In 8th grade, I had a crush on my history teacher, Mr. Kerley, which in a novel would be foreshadowing of a tendency to inappropriately fall for gay men. And worse, for a long time, to not know they were gay!
It wasn't just that Mr. Kerley was well groomed and neatly dressed; it was that he was so smart and so understanding - it seemed like he had the answer to everything. Looking back, I can see now that he was just a really great history teacher. I didn't understand that he was gay. Not when I admired his immaculately color-coordinated clothing. Not when I went to see him perform in a play at the community theater. Not until I was a senior in high school, working as a hostess in a restaurant, and I seated him and his partner at a table... initially I assumed that the man he was with was just a friend. But whenever I glanced over at him, not having seen him in three years, seeing the way he and his partner bent their heads close to talk... for the first time it dawned on me that the man he was with was someone he loved.
Mr. Kerley was much older than I was, so it's not like I ever had a real shot at him anyway. And he was gay, so even if I had been in his age range, I wasn't the kind of person he was attracted to - that's life, I thought.
Little did I know at the time that gay men would give me, a straight woman, the very thing I most wanted from another person.
When I was in college, I worked part-time and became close friends with a co-worker. I admired his sharp, color-coordinated clothing and his style. He and I enjoyed the same movies (I'm a romantic comedy and Meryl Streep kind of movie-goer and so was he!). I thought he was wildly entertaining when he performed in plays at the college theater. One time, I told him that some people had told me that he was gay, and he made a funny comment about how difficult it is to be a straight man who loves show tunes. Even though he denied it, I should have known. I pined for him. He was uninterested. He finally came out the year after graduation. This was difficult for him, for many of the usual reasons -- we live in the south; his father was a methodist minister; he naturally feared rejection. He is my best friend.
A decade later, I started working at a magazine and by this time had come to recognize some of the hallmarks of gay manhood (although, don't get your panties in a twist, I know that plenty of gay men don't fall into any such categories - witness Caleb on last season's Survivor for heaven's sake). I became good friends with a co-worker who happened to be a gay man. In his free time, he did make-up for local theater productions, and he would also do make up for women for special occasions, like weddings or prom. He taught me how to wear make-up and look more put together - very helpful for special occasions... He was and is such a thoroughly good person. He's been with his partner for twelve years now. They're the kindest couple you could ever want to meet.
Why have I been so drawn to gay men, practically my whole life, before I even understood what gay was or that gay was?
I think it's because the gay men I've known have given me something that no one else ever really has - complete acceptance. Of who I am, just the way I am. They've freely offered to me the very thing that our society denies to them. I don't think I can overstate the value of this gift.
At the risk of sounding like a corny romantic comedy, I just want to say to gay men, (and lesbians too, but I don't have personal experience with them) that I love you and accept you, just the way you are. Thank you for being who you are.
I know that one day our society will regret standing in the way of your ability to live and love.