Growing Up, I Guess

I've been going back and forth about whether to post this or not. It's not an easy thing to talk about and I've discussed the whole thing with Matty about whether I should do this. He hasn't tried to influence me one way or the other, but has been incredibly helpful in going over the pros and cons. He also suggested that I write it all out and then decide if I wanted to post it. After I decided, he said I had a lot of courage and he was proud of me.

We haven't posted anything this week (except for some eye candy on Monday) and it's been a while since we wrote about anything terribly personal. I now think I'd like to share a little bit of what's been happening for two reasons. The first is that writing this has helped me get clear in my head about what I'm feeling, and the second is that I thought maybe it might be helpful somehow to somebody reading this who might be going through something similar.

I've written before about my relationship with my dad. We had a rocky relationship when I was a little kid going back as far as I can remember. I don't want to rehash everything I've already written but there's a post I titled My Dad and his Girly-Boy Son where there's a little more detail. There's one sentence in that post that's not true. I said that my dad had never been physically abusive to me when he had been drinking. At the time I wrote that I honestly didn't think his shoving me against the wall or slapping me was considered "abuse." Mainly because I felt like I provoked him and had a part in it.

When he was drinking he turned into somebody I didn't recognize and would say really nasty things. My mom and sister would stay out of his way when he got like that, but yours truly would start arguing with him and start calling him names, which only made things worse.

I would get in his face and start yelling at him, which got me shoved and pushed against the wall. A few times I wasn't quick enough on my feet, or maybe it was stubbornness, but I tried to stand my ground and I got slapped. I never saw it as "abuse" because I felt like if I had kept my mouth shut and just left the room, he might have calmed down. Instead, I felt like I had only made it worse.

Well, my dad finally stopped drinking and started going to A.A. and eventually our whole family started going to see this family counselor. The counseling really helped all of us and we got a lot of things out on the table. My dad and I even talked about times he use to make fun of me for being "girly" when I was a little kid and when he called me his "faggot son" when I came out to them.

He apologized for all that and he and I even saw the counselor by ourselves for maybe 4 or 5 sessions. I got the chance to say everything I was feeling and he took responsibility for what he said and how he acted. It was a major breakthrough in our relationship and we eventually started getting close. When Matt came into the picture, he welcomed him and things finally seemed like they were starting to work out.

At the beginning of this year, one of the Resolutions I made had to do with my dad. I said I was realizing that the family sessions we had really didn't solve all the feelings I was having about what happened. Here's what I wrote:

"So what's the problem? Well, for some reason, getting everything out in the open, telling each other how we really feel, and my dad apologizing, hasn't erased all the bad memories. They're still there and I wish they would go away and stop bothering me."

I'm pretty good at pushing those bad memories away so they don't bother me too much. Every now and then they come back, but I just get my mind on other things and life goes on. The problem is a couple of weeks ago they all came rushing back like one of those high-speed trains that go hundreds of miles an hour down the track. And I haven't been able to slow the train or push anything in the background.

We were visiting my family and I was talking about my decision to eventually go to culinary school after I finished college. I honestly can't remember all the details of the conversation or how it got to the point where my dad made a sarcastic remark about my plans. It took me totally off guard and at first I thought he was just joking or maybe was in a bad mood or something like that. Later in the afternoon when he and I were alone, I knew he wasn't joking.

He set up a college fund for me after I was born, which I guess is something other parents sometimes do. His plan was for me to use the money to get through college (minus any scholarships I might get) and to hopefully be able to pay for a master's degree after college.

He asked me if the culinary training would result in a master's degree and I told him it wouldn't. Some schools offer a master's degree but it's mainly for people who want to study "food science," something called "Human Resource Management in a Hospitality Setting," "Cost Control," etc. None of that is anything I'm interested in. Whatsoever. I want the basic diploma and certification as a Chef. Plus a master's degree takes longer and costs a ton of money. Regardless of that, I'm just not interested in it.

My dad said I would be on my own if I didn't get a master's degree. When he told me that I just listened. I mean, he had already said the deal had always been to help with a master's degree. I got a little confused because getting a basic diploma and certification would cost a hell of a lot less than a master's degree. But it's his money and it was pretty clear he had made up his mind.

Then he made a few more sarcastic remarks about my career choice (or in my mind, my career dream). Let me put it this way. The tone of his remarks was that a culinary career was not a "real" career. He's always hoped I would go into something similar to the kind of work he does. I guess he sees being a lawyer as "real" work and being a chef as something frivolous. I'm beginning to think he sees being a chef as nothing more that "just cooking," which I think in his mind is "women's work." Yeah, I'm beginning to see my dad as more chauvinistic than I thought.

I tried to explain that there were probably more males as professional chefs than women, but I guess when you're talking to somebody with a closed mind, you're wasting your time.

Before we dropped this so-called "conversation" we were having, he made some really vague comments about how maybe it was a "waste" of money for him to be paying for even my college education. I guess because there's no master's degree coming out of it when it's all over, maybe he was thinking my college degree was a "waste." I couldn't even talk about this any more with him, so I dropped it and Matty and I went home.

What's been happening with me after all this is what I mentioned earlier. There's been a high-speed train of emotions running at maximum speed in my mind. Memories of all the crap I've gone through in my life are on that high-speed train and I can't stop thinking about it. I haven't been able to make it go away and every day it's been getting worse.

By this time, I'm not even thinking about what got this high-speed train moving. By that I mean I've been going back and reliving all the bad stuff in the past. I can't stop thinking about it.

I've stayed home from school several times because I couldn't get out of bed. All I seem to want to do is sleep and for everybody to leave me alone. I sometime forget to eat and when I do I have to force myself to swallow and even than I have an upset stomach and get nauseous. I'm tired all the time in spite of all the sleep I get. When I'm awake I'm irritable and on edge, almost like I'm ready to snap or pick a fight. There's been a few times when my heart started pounding and I had trouble breathing. I had this feeling that something really bad was about to happen to me, but I couldn't pinpoint what that bad thing was. And the tears? It doesn't take much for me to just start crying. Sometimes I'm not even aware of thinking about anything and I start crying.

I've yelled at Matty a few times when he's tried to talk to me or give me reassurance or comfort, something I'm really ashamed of. I know he's been worried and when he makes a comment about how little I've been eating or my wanting to sleep all the time, I've gotten mad at him. We've been able to talk about it, and I've apologized, and things are a lot better between us now. I've been able to see that he's just been a ready target for a lot of stuff I feel towards my dad. We're better now and I have no idea how I would be getting through all this without him.

Well, all this has led me to a decision I made to call and get an appointment to see a therapist for myself. There's no way I'm ready to talk to my dad about all this. And I don't feel ready to even talk to him with a therapist present. Since all this has happened, he's not called me and I've not called him.

I'm just not able to pull myself out of this and things seem to be getting worse instead of better. I'm also beginning to wonder if maybe I've been sad or depressed or anxious most of my life and I've just been able to push it back.

Matty's done everything he can to help me with this. I could write a whole post describing how much he's helped me. I've talked to a couple of friends I trust, and they've been incredibly helpful and supportive. I could also write a whole post describing how helpful they've been to me.

The thing is, I don't want to risk bringing them down. So I called student health services on campus and talked to them about how I could see a therapist there. I have an appointment today at 3:00 pm for what they call an intake appointment. I'll be meeting with this woman to answer questions about why I want to begin counseling, and she's apparently going to be asking about my background and history and so forth. They already sent me this 25-page questionnaire with every question you can imagine, all the way from whether I've ever wet my bed, to my sex drive, to questions about suicide, to how I feel about God, and to whether I have pets. Then she said they will assign me somebody to talk to who they think would be a good match for me.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared shitless about this. I worry that talking about all this stuff will just make that high-speed emotional train go faster and will make things worse.

The friends I've talked to said it's normal to feel this but the whole purpose of therapy is to get to the bottom of things and work my feelings out, or learn ways to deal with my feelings and my past. I trust what they say and this is the main reason I haven't cancelled my appointment. I don't think I'd have the strength within me to do this without their support.

It scares me to open up to a stranger and talk about all this. I worry what they'll think of me. Will they think I'm some spoiled brat or some weak immature kid who's trying to act like an adult when he really just needs to "buck up" and quit feeling sorry for himself. Will they think I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill (an expression my dad use to make all the time).

A couple of my friends have said I probably have some kind of depression or anxiety and this recent thing with my dad just brought it all to the surface. I guess that's what I'll be talking about in therapy.

I've been wanting to think all this was just normal "growing up" stuff and I'd get through it on my own. But things aren't getting better with me... they're getting worse. I'm trying really hard to see asking for help as a sign that I'm "growing up," but the kind of growing up that will hopefully help me "be" grown up in the end.

I'm hopeful. At least I have that.

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Growing Up

I have a lot of growing up to do and it's a lot harder than I ever thought.

I want to share something that happened this past weekend that was really hard for me to go through while it was happening and is still hard even after everything got all worked out.

Just so you know, Matty saw this post before I put it here and completely supports me in posting it. We made an agreement before we ever started this blog that we would never use the space here to publicly agrue. 

We thought it might be a good idea to share a little of what happened because we're both learning that relationships can get really complicated sometimes and you can't always see what you need to do without the help of friends and people who care enough to be very honest with you.

I'll give a summary of what led up to the problem and then talk about how we worked things out.

Last week Matty had some negative feelings about something that happened between him and a friend of his. He got really worked up about the whole thing and within the span of just a few minutes had decided he never wanted to have anything to do with this friend again. He started saying all kinds of mean and unfair things about this friend -- but not to this friend. He was saying all this to me and a couple of other friends of ours. By the way, we're all friends with this person Matty was so angry at.

Nothing anybody said to Matty about how he was handling this was getting through to him. Everybody was telling Matty he should talk to the friend about what was bothering him and try to work things out. Matty kept getting more and more mad and said some really nasty things about the friend. It was really hard for all of us to be around because he was getting more and more worked up and couldn't see how talking to his friend would help. He just kept saying all these harsh things about his (and our) friend and wouldn't let any of us help him think about what he could do.

After a while he eventually calmed down and contacted his friend and within about five minutes everything was worked out. It had all been a misunderstanding on Matty's part and they're good friends again.

Matty then apologized to me and the other friends he had been talking to for saying all the harsh things he did and making all of us get really upset with him. You could tell the apology was real and genuine. Matty was upset with himself for being so unfair to the friend and was also upset with himself for involving all of us and being so self-centered (his words) that he was taking his feelings out on us.

Well, in addition to feeling good that Matty and his/our friend were okay again, we all accepted his apology, not that he was mad at the friend because that happens sometimes, but that he was taking his feelings out on us and pushing us away while we were truly trying to help.

After he apologized and I (thought) accepted it, I didn't realize at the time that I was still feeling really upset with him. To be completely honest, I had this worry that maybe he didn't really learn anything and it might happen again and the apology was just empty words.

I didn't tell him this because at the time I didn't realize I was still doubting his apology. All I knew was that I was still skeptical of his apology and thought I had to keep some kind of "punishment" going because -- and this is hard to admit -- I sorta felt like I couldn't trust his apology. I kept my distance from him and sorta started this cold war.

Later the next day he was joking around with me and just being his usual silly self. He's actually a lot of fun to be around when he's feeling happy and enjoying being with me. Sometime he likes to pick on me, all in a playful and fun way, and we go back and forth with these really silly jabs and usually end up feeling super close to each other. What Matty didn't know was that I had this "secret cold war" still going on inside of me.

At one point I asked him to stop all his kidding around because I was getting irritated with it, but he thought I was just being playful and kept on and on and on, trying to get me in a better mood. When he wouldn't stop and I had enough, I snapped at him and it sorta startled and confused him. He could tell I was serious and, since he didn't know there was this cold war going on, he snapped back at me. Since we're being honest here, I called him an asshole and he snapped back and said I was being the asshole.

Well, the cold war then became a hot war and I stormed out of the house, got in my car and called my sister. My sister and I have always been really close and I can tell her anything and know she'll listen to me, take me seriously, and be totally honest with me.

I told my sister everything that happened over the past few days including how Matty handled the friend situation, including the fact that he apologized for how he had taken out his feelings on me and the other friends who were only trying to help him out.

I told her I didn't know if Matty would go back to his old ways and do it all over again and I had to keep on him and not cut him any slack because I maybe didn't trust his apology.

Eventually my sister said something like, "You make Matty sound like he's our dad." You see, my dad use to make all these screwups when we were growing up and then he'd apologize and we'd believe him and then he'd start drinking again and being a real asshole. It got to where nobody believed him anymore and we all ended up really hurt and didn't trust his apologies anymore. My sister pointed out that when somebody close to me screws up and then apologizes, I have a hard time believing them.

The other thing I realized was that when Matty gets going with all his kidding around, most of the time he's really fun to be around. He's got a wicked sense on humor and most of the time we have a ball joking back and forth. Then sometimes I start loosing my patience with it and ask him to cut it out. I guess he thinks I'm just kidding and he keeps on with the joking while I'm getting more and more annoyed until I finally snap at him.

I know a lot of it has to do with his ADHD. Up to now I've been putting it all on him to control that. The medication he takes helps a lot, but sometimes he can get really, really hyper and I don't know what to do to make him chill. So, I snap at him. Guess what that does? It only makes it worse and I end up really pissed off at him and he ends up confused and pissed off because he thought he was just being funny.

Two really close friends of mine pointed out to me that this is something Matty was born with it and it's a part of him and if we're in this relationship "in sickness and in health," then I can't just put everything on him to "fix" or "control" his brain and how it works. They said I should have a serious talk with him about it and see if we can't figure out I can help him with it. For example, when I'm getting aggravated and annoyed and irritated, maybe we could work out a signal I could give Matty so he knows I'm not playing around anymore and for him to see if he could take a one minute chill.

So, two big lessons came out of all this for me:

One is to not take out my feelings about my dad on Matty. When Matty does something that makes me mad, like lash out at me when he's really mad with someone else, and then realizes what he did and apologize for it, I have to give him the chance to show he means the apology and not automatically assume he's like my dad and can't be trusted.

The second lesson is about the ADHD. I have to realize that since we're in this relationship together, I have a part to play in helping him understand how it affects me and we both have a part in finding some ways to deal with it when it becomes a problem. That's what being together "in sickness and in health" means to me. You can even change those words to mean, "during problems and good times." It's all the same to me.

So, yeah, like I said at the beginning, growing up is a lot harder and more complicated than I ever thought. I have to trust more (which can be scary because of all that stuff with my dad) and I have to see our relationship as a "partnership" where we work together when we're having problems.

Oh, and the other really, really big thing I learned has to do with how important it is to have true friends in your life. Friends who care about you and aren't afraid to tell you the truth and point out things you don't see. It might strain the friendship because they might be mad at you for being unfair to the person you love, but if friends can't be honest with each other when they care about you, then I guess they're not really friends at all. I'm glad I have some true friends in my life who care about me (and Matty) and help us while we're trying to grow up.

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Christmas in the E.R.

I know the title of this post sounds like something you'd see on television, but believe me it really happened. I'm okay but it was a little scary when it happened.

This may be one of the shortest things I've ever written because I have limited use of my left hand, so I'm gonna be running spell check and grammar check and Brad says I probably need to run some kind of sanity check, too! Always the comedian, ha ha!

First the good news. Brad put in a good word for me to Santa and I got a really nice woodcarving kit! You may remember me writing before Thanksgiving that our next door neighbor was teaching me about woodcarving. And if you've been following the blog for a while, you know I love stuff like this. Before I started college, I was working with this construction company in their home refurbishing section. I've learned a lot about building cabinets, bookshelves, tables, room molding, outdoor decks, etc.

But woodcarving is a lot more complicated, at least to me at this stage. You have these really small, but extremely sharp and pointed knives and the wood you're working with is a lot smaller than I'm use to.

Well, after a really wonderful day of celebrating Christmas with both our families, we returned home for our own little celebration, our first Christmas together since moving into our own place.

Brad got me this really nice woodcarving kit, and not one of those little beginner's sets. This one came with all kinds of speciality knives in addition to this special Kevlar glove you wear on the hand that's holding the wood in case the knife slips.

Well. After we opened our presents to each other and had some egg nog (not spiked, mind you, so I was in my right mind!), I had the box the knives call home balancing on my lap. I was just taking one knife out at a time, looking at how they were all different from each other. Just being curious. I was not carving. Somehow the box slipped out of my lap and went crashing to the floor and I guess I had this automatic reaction where I was trying to catch the box with one hand while holding one of the carving knives with the other hand. Well, guess what happened? I accidentally stabbed the knife into my left hand between my thumb and index finger.

Before I knew what was happening, Brad saw the blood before I did. It actually took a few seconds before I even felt any pain. So Brad grabs my hand and tells me to cover the wound while he runs to get a clean towel so we can press it and try to stop the bleeding. At this point I'm feeling extreme pain and neither of us can tell how serious the wound is because of the bleeding.

Before I know what's happening, Brad's leading me out to the car and we're off to the emergency room. Once we get there, they see the blood-soaked towel and get us in pretty quickly. They get the story of what happened from Brad and start cleaning my hand and then determine it needs to be sutured. Thank God I didn't do any serious damage to any of the muscles or tendons and the doctor said the knife didn't go in all that deep. They sewed three stitches (or sutures) to close the cut and I was given some antibiotics and some pain pills.

Well, I was given first-class care by my purtty live-in nurse! The next morning purtty Nurse Bradley had to go to the drugstore to get some more gauze and tape and other stuff, and before he left he made sure I had taken one of my pain pills. Man-oh-man do those things take care of the pain. I felt like I was in some kind of paradise and was floating all around the room, not a care in the world. The pill Nurse Bradley gave me eventually made me extremely groggy and I drifted away from Paradise and took a short nap. I must have moved my hand a certain way because I jolted awake from this sharp pain and called out to the Nurse. Well, the Nurse was making a mercy run to the drug store and I looked over and saw the prescription bottle of pain pills. Since I was so groggy, I had no memory that I had already taken one, so I popped another one.

When the Nurse returned, he shook me awake and I must have been as loopy as hell because I could see this worried look on his face, but I felt like I was returning to Paradise with a vengeance. He asked about the pain and I giggled and said I just took a pill so there was nothing to worry about. Then I started drifting back to sleep.

The Nurse called the doctor to see if it was dangerous that I'd taken two pills so close together and was assured that it was okay but to stay close by and watch me and call if I seemed to be hallucinating or wouldn't wake up. Well, with such a prutty nurse holding my hand and never leaving my side, I just drifted in and out of sleep and was told later I said some really funny things, a few of which were X-rated! One of my requests seemed to be something about massaging my penis and getting in bed with me to keep me company. The prutty Nurse said he was not allowed to get in bed with the patient due to something about professional standards, which I must have thought was the funniest thing I ever heard! Then I drifted off to sleep again.

Needless to say, I got off those loopy pain pills as quickly as I could and started on just regular tylenol. I've been fine ever since.

I had a followup appointment with the doctor to check on the wound and was told it looked fine. Why do doctors talk that way? I mean, after stabbing my hand, all the bleeding involved, three sutures, going all loopy on those pills, the doctor looked at it and said, "Okay. It looks fine." Guess they see worse things every day, but he explained that there appeared to be no signs of infection and he felt he wouldn't have to schedule an amputation. Ha ha!

I tried to get my prutty live-in Nurse to take dictation so I could send some emails out to some friends, but he said that wasn't in his Nursing job description! I swear you can't get good hired help today! LOL. He did, however, eventually bend his "professional" standards and took some short dictation for those emails and I noticed I didn't have to even ask him to join the poor patient in bed. Before I got off the loopy pills, I think the Nurse may have taken advantage of the patient because the patient went back to Paradise, but this time that Paradise was called an orgasm. I wonder if I should report the Nurse for unprofessional conduct? Nah, I think he knew it would help in his patient's recovery. And that it did.

Oh, one last thing. I think I may have to report the nurse for hiding my woodcarving kit somewhere. He absolutely refuses to tell me where it's hidden. I think I have to be wearing that special glove, one on each hand, along with goggles and a Kevlar jump suit before I can handle it again. And the Nurse said he has to be present when I get it back. Well, I agreed to most of those things since the Nurse asking me has my best interests at heart and is so damn purtty!

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Trying to be a Friend

For some reason I continue to be amazed at the cruelty in the world.

This summer I've been working as a server (aka "waiter") at this really cool restaurant. We're located not too far from this university so we get a lot of college kids during the lunch shift, which is when I work.

I haven't had any real major problems with the people I serve, only the occasional guest who is what the shift manager calls "very entitled." In other words, the kind of person who thinks you are there as their personal slave... somebody they can be condescending toward and treat as a non-person. They treat you like you're some kind of nasty low-life and you get the feeling they want you to bow down when they enter the restaurant and kiss their ass for the privilege of serving them. My word for them is "pathetic." As annoying as they can be, I seem to be able to handle those kinds of people pretty well. I've learned it's all a matter of trying to maintain the right attitude and focusing my main attention on all the other people who are really decent, which is probably 99% of all the guests.

The "cruelty" I referred to in the first sentence is a whole different animal. I can understand people who are just plain "pathetic" better then I can understand people who are "cruel."

There's this one person I work with (I'll call her "Diane") and she and I have become really tight friends. She's also a server. I'm not sure of her exact age, but I would guess she's about 25 or 26. When I started working there she was the person I followed around for the first few days (she called me her "shadow") until I got the hang of how things were done. I couldn't have asked for a better trainer. She really took me under her wings and gave me all kinds of advice that would make the actual work go smoother and easier. I really appreciated how she treated me and I always look forward to the days when we work together. Matt and I have hung out with her and her boyfriend a couple of times and we've always had a good time.

Well, she confided in me at the end of last week that she and her boyfriend had this huge argument. She was sorta downplaying it at first and I got the impression is was probably just one of those "garden-variety" type of things that happens sometimes. She didn't give many details but the more she talked, the more upset she seemed.

When our shift ended, I asked her if she wanted to get a soda and go to this park down the street to talk. Well, she opened up and told me her so-called "boyfriend" had hit her and slapped her around some during this argument. Even then she was downplaying it, which I had a hard time understanding. We talked some more and she said this was not the first time he had done something like that. She was actually a little taken aback when I told her that there was no way she should downplay what had happened. I told her there was no excuse for what he had been doing, that it was wrong and I was worried about her.

Then she said something that surprised me. She just turned to me, had this small smile on her face and said, "Well, you know how guys can be sometimes." I was dumbfounded. Not what I expected to hear! I got angry at that point (which I still feel bad about) and said straight to her face, "No, goddammit! This is NOT how guys can just be sometimes!" I think my anger startled her and then I realized she was feeling like I was criticizing her, or blaming her. When I explained that she was not at fault and I was not saying she did anything wrong, she started crying. I just leaned in and put my arms around her and tried to soothe her the best I could.

I tried to think of what to say to her. I mean, I've never had a friend tell me anything like this before. I knew they lived together and all I was thinking about was her safety. I was sorta stumbling around with what to say and just asked her if she ought to move out and get her own place or maybe stay with a friend until she could sort things out. She said she was worried that this might make him even angrier. I was running all kinds of ideas in my mind and ended up being very direct with what I thought. I felt like as a friend I owed her that. But I also didn't want to say anything like I was in control of her life or anything. I didn't want her to feel like I was pressuring her. I mean, the last thing I wanted to do was have some kind of controlling attitude that she might see as similar to how her boyfriend treated her.

So, all I said was, "Look. This is probably just going to get worse. I mean, I think you're telling me all this cause you trust me. I want to help and I don't want to find out you ended up in the hospital or dead." I got her to agree to at least talk to my dad, who is an attorney. So, I got on my cell, called him at his office, and she agreed to go over to see him in about an hour. She wanted me to go with her, which I was hoping she would ask. I think she needed some extra support or strength or something.

My dad made some calls and let her use a conference room at his office so she could call some program or agency in town that helps with domestic violence. She didn't want to leave this guy just yet because she didn't feel prepared for his possible reaction. My dad told her about restraining orders and gave her all kinds of legal advice. After being at his office for a couple of hours, she asked him how much she owed him. So, he said there was this category of legal work called "pro bono," and she didn't own him anything except her promise that she would consider everything he told her and call him if she wanted to go with the restraining order or had any other questions. He also told her about some "safe houses" where she could stay.

So, yeah, I can handle "pathetic" customers who come to the restaurant and want me to kiss their ass and treat them like royalty. Piece of cake. I don't like it, but those kind of people are not worth my time to worry about. It's the cruelty like what my friend has been going through that makes me want to turn into a raving maniac. When somebody deliberately hurts a friend of mine ... and puts their life at risk ... I'll do whatever I have to do to protect them. Maybe I'm being naïve or something. I mean I don't think doing something like this will end all the cruelty in the world. All I care about is being a friend and making sure I do everything possible to keep a friend safe from physical violence ... or worse, death.

I felt really special that she trusted me enough to tell me all this stuff. I felt like she was counting on me. How could I let her down? One lesson I'm getting out of all this is the value of friendship in this world. Maybe in the long run it will have some kind of positive impact on all the cruelty in the world. At least that's what I'm hoping for.

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Teasing, Being "Picked On," and Bullying

I had a number of second thoughts about posting this. On the one had it's about a very personal experience when I was in high school that was extremely painful and humiliating to me. I didn't want people to think I was looking for sympathy or anything along the lines of, "Oh, poor Matt."

On the other hand, I just read an article in the media (Advocate.com)  about the fact that from 2009 to 2010, there was a 23% increase in murders of LGBT and HIV-affected people in the United States, with the second highest yearly total ever recorded by the National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs.

It's probably true that most teenagers get teased and picked on in school. I think sometimes "teasing" can be completely innocent. I remember teasing and picking on some of my friends and my complete intention was to just joke around in a friendly way -- sort of like the way kids have of being friendly or even affectionate with each other.

And then there's all the teasing and "picking-on" that's meant to hurt and demean somebody else. That's a different animal altogether.

I sometimes think when people hear the term "bullying," they tend to see it as a word that describes normal teen behavior. I'm trying to remember to use the word Violence instead of "bullying." And that's what I'm talking about here.

Lots of teens like me have experienced homophobic abuse, bullying and violence in school and it's always been important to me that no one feel they are the only one experiencing it. When you feel you're totally alone, it makes what happened to you even more painful.

I was beginning to come out to myself at 15, but started coming out to others at 16. Even though I went to a pretty progressive high school, and most of my friends knew I was gay, there were still a few cretins and assholes there. I got plenty of respect and acceptance from friends, but these few cretins took every opportunity to call me all kinds of names and I was beaten up pretty bad one time.

One time this asshole from the South found out I was gay. He was a self-proclaimed “redneck” who prided himself on being ignorant and “tough.” One day he and 3 goon friends of his cornered me behind the school building and one held me while the others kicked and punched me, while calling me faggot, and other choice words. There were 5 or 6 of their friends watching this and laughing and cheering them on.

It was not only physically horrible, but the humiliation of being watched by others while it was happening was awful. I felt so totally alone.

I got a black eye and bruises on my arms and torso and my parents went to the boy's house and talked to his parents. My parents filed charges against the kid who organized the whole thing. They also went to the school the next day and had a conference with the principal. God only knows what my parents said to the Principal, but I was left along by that kid and his posse after that.

At the time I was totally convinced I was the ONLY gay kid being treated like this. My parents reassured me that I had done nothing wrong by deciding to be out at school and supported me all the way. I also got involved in the Gay/Straight Alliance (GSA) in my school and it proved to be an incredible support.  Sometimes it helps me to write about painful experiences. When all my thoughts are jumbled up inside, it's hard to sort things out so I can figure out how to handle the pain.

Here are some resources you can check out if you're being bullied or people have been violent toward you:

The Trevor Project, It Get's Better, Safe Space, Gay, Lesbian & Straight Network

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Tornadoes & My Knight In Shining Armor

Some of you may have heard about the tornado devastation we had here in Massachusetts this past Wednesday night. It wasn't on the same scale of destruction they had about a month ago in the Midwest and South, but when they start announcing tornadoes are touching down all over the place and they're headed your way, you never know how bad it's gonna be.

I was home all by myself when the news reports started coming in. My mom and sister had gone to visit some family friends in Rhode Island and my dad was at a two-day conference in New York.

All the local TV stations were having this Breaking News coverage and were actually broadcasting pictures of some of the tornadoes as they were touching down. I'd never seen anything like this while it was happening. I mean this was live TV. It was still early afternoon so the pictures were coming in pretty clear. They actually showed the top of this apartment complex being blown off while it was happening!

Man, I was in total freak-out mode. No matter how strong I like to think I am, when something like this is happening, and I'm all alone, and those tornadoes are headed my way, I thought I was gonna have a freakin panic attack. They were giving these time frames of when the tornadoes were going to hit different communities, and then there was the town I live in showing up on the screen! What am I suppose to do? They were saying to get ready to go to a safe place like your basement or cellar. And the TV announcers were all starting to freak out but trying not to show it.

OMG, I'm all alone and the house might be blown away! I might be killed! I just started getting more panicked and totally freaked out! Fuck! This might be the end! I then went from cry-baby mode to total, honest to God panic mode!

I went to make sure we had plenty of batteries for the radio in case we lost electricity. What was I thinking? I mean, if we didn't have batteries was I going to get in my car and go to the store? The wind was already blowing pretty fierce and they were warning everybody to get off the roads. Now, what was I suppose to do next?

I called Matt. I mean, I didn't know what else to do. They let him go home early from work and when he answered his phone, I started screaming and crying like a baby. He said he was already on his way to my place and was about 10 minutes away. ALREADY ON HIS WAY! He said he had already called his family and told them I was all alone. They had everything under control there, so they told him to be safe and make sure I was safe.

When he finally got there I grabbed him and held on tight. I couldn't stop crying. I was honest to God hysterical! Matt just held me, rubbed my back, soothed me, reassured me we were gonna be okay. Then he took complete charge like he had been through all this before (which he hadn't).

He made sure we had plenty of drinking water, so we began filling up these bowls and some empty spring water gallon bottles. The wind was coming from the west, so he got the storm windows down on that side. Then he got all the flashlights and batteries out, along with some candles. He went down to the basement to check things out there and then said we needed to bring the radios and other supplies down. He seemed to be in this total rational action mode. I mean, if I ever needed a man around, it was now! And he was there.

We watched the TV some more, and it looked like the storm was heading a little further south from where we were. At least our town was no longer on the TV screen as a possible target.

Matt NEVER let me out of his sight. I wouldn't have let him anyway, and I think he knew that. The announcers on TV kept saying you never knew if these storms might take a different track, so that got me freaked out even more.

After we did everything that could possibly be done, Matt led me to the basement and we watched TV there. He sat me on the couch and wrapped his very strong arms around me and cupped my head in his strong but gentle hands. He kept kissing me on my head and whispering to me that it was going to be alright. He then put the TV on "mute" so he could watch it, but where I couldn't see it.

Then out of the blue he started calmly telling me this story from his childhood about when his grandparents came to visit when he was like 6 years old. He started telling me all kinds of sweet things about his grandad and grandma, like how he was so excited to see them and what kind of presents they brought him and his brothers. His story went on and on and I learned some things about his childhood he had never told me before. I mean, he was telling all this in such a totally calm and soothing voice, I thought I might fall asleep, but I wanted to hear it all. And his very masculine arms were all around me. I sorta went in this fetal position and realized I was totally calm, like there was no storm going on and nothing to worry about.

The storm kept on a southward path away from us and Matt stayed the whole night. Just me and him. I woke up several times and realized he had undressed me and had me tucked away on the sleeper-sofa with blankets all around me and him laying there with his body cuddling me. The storm eventually passed and I was awakened around 3 AM with him making love to me. God I needed that like never before. But it was different this time. It wasn't like hot, wild, out of control romantic sex like we usually had. This was so loving and gentle and sweet, like he was saying, I am totally here with you. You have nothing to worry about. Nothing.

Do I believe in fairy tales? I do now. At least I believe in Knights in Shining Armor.

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My Dad and His Girly-Boy Son

I've always wanted a good relationship with my dad. For me, however, it's always been an on-again, off-again sort of thing. It seems like we're now doing some serious work to hopefully repair things for good. At least I hope so.

It's funny. There's this one memory I have going all the way back to when I was about 6 or 7 years old. Me and some of the neighborhood kids were outside running around like kids do. I also remember a lot of chaos was going on. You know, nobody was in charge and we were just all over the place having fun. I seem to remember there was a soccer ball involved, like we were just kicking it around with no clear purpose in mind. We were all in a good mood, laughing, yelling, screaming, just being typical little kids.

I don't know how reliable every detail of my memory is, but I do remember making a lot of noise, giggling, flapping my arms all over the place, running around like a kid raised by the wolves!

I remember seeing my dad leave the house heading for the car. He was probably on his way to run an errand or something. I like to think he was watching me for a second and just enjoying seeing his only son playing and having a good time. At least that's the memory I wish was true.

What I remember as clear as anything in my childhood is him yelling at me, "Brad, stop running around like a girl!" I also remember it suddenly getting very quiet. All the other kids seemed to stop in their tracks and were looking at me, then at my dad, then back at me. My dad got in the car and left. After a few more seconds of total silence, there was some snickering and the other kids were making fun of me. You know how kids can be. There was this chant, "Brad's a little girl! Brad's a little girl!" Even the girls were joining in.

I honestly don't remember what happened after that. One thing is absolutely sure in my mind, though. Somehow I fully understood what he meant. In the space of like three seconds I go from being a girl to a boy. I stop giggling. I straighten my body. I stop having fun. I don't know what to do next. I just wanted the chanting to stop. What did my dad see that I didn't see? All I knew was that he was my dad and I trusted him.

We never talked about what happened. I was totally afraid to bring it up. I mean, I was just 6 or 7 at the time. How do you talk about something like that with your dad? Especially if you're a little afraid of him? I was always waiting for him to bring it up again -- kinda hoping he would but also terrified that he might. I mean, I was hoping he would apologize for what he said and say he was just in a bad mood or something. That he really didn't mean to hurt my feelings, especially in front of my friends. But, then I was also afraid if he brought it up he might lecture me about how bad I was for "being a girl," and how disappointed he was that his only son didn't seem to know how to act like a boy.

Since he never brought it back up, I figured he was probably right. Maybe there was something really wrong with me that I was "acting like a girl."  Maybe there was nothing more to say about it. End of discussion. Case closed.

I think that was when I first started feeling totally different from everybody else. Even though I didn't know the word for it then, I believe that was the beginning of some kind of depression. All I knew at the time was that what he said made me feel so sad and ashamed. And there was nobody to talk to about it. What I decided to do was to watch the other boys and try to act like them. Looking back on it now, I think I started dying inside. I was so confused and and didn't know how to be what my dad wanted me to be. I wanted him to love me more than anything.

I think he wanted to like and accept me, but it came at the cost of stopping all that "girly" stuff. I tried a few times to toughen up and be what I thought he wanted me to be. He seemed to like me better that way. But did I want to give up playing dolls with my girl friends? And what about the thrill I got when some of the girls showed me how to apply makeup? None of it made any sense to me.

Fast forward to my early teenage years. My dad started drinking more than usual. I know he and my mom were arguing more. It scared the hell out of me. I worried they were going to divorce and I didn't even want to think about how my world would collapse after that. I was totally convinced I was the cause. I knew at some level that he felt all of us were a total disappointment to him. But, I felt I was more responsible for everything. I mean, I kept going back to that incident when I first disappointed him by "acting like a girl."

His drinking got gradually worse. He never, ever got physically abusive. But when he was drunk, he would say horrible things. I had come out as gay to them when I was 15. Maybe that was a mistake. I mean my mom and sister totally accepted it. My dad just looked disgusted and called me his "faggot son." He never said anything like that when he was sober. He actually was a decent dad and did normal stuff with me, like talk to me about school, how I loved playing soccer, etc. He even use to come to some of my soccer games and appeared proud of me. But then when he was drunk, it was some other person inside my dad's body.

I don't want to go into all the details here for personal reasons, but the end result was that he decided to stop drinking. He started going to some A.A. meetings, which I know was hard for him to do. He had a few slips but it didn't seem like he was going back to his old ways where he became verbally abusive. He actually went back to his meetings and got what they call a "sponsor," which, from what I can tell is like some kind of guide or somebody you could call when you feel like drinking and get encouragement and support.

He's been totally sober now for almost a whole year! June 15th to be exact. During this past year, he and I have been doing a lot of talking about our relationship -- one-on-one! How cool is that? We've also been to see this family counselor, another thing I knew would be hard for my dad. Tell you the truth, it was hard for all of us, including me. And you know what? This counselor is totally cool and smart and honest and blunt and, most important of all, caring. I can feel it. I totally trust her. 

She eventually pressed the issue of how everybody dealt with my being gay. And my dad talked about his feelings about his relationship with me -- his feelings, for God's sake! Not his bullshit feelings, but his honest-to-God feelings of being sorry for causing so much pain to me. I have to be honest and say it was hard to believe him at first. Was he just saying this to get the counselor off his back? Well, as they say, the proof is in the pudding. I've gotten to the point where I trust what he says when he tells me he is truly sorry for the verbal abuse and not being there for me.

Last week he took me to see this soccer game a friend was playing in. Afterwards he took me out for ice cream. Just me and him. Without any prompting from me, he brought up the gay thing. He told me he was totally cool with it. I just grinned and said, "Even the girly-boy part of it?" He smiled, lowered his head, then raised it and looked me directly in my eyes. All he said was, "I'm cool with the girly-boy part, Brad." Then, wonder of wonders, he just added, "You're my son. And you know what that means? I love you. All of you. Period. End of discussion."

We both got teary and then he asked how me and Matt were doing. Well, that got on a happy subject. He actually asked all kinds of questions about Matt. As we were walking back to the car to go back home, he put his arm around my shoulder and just said, "Matt deserves somebody like you."

So, I'm learning a lot about love and forgiveness. And guess what? My dad's proud of me! I think this is going to work. I have to believe that. I mean, that's what "hope" is about, right? Hope and love.

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"Motor Mouth" or Something Serious? part 2

To say that I was scared shitless about bringing all this up would be an understatement. But I had a choice, which was to stuff my pissed feelings and just concentrate on everything that was going unbelievably well and hope for the best, or, to find out what the hell was going on so we could either talk about it and work it out or, worse-case, figure out whether we had a future together. I didn't want to end up getting really hurt even harder later on if it was something I couldn't deal with. And the whole drug possibility was totally freaking me out.

So, I got up my courage and told him we needed to have a serious talk. We were already planning to go on this picnic hike on a State wildlife reservation north of Boston on Saturday a few days ahead. Matt had been before and he said it was never crowded with lots of people. And there were these really cool secluded areas in the woods just off the trail.

He asked me what I wanted to talk about (fair question). I didn't want to get into it then so all I said was something like, "I just want to tell you how I feel about you -- and us. You know, our future together and where we go from here." He looked relieved but I could also tell he was a little confused. This would be the first time in the month we had been dating we had ever had a "sit down serious talk." I think he could also tell I had this serious look on my face. He asked if I could give him a hint, and I just grabbed his hand, gave it a squeeze and repeated what I had just said. He raised our hands to his lips and kissed my hand. All he said was, "Well, anything having to do with you is worth the wait."

I tried  to make everything normal until Saturday, so we got back into our usual flow, even though I felt like we were both a little more chill than usual.

When we got to the reservation on Saturday, Matt led us to the trail he said would lead to this little clearing in the woods that was kinda private. Luckily when we got there, nobody was around.

Matt had packed this really cool picnic lunch. He knew I loved these "subway" sandwiches with lots of lettuce, tomatoes, cheese and peppered ham. Plus he brought some lemonade (which I love) and -- most importantly -- plenty of your good ol' junk food (every teenager's delight!), such as potato chips, chocolate chip cookies and some kind of moist cake made mostly of chocolate!

We spread out our picnic and began eating and talking about how beautiful the place was. I felt like it wouldn't do any good to delay our talk, plus, even though I was scared as hell, I couldn't just pretend this was "just another walk in the woods," so to speak.

So, I just said something like, "So, I guess you're wondering why I called you here?" Matt smiled but had this worried and freaked look on his face and I just said, "Well, I want to tell you some stuff I've been thinking about and before you respond, I need you to let me get everything out and then we can talk about it. No questions, no interruptions, no discussing till it's all out. Okay?" He kinda smiled and said, "Sure. No problem. It might be kinda hard to not say anything till you're finished, but, sure, I can do that." I told him, "Well, that's kinda what I wanted to talk about."

I won't go into a detailed transcript of what I said, but I basically summarized how happy and lucky I felt to be boyfriends. I gave some examples of what our relationship meant to me and how happy I've been over the past 4 or 5 weeks.

Then I told him I wanted to know him even better but said I had been finding that hard to do. I said not to take this wrong, but, "sometimes you come on kinda strong. I mean I always want to soak up everything you say and have these great talks and everything. But sometimes, you know, it's hard for me to take it all in. Maybe you're just a lot smarter than me or something, but I don't feel like I have a whole lot of time to run everything you say through my brain. And then you just keep going and before I know it, I feel like I've been left behind."

So far Matt had just been sitting there listening to me, like I asked him to. He was looking right in my eyes and it seemed to to be going in. So I just said, "You know how we joke with each other a lot. Well, I don't know whether to give you a pet name like "Motor Mouth Matt" or if there's something else going on. I guess I'm confused sometimes because I don't know how to think about it. Sometimes you're fun to watch like you're this excited little kid and you just want to tell me everything that's going on in your head. And then other times I start getting kinda pissed cause you're words fall all over me and I don't feel like I have a chance to jump in. Does any of this make any sense or am I just being overly sensitive?

At this point, Matt looked down at the ground like he was thinking how to respond. Then he looked up and I swear to God his face was pale, and, oh shit, his eyes had all these tears in them. I thought he was going to start crying and felt scared like I'd hurt his feelings. He looked crushed and I didn't know what to do.

He then said something along the lines of, "Brad, I am so sorry I've put you through this. I totally apologize for making you feel all this. The last thing I want is to hurt you or make you pissed or anything like that." He had some tears going down his face and I wanted to take back everything I said. I had never seen him like this and it was killing me. But he went on...

"I've been called 'Motor Mouth' so many times it's not funny. Sometimes I feel like I can't control it like something gets control of my brain and I can't stop talking."

Then he said, "I want to tell you something that's hard for me to talk about. It's always been embarrassing for me. I'm not saying this is an excuse, but it is what it is."

Then he explained that when he was a little kid, he was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I knew a little bit about it but he went through a step-by-step explanation. He said he sometimes took this medication and even though the doctor said he might outgrow the "hyperactive" part of it, it was still there but not as bad as when he was little. He said he had learned ways to control it on his own, but he still needed the medication at times.

He explained that when he got "revved up" or overexcited about something it was like his brain was hard to control. Then he said that meeting me had been the most exciting thing that ever happened to him.

He also said he was still ashamed or something about having it. When he was a little kid, before it was diagnosed, teachers would get so frustrated with him because he couldn't sit still or stay focused on his work. He said he got called all kinds of names like "troublemaker," "brat," and yes, "motor mouth." One teacher even said he would probably end up in juvie because he was always talking back and getting in trouble. Plus the other kids didn't like being around him.

Well, by this time I was crying. I felt like I had just added to all his troubles. He could tell it and held my hands and then put his arms around me and told me I did the right thing by bringing all this up. The difference, he said, in me bringing it up and all this teachers when he was a kid, was that he knew I cared about him.

We talked and cried a little bit more and he said he didn't want to loose me. All I said was, "I want this to work."

On the way back home I told him I had been worried he was doing drugs or something. He assured me the only "coke" he had ever done was "Diet Coke" and he had no interest in doing drugs and had never tried any. I mentioned the thing about him going to the bathroom a lot when we were snuggling on the sofa watching movies. He laughed and said that was because he probably drank too much soda and had to pee a lot, and, well he always wore boxers instead of tighter undies when we snuggled and he had to, well, go adjust himself.

Anyway, there you have it. Our first "crisis" in our first month together. I felt drained and relieved and, well, good that we had the talk. It seemed like we might have a chance after all.

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"Motor Mouth" or Something Serious? part 1

As you might remember from some of the first things I wrote about meeting Matt that first time, this was not one of those relationships you hear about that go at a slow pace and take time to develop. A few minutes after meeting him that first time I was so turned on that I wanted to reach out and hold his face with both my hands and pull him in to kiss those lips, then take his clothes off and make passionate love to him the rest of the day. Only problem was, I met him at his eighteenth birthday party and there were maybe 20 or 30 other people there! Plus, I was only seventeen then and had never kissed another boy much less had sex and made love to one. But, whew, I was speeding inside with all kinds of feelings that I started getting lightheaded. As you recall from what I wrote, I played it cool and probably came across as super shy.

Soon after we met at his party he asked me out on a date for the following weekend. He wanted to take me to dinner and a movie. Very romantic indeed! During that first week before the date we talked on the phone every day.

Well, that first date sealed the deal for me, and maybe I'll write about that at some point. All I knew after that date was I wanted to see this guy every chance I could. But I really had to slow myself down. I mean, we had only known each other a week. Plus, I had never dated before and didn't know exactly how all this worked. I didn't want Matt to think I was lonely or needy or somehow pathetic. All I knew was that I wanted to find a balance between jumping his bones every time I saw him and just trying to be my natural low-key self.

Matt, however, was a different story. I mean he never came across as needy or anything, but whenever he was around, he always looked so eager and engaged -- a little anxious even. I always felt like there was this energy coming out of him that he sometimes had a hard time controlling. It was very easy for me to get swept up in all that energy, and, to be honest, it made me feel good. Being on the receiving end made me feel special and attractive. When he was around I felt like we were the only two people on the planet.

After about a month into the relationship, I started feeling like I couldn't keep up with him. He was always talking about different things we could do together like going to the beach, going sailing, going backpacking and camping. He was always talking about various plans he had for his future and a wide array of beliefs and philosophy about life. On the more relaxed side of things, I liked that he wanted to show me some of his favorite special spots where he liked to go to be by himself when he needed to think.

And, dear God, Matt always had ideas and thoughts and plans he couldn't wait to tell me about. All this was totally exciting and I remember thinking he was the most intelligent, exciting and interesting person I'd ever met. But sometimes he couldn't stop talking. It was like there was this engine inside him that was always on overdrive.

Sometimes he would be telling me about something and it was almost like all his sentences ran together. Or I would be telling him something and every now and then he would jump right in the middle of my sentence and take off running. In the beginning I just thought it was nervous energy and tried to be patient. As time went on I started getting seriously pissed. It was like he was sucking all the air out of the room. Sometimes he had trouble staying on one topic and his thoughts would go bouncing all over the place.

In that first month I was a little nervous about bringing it up to him. Everything else was going seriously great, but I didn't know how to talk to him about it. I decided to talk to two friends of mine about it. One of them said just to make a joke about it and use humor, like maybe call him "Motor Mouth Matt." Maybe he would get the hint and chill.

The other friend asked me if I thought Matt was doing drugs, like some heavy-duty speed or something. That might explain a lot. And I did notice he would go to the bathroom a lot while we were watching a movie at his or my house. Was he doing lines of coke or something?

Oh shit, please God, not that! Whatever it was, I was getting super nervous and worked up. I wanted to think he was just your run-of-the-mill "motor mouth" cause I could work with that. But if it was some shit about drugs -- man, I didn't even want to think about that. One of my cousins got into some serious trouble big-time with that crap and that was something I knew I didn't want to deal with. I would definitely not put up with that.

I felt like I had to be honest and just put it on the table and tell Matt what I was feeling. I would see how he responded, and if I needed to I would ask him about whether he was doing drugs. Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into? Is this something I'm gonna have to get out of?

So when I finally brought it up to him, he leveled with me. And it was not what I expected. We had a hell of a lot of talking to do after he laid it out.

I'm still thinking about how I'm gonna explain and write about this so I'll be up tonight finishing it and letting Matt read it before it goes up tomorrow. Right now I'm totally exhausted.

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Risky Business

We mentioned a while back that we wanted to write in a little more depth about some of the things we've discovered about ourselves as a couple. Some of these things are going to be easy to write about because they're fun and positive and -- at least to us -- interesting.

We're even talking about some stuff that has to do with our sex life. Some of the sexual stuff will be kinda funny, like a couple of unexpected hilarious things that happened in the heat of the moment. And then there's the difficult things maybe everybody goes through in the beginning like how to talk about what you like and don't like about sex. And then there's all that stuff about what sex means. Sometimes it's just pure and simple play. At other times it has all kinds of different meanings to is, some that are wonderful and exciting and some that are all tangled up in stuff that's happened in our past and is difficult and painful.

So we decided to write about one or two of these "serious" topics a week and use the rest of the week to slip in either some topics that mean a lot to us (like Prom Night, what we're dong this summer, some book reviews, etc.) or to just yap about such crucial issues as Matt's obsession with guys in Speedos or Brad's secret sexual fantasies (one of which Matt doesn't even know about yet)..... {"Huh??, Matt says"}.

There are two ground rules we agreed on as we go forward:

1. We both have to agree on any draft before it's published. Some of the topics are going to be seriously personal where we talk about painful things. Other topics might be very revealing and maybe embarrassing. So, these are topics we have to talk through first and both agree that what we've written is ready to be revealed.
2. Except for some of the silly and fun topics, we want to stay true to our "Mission Statement", as Missy calls it:

We're keeping these three things in mind while writing our blog: (1) Maybe you're a gay teen who's never been in a relationship and you're wanting to get a glimpse into how we're doing it; (2) Maybe you're in a relationship and we can all learn some things from each other; (3) Maybe you just want to go on this journey with us by offering you're insights, sharing in our discoveries, celebrating our love and offering your support.

So tomorrow Brad wants to write about the first crisis we faced. We both talked long and hard about whether to reveal what it's about in such a public place. For Brad it was an extremely hard thing to reveal and he almost decided to scrap it. For Matt it's very embarrassing and, well, you'll see for yourself tomorrow. In the end we both agreed that it's in keeping with our "Mission Statement" and we hope others can see how hard it is to confront very personal and difficult issues in a relationship. Relationships can be many things and you'll see tomorrow how we're both discovering it can truly be a Risky Business.

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