Confronting Daniel

I looked at Daniel, and we needed to talk. There were things that needed to be discussed, and the thought of doing so made me physically weak. This was my best friend in the world, and at the same time my worst. He had taken care of me for many, many years. But at the same time, he had made my life a living hell.

"Hi, Daniel," I said, smiling faintly, but trying to maintain an emotional distance. Thinking to myself, "Yeah, hi there, you two-faced piece of shit."

"What's the matter, my friend? You seem kind of upset." He looked at me like he was genuinely surprised, but I wasn't quite sure. I had known him my entire life, but I realized I no longer trusted him.

Normally I would have steered the conversation to more pleasant topics, things that wouldn't even approach the realm of conflict. But I needed answers, and I needed them now. "I AM upset, Daniel. You've ruined my life. All these years down the drain, thanks to you."

Again, that same surprised look on his face, that same sense within me that he knew everything, and I knew nothing. "Now, don't blame me for all YOUR problems. That isn't exactly fair," he said, with the ever familiar air of superiority. Well, maybe not superiority... authoritarian, maybe?

"When I look at my life, Daniel, a lot of discontent and unhappiness seems to lead right back to you." I was completely serious; I blamed him for everything. He had a lot of control over me, and I had let him. I was not a strong person, but I knew that things would soon be changing. I was 26 and suicidal, and if things were going to get better, it had to start with Daniel.

"Well, I'm just saying, maybe the root of your unhappiness lies somewhere other than me." He stared at me the same way he always had; normally I would just take his word for it and accept his opinion as my own.

"For instance?" I inquired, with a look that surprised not only him, but me as well. I had never spoken to him this way, and it felt empowering to do so.

"What about your father? Or maybe even your mother? Maybe you just got some really rotten breaks." His attitude seemed to change slightly, less defensive and perhaps a little genuine.

"You're right". I hate it when he's right. "My relationship with my father has always been rocky, and my mother's alcoholism certainly didn't help." I couldn't help but empathize with my father a little bit.

"Do you think your relationships with your parents are related to why you've been so driven to eat?" I was much more like my mother than I would have liked.

My self-hate came crashing in on me yet again. "I have a really ugly body. My arms are fat. My legs are fat. My belly is enormous. I even have trouble finding shoes that fit, I'm so god-damned fat." Pathetic, yes, but still true.

"Listen, your fat is not all bad." Now this statement I just couldn't believe at all. What the hell was he thinking?

"Oh, yeah, well tell me how it has helped me!", I shot back at him looking at him like he had suddenly had grown a third arm.

"Well, I let you get fat because it protected you. It keeps people away from you, and hides the inner you from the world. It's also a strong barrier to physical threats. You know how physical confrontation terrifies you. It always has, ever since you were young. Why is that?"

"I don't know. I guess by being fat, I would never be small and helpless again. And people leave me alone."

"You're right, you know. But there's more to it than that. Think."

I knew he was right. But I couldn't remember much, just a few isolated incidences. There were years of unhappy childhood memories locked up somewhere in my subconscious. Locked up safe where I didn't have to remember. But now I wanted to remember. I wanted to remember what was causing all the fear. I wanted to remember what happened, so I could understand what Daniel had been protecting me from all those years.

Daniel continued, "And what about sex?"

"Huh?"

"What about sex? That scares you, too, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does."

"Why does it scare you?"

"I'm afraid I might be gay."

"Oh, my god. You said it. You actually said it!"

"Do you think I'm gay?", I asked.

"Oh, yeah. I've always known it. I know you better than anyone. Probably better than you know yourself."

Again, he was right. I could hide things from myself, but I could never hide anything from him. "Well, yeah, but if anyone found out, I'd die ten times over. If, and I do mean if, I'm gay, my world will turn upside down."

"You say "if". What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't know. I mean, ever since I can remember, I was more interested in men than women. I've tried to be attracted to women, but it just doesn't happen. But I've never had sex, with a girl or guy. So can I actually be gay?"

"Being gay is a lot more than sex. And it's one of the things I've tried to protect you from for a long time now. You became non-sexual. You could pretend that you were straight. And that was only way you could survive in the world that you know."

"But I don't want to be! I want to get married. I desperately want to have kids! I don't want to be a faggot."

"Just because you're gay doesn't mean you have to be a so-called faggot. Your friend John is gay, and he seems really normal."

"I know, I was really attracted to him."

"See what I mean, you are gay."

"But what about The Church? I'd be excommunicated! I love The Church! I've been through the Temple, for goodness sake. I've been a member for almost eleven years! Most of my friends are Mormon. I could never come out of the closet. Heck, I'm not even sure that I'm in the closet."

"You're in the closet, all right."

Visions of past crushes went through my mind - various male celebrities, my ninth grade geography teacher, that doctor at the hospital's physical therapy department, back when I was a volunteer.

"But the Church is so opposed to homosexuality! They say it's a sin as grievous as adultery."

"Do you believe that?"

"Well, as I understand it, I can only sin if I choose to. I did not choose to be gay. Given the choice, I'd rather be straight! I want to get married. I want kids! If I'm gay, that will never happen!"

"No, it probably won't. But you absolutely cannot get married just to do it. It wouldn't be fair to her. Or the kids. They deserve a better situation that having a closeted gay man as a husband and father."

"Well, Daniel, I'm ready to do whatever it takes to accept this and learn to live with it. Please don't protect me anymore. I want to lose weight so I can feel normal. And alive. And sexual. And happy. God, I want to be happy again."

"Okay. If that's what you want."

"It's what I want."

I looked back into the mirror and in spite of my tears, smiled, really smiled, for the first time in years.