God's Gift

I forget sometimes how accustomed I've become to city life. After not hearing from a friend tonight about plans we had made to see a movie, and feeling some pressure to get out of the house as my roommate had a friend/sort-of crush over for a visit, I decided to accompany my friend Brent to the small town of Milton. About a 45 minute or so drive out of Toronto, Milton is home to Brent's older brother Jeff and his longtime girlfriend - well actually, as of today, she's his fiancee, which is why Brent was visiting them on a Tuesday night to begin with. Brent wasn't sure he wanted me to come at first, as Jeff isn't all that comfortable with the whole "gay" thing (not only is Brent gay, but so is his other brother Ryan), but I have met his brother before, so he decided it wasn't a big deal. I got out of the house, and Brent had company for the drive.

I had never been to Milton before tonight. Having grown up in Timmins, though, I am pretty familiar with the typical small-town landscape and knew what to expect. Sure enough, I spied two women stomping along the non-existent sidewalk by the highway down the road from a plaza as we entered the town: one in low cut jeans with a studded belt, a white short-cropped tank and a leather jacket, the other in unfortunately form-fitting jeans and a navy blue Goodwrench hoodie. Yikes. Just like being home again. In the city, they'd be easily mistaken for c-list lesbians, but in a place like this they were either bored teenagers on a late night stroll or new mothers enjoying a short reprieve from child-rearing duties with a trip to the gas station for a bag of Sun Chips and a smoke.

Jeff's street was quiet and harmless looking. Row after row of similar looking houses, and not a single tree older than ten years old. I swear I could still hear the roar of the clear-cutting bulldozers lurking just beyond the hum of the nearby highway in the distance. A dog barked next door as we got out of the car and walked up the brick driveway. Idyllic and restful to many I'm sure, but I find the whole suburban thing creepy as fuck. I realize that in a world where Desperate Housewives is a top-rated show this isn't a particularly earth-shattering revelation, but sweet lord! How can anyone stand to live in such a bland cookie-cutter place?

The visit was nice enough. We congratulated the happy couple, met their next door neighbours and another couple who had stopped by to wish them well, drank a few beers, and later ordered pizza. Now I know I only just met these people, and I wasn't expecting deep emotional connections, but the conversation centred around the weather, traffic, where we should order the pizza from, and pets. I managed to make some inroads a little later with Ian and Christina, the nieghbours, when we discussed the difficulties of learning to live with someone with whom you're in a relationship. Ian then told an amusing anecdote about the time he had Christina help him put together a bbq by having her use a wrench to hold the head of a bolt in place while he tightened it from the other side. Apparently she wasn't really holding it in place at all and the bolt kept turning without tightening.

"I mean, jeez!" he exclaimed, giving me a bit of a nudge, as if to say "oh, I love women, but boy are they stupid sometimes."

I laughed, and then so did they, but unlike them I was laughing at the idea that, based on this nudge, he might think I was even remotely straight.

I know I sound like a judgmental bitch right now. I don't begrudge these people their happiness, really, I don't. I even kind of find it endearing. I wish, sometimes, that such simplicity would be enough to make me happy and fulfilled and engaged, instead of needing, indeed, loving the constant bombardment of diverse stimulation that living in the city provides. It certainly looks like things would be easier that way.

Of course it's all an illusion. I'm sure their lives aren't simple. Everybody's is messy and complicated and confusing... isn't it? I wonder.

This little excursion out of my little gay bubble reminded me of a couple important things. I don't want my life to be easy. Less stressful, perhaps, but not easy. I don't think I would ever learn anything if things became too straightforward. And the other reminder? Given the choice, I'd take my crazy, hedonistic, ridiculous, rollercoaster gay-bubble existence over a straight life in suburbia every time. Since a suburban dream appeared to not be an option for me as I grew up and came out, as I would never fit in anyway, I felt like I was given carte blanche to invent my own idea of happiness. My own idea of family. To build the fabric of my life based on no one's standards but my own. I'm not sure I would have realized this was possible were I not queer (in which case, sadly, I probably wouldn't know what I was missing anyway). What an amazing gift.

So this weekend, while people around the world rejoice in Christ's dying for all of our sins only to shove a boulder out of his way and rise again three days later, I'm going to lift my face to the sky, throw my hands in the air, and say "Thank god I'm gay!"

Amen.