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OREGON'S LGBTO NEWSMAGAZINE
W hen it comes to follow-through, I’m
sometimes lacking— an understatement, close
friends might argue. Over the years, I have
missed a number o f can’t-miss events, life-al
tering occasions. Weddings remain at the top
o f that list. Aside from the distaste that stems
from the crippling fear I feel at the prospect
o f tying myself to one person for all eterni
ty— and that I project that sentim ent onto
others, I loathe the pomp and circumstance
that usually accompanies such spectacles.
D uring my self-absorbed, booze-and-drug-
laden twenties, I flaked on many weddings.
My then-best girlfriend, Lindsey, bore the
brunt o f my antics. Not only did I skip her
wedding, I missed her college graduation. She
moved to San Diego to finish school— after, I
mustered a hundred reasons to regularly visit.
(I got the run o f her studio apartment in su
per gay Hillcrest.) Back then I couldn’t possi
bly fathom a reason to make someone else a
priority. I suppose everyone exhibits shameful
characteristics sometimes.
I’ve since made strides, concerted efforts to
annihilate the leftovers from my twenties-as-
teens persona, the result of growing up with
tongue-talking born-agains. Regret is only
useful if you can use it to forge some greater
good in your life. In that way, regret is useful.
H urting people like Lindsey— and watching
Regret is only useful if you can use
it to forge some greater good in your
life. In that way, regret is useful.
a friendship end after repeated hurting—
helped me realize there are some things you
simply can’t skip. Weddings top that list.
So, despite my inability to procure a date,
recently I ventured to Edgefield for my friend
Christian’s wedding. Christian, probably my
best friend in high school, always provided
respites from my then-crazed religious cir
cumstances. “Your church is insane. God isn’t
like that,” he’d say— little seeds o f doubt that
helped me grasp my sanity and hang on for
dear life. I took heart, but to me, Jesus was
Jesus: mad as hell and on a rampage.
D uring my drive to Edgefield, I mused.
W ho goes to a wedding alone} W hat kind of
sad sack can’t round up a single person for
hosted bars and wedded bliss? It’s one thing to
show up solo to a party where you’ll know 20
people, it’s quite another to venture oft' to a Je
sus-themed wedding where you know 5: the
groom, the bride and the groom’s family, whom
MARCH 18, 2011
2LJÄ
and a woman marrying today.” (I’ve attended
that wedding.) Was I missing something?
Between the ceremony and reception, drink
tickets. We were free to roam Edgefield, nest
ling in any bar we chose. I found the closest
watering hole, an oddly shaped, closet-like
setup and passed the time sipping beer. I met
a man named Skip— a recycled biker-plus-
old, weathered Jesus combo, with hair to the
floor and a penchant for mumbling. He w ant
ed to talk religion. Hesitant at first, I found
him compelling. Instead o f religion itself,
Skip ranted about social justice, helping peo
ple. Soon Christian’s father, who recently
abandoned a strict religious congregation,
joined us. “This may surprise you, Daniel, but
I voted for Obama. And Palin? Dumbass.”
And we all drank together.
Although I slipped out discreetly during the
reception (a struggle I’ll address later), I loved
most every minute of that night. My friend
Christian, again, helped me take heart. I stared
down lingering, pesky fears and caught sneak
peeks of specimens I didn’t realize existed: ra
tional-thinking Christians, ones not fixated on
the gays and destroying unions. And I decided
the world would be a much better place if they
collectively wrestled the microphone away
from Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck.
you haven’t seen in 12 years. As I ambled up
the gravel walkway, basking in Troutdale’s im
pressive brand of nature, hordes of strangers
surrounded me, pouring into the auditorium.
I settled in a middle row; I counted chairs,
not wanting to be the sad single person whom
10 couples ask to move. Hoping to blend in, I
didn’t— as soon as the aisle started filling up, I
was peppered with questions. “Is this seat tak
en? No? Bev, over here, this guy’s by himself,
these seats are open! You, could you scoot down
a few seats and make room for all my friends?”
Christians generally terrify me. (I’m rooted
in agnosticism, religion’s bisexuality.) I can
hold my own one-on-one or in smaller groups,
but the prospect o f facing hundreds at once
transports me back to my alter ego: the anx
ious queer kid sitting in Pentecostal Sunday
school. I fear spectacular prayer circles, “L et’s
cast demons out o f gay Daniel” liturgies. My
panic eased, though, as the wedding began—
and it turned out quite charming, even en
chanting. Imagine my surprise when the offi
ciant quoted Cornel West, among others. The A lady is beginning to love weddings— and she
ceremony: lots o f talk about love, family, jus still regrets missing Lindsey's. Email danif . l <®
tice, no mention o f “Thank God it’s a man justout . com .
RTLAN D
■PF
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