Thursday, April 21, 2005
Answering the Question
I love women. My most vivid memories tend to be intimate moments with the women who have come and gone through my life--not necessarily sexual, but intimate.
I can remember the feel of Cindy’s cold nose as she kissed my cheek. It was a snowy Colorado day--the day after a blizzard--and we were walking through snow up to our knees. She had beautiful eyes and a smile that, in memory, still touches my heart. When she stretched up to kiss my cheek, her soft skin brushed against me and I remember feeling a contented happiness.
I can remember my first date with Chris. When we got back to her condo, she asked if I wanted to come in for a bit. We talked for hours, looked through her photo album, and, finally, when it was time to leave I gave her a hug. She leaned into me; a fragile body holding me tight and smelling like oranges (she used soap from Mary Kay that always left just the slightest taste and smell of spices and orange on her skin). She kissed me on the neck--a surprising, sweet gesture that left me grinning and feeling that same little bit of contentment.
I have other little moments locked away in my head like that, some with my current girlfriend, some with Cindy or Chris or Joy. Little tiny things that define the greatest joys of my life. Most I could share in public, some I most certainly couldn’t; love and intimacy are never confined to purely sexual expressions.
And while some of my Christian brothers and sisters labor under the belief that homosexuality is a broken, sad, searching thing, I know the reality: it’s a very different expression of love only in that the genders aren’t mixed. Aside from that, the gay men and lesbian women I know want, and if they are lucky, have experienced those same moments of all-encompassing contentment that I did when I my marriage was good.
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