked.

"Not in a long time, no."

"Well you should. There's page after page! Most of it is references to this article... from Sioux Falls, to the Cayman Islands, to Kansas City! There's something about you in an AIDS walk. You're quoted about being gay somewhere else, too. What would the people at work say?"

"Ummm... they wouldn't care."

"They know?"

Apparently, she doesn't realize that I'm pretty much out to everyone. The most upsetting part to her, I think, is that every Google result mentioning this article shows my name, my age, where I work, what I do for a living, and my sexual orientation. This puts it out there in black-and-white, and in some way, outs her as well. Guilt by association.

To her, I say, "Meh." I mean, now she must have images of the kind of things I do with other men in her mind. She's imagining all sorts of things....

And most of them are probably dead-on.

So I called myself John Smith above because if she Googled me again, it would link to this blog. And this is one place I don't need my mom pokin' her nose.

What price fame?

Coming Out Again.

My mom is amazing. I really treasure her. She's smart, funny as hell, and very loving. She's also a born-again Christian. I had a born-again experience in high school, around the same time I was coming to terms with my gayness... it was pretty sad to realize I was gay and going to hell for it at the same time. Over the years, I have come to loathe most organized religion, simply because any organized religion is based upon the belief system of a group of men (or one single man), thus rendering it fallible. Why else would there be so many religions around the world, right? And who's to say who is true and right and who is false and evil? I have come to an understanding that I did not choose to be gay, and that if God exists, he wouldn't banish me to hell for something that is as much a part of me as the color of my skin.

Since I broke up with my husband, my mom has said, "I hope now that you're alone this doesn't mean you're going to start dating people." After all, the word "bachelor" is so much easier for her to say than "gay" when pointing to a photo of her kids. I respect her choices, and she loves me despite my sexual orientation, although she still worries about my soul.

However, I didn't want to lie when she asked me how I plan to spend Christmas Eve and/or morning. So, I decided, at my sister's suggestion, that I should tell my mom about Michael. A good idea, I think. I approached it by saying, "I have something to tell you that I consider good news, and I hope you will, too." She figured it out before I even continued. "I've met someone very special, and we're seeing each other a lot, and we're having a wonderful time getting to know each other."

She sounded as supportive as she could, although over the phone I could hear her neck hair standing up. She asked lots of questions: "How old is he?" "Where does he live?" "What does he do?" The best was when she asked how we met and I told her, "We met through a new site called chemistry.com." "What, did you meet in a test tube?" That's funny. We both laughed at that one. I didn't go into the fact that he's the one for life, or that it was love at first sight, or any of the heavy-duty stuff. The important thing is that she knows Michael exists, and that he and I are taking it very slowly. She reminded me to be careful, as she doesn't want to see me get hurt. That was sweet.

In all, a good choice to tell her. Now, if and when she asks how it is going, I can respond with, "It's going great. We're taking it slowly and really enjoying getting to know each other." It's just what she wants to hear, and it's the truth. What more could a mother ask?

Breathe... relax... take it slow... let it happen...

This Is Kind of Sad

I was on the phone with my mom yesterday... I try to talk to her about once a week or so. Now, the thing about my mom is that she and I both were "born again" back in the early 80's; we belonged to a very fundamentalist church. As I was coming to terms with my sexual orientation, I was also learning the Bible and all about sin and redemption and heaven and hell. Imagine the paradox of trying to accept my gayness while simultaneously discovering that the very same gayness would secure my hell-bound fate. It made for a very traumatic adolescence.

Over time, I learned that homosexuality is not a choice, but fundamentalist Christianity is. When I embraced my gayness as a part of my being, it meant I had to re-think my concept of God and religion. This has all taken many years, but I've reached a point where I'm comfortable believing in a higher power while knowing that if that higher power loves us, I am included-- gay or not.

Mom chose to embrace the Christianity, right-wing, Republican way of life. This means that, in her eyes, I am going to hell. She was telling me yesterday about last Sunday's sermon by their pastor, who referenced the story of the prodigal son. "You're like the prodigal son," she said, "Well, maybe not. You haven't made your change yet. Maybe someday." As if to say, "You haven't denounced your homosexuality, so you're not worthy."

She feels a sense of disappointment in me because I don't subscribe to her beliefs, rather than feeling joy for me that I am at peace with who I am. She is only proud of small parts of me, rather than the whole.

That's sad.