This story was written a few years ago, but the details seem like a lifetime has passed. My journey has brought me to a place of wholeness and healing. Today godly men who live lives of honesty, and authenticity surround me, and I’m grateful for my journey. I’m grateful for Jim.

Men have always played a significant role in my life.  They come in all shapes and sizes, and with varying degrees of ego, bravado, and that hormone that makes them act oddly, testosterone.  Their significance is not in a gallant or heroic way that would cause a young girl to feel safe and protected.  Oh no, the men and boys in my life took my childhood from me in the most horrific way, and as an adult I sold it back to them for a profit.  My thoughts go back to a Thanksgiving Day in 1986, when one such transaction occurred, summoned to the Miami Beach condo of a prominent television sports caster for some holiday cheer.  He broadcasts regularly from the Kentucky Derby. Mint juleps, outlandish hats under the guise of wealthy style, and “My Old Kentucky Home”, remind me of sex for hire, and the loss of my soul in a haze of vodka and cocaine one sorry Thanksgiving many years ago.  By the grace of God, I have been able to transform memories of that exchange into the cranberry dreams and autumn memories of better Thanksgivings, my real self fully present and accounted for.  Self loathing developed at the hands of one particular man, my non protector, my non hero, known to some as dad.  In young adulthood that allowed a twisted view of men, man, and mankind in general.  Extracting money from men for hiring me, gave me a sense of power.  My dual personalities, me and the other me, were perfectly suited for the type of work where some humping mass of flesh and sweat would occupy your body, all the while the real me would disassociate from the disgust, my mind transporting me to an alternate reality, and safety.  These scenes of love for hire would be relived one day many years later in counseling, as a church pastor would tell me that even though the experiences were unpleasant (the greatest understatement ever uttered by a man of God), they mimicked a heterosexual role! What? I left his book-lined office that day, tears welling up, knowing that I loathed men even more, and couldn’t see, didn’t want to see, how God could heal this fracture.  No amount of reparative therapy would take the gayness out of me.

There have always been significant men in my life.  I came out of the closet my freshman year of college, although that phrase would seem to indicate that I was once in the closet, and that’s not accurate either.  I never hid my authentic self, I’ve always known I was gay, the outward declaration a result of the inner knowing.  I was close to two gay men in particular during the college years, perhaps because they didn’t feel threatened by me, or I by them.  My prowess, sports, theirs, fashion and design.  Disco fever encamped around us, and these two daring souls took me shopping for my first dress, complete with a draping cowl neck, and a pair of platform heels, in an attempt to feminize me.  I made no such unnatural demands on them.  Being in a dress and heels,  spinning oh so Donna Summer like under the mirrored disco ball, the soundtrack of Saturday Night Fever pulsing through the dance floor, was as unnatural to me as Dick Butkus in a pink tutu.  Unless there’s something Dick hasn’t told us. One night we prepared to go out clubbing for my virginal Disco dress experience.  After I showered, perfumed, and blew my hair dry, I slipped into the polyester masterpiece of clothing and donned my platform heels with the high ankle straps.  Gazing into the mirror I saw a stranger, and yet deep inside I felt a spark of what must have been the feminine mystique.  Women have always been a fascination, as I feel so “other”.  Women have that thing, those feminine wiles, that allure and seductiveness just underneath a crisp white blouse with the last button left undone, revealing just a hint of that allure.  I never possessed that special something, that feminine thing that I knew other women had.  Perhaps that’s why I always felt lacking, and not as good as.  So winding up a heterosexual call girl, addicted to alcohol and cocaine was the furthest thing I could have imagined.  That’s what self hatred played out through drugs will do to even a nice girl like me.

Men have always played a significant role in my life, friend or foe, both good and bad, but mostly bad. My perceptions of men viewed through the cloudy lens of abuse and wanton behavior.  My abhorrence of all authority figures, particularly male, has made my climb up the corporate ladder stall at the bottom rung.  It’s difficult to climb when your seething anger and resentment simmer just below the surface and the resultant energy you project emasculates even the biggest ego.  Men in the workplace apparently don’t respond to that energy, and don’t know how to handle a woman with gahones bigger than their own.  Certain males, perhaps the result of insecurity, are particularly dismissive towards me, and that is a hot button that can launch me into the stratosphere of rage that makes murder seem like a reasonable alternative.  I’m here, I count, deal with it, now. Don’t marginalize me.  Strategic business thinking somehow never made its way into my corporate toolbox.  Throughout my career, I’ve never been successful at navigating the relationships that can make, or break you.  I’m broken when it comes to dealing with men.  I’m at a loss. Recently having attended an industry trade show in Orlando, I ran into an old boss, a male boss, from sixteen years ago.  The week prior had been a particularly difficult one, with a major conflict arising with my current male boss. You see the developing pattern here don’t you?  Boss/male/conflict.  As I exited the conventional hall to take a coffee break and regroup, I was overwhelmed with the realization that after all these years, I’m still in the same boat.  Seeing my old nemesis, and a plaguing awareness of the brewing conflict back at the office, I was struck with the knowledge that it must be me. I have to deal with this, there has to be a resolution within me, healing within me, to somehow gain a foothold on my path to wholeness.  The only one suffering from all of this business angst is me.  How can I possibly change my feelings and actions toward men after all of the baggage that has accompanied my journey?  Help me God.

The answer to that prayer is evidence of God’s grace and love for me through my friend, Jim.  He is a gift from above, brought into my life several years ago, but only recently has Jim’s impact on me been so measurable.  He possesses a quiet strength and self assurance.  This man knows who he is.  Mature and kind, polite and funny, protective in a way that says you’re special, and I’m here for you.  There is no hint of ego that would shout you’re the weaker sex.  No subservience, just respect, and a cherishing spirit emanating from this man of character. He exudes mutual respect for all.  I’ve never had a door opened for me in such a loving way, in a manner that is so reassuring, and cared for. The company of men usually gives rise to odd feelings of distrust, disregard, and resentment, welling up from my core, waiting to erupt, like Mt. St. Helen’s spewing forth the molten ash of years of pent up disgust.  Jim’s presence causes no such eruptions, but rather a grace and ease that leaves me wanting more, his friendship abundant and overflowing.  I’m grateful for this man.  Did I mention his smarts? Yea, well, his mama didn’t raise no fool, she taught him right, because he landed the greatest gal in all of Buffalo, New York, his Babe.  She is the embodiment of womanhood, beautiful, loving, and giving.  Did I mention they walk on water?  As a team, they’re unstoppable, but that’s another story.

There are good men in this world, and my friendship with Jim bears that fact, and believes that truth.  Through Jim’s life and friendship, God has allowed me to glimpse at how things ought to be.  Men have played a very significant role in my life, and this much I know, Jim is a great man, and he’s my friend. I love you Jimmy.

We are all shaped by the relationships that impact our lives. Who has been a great influence in your life? Please share your comments at the bottom of the blog.  Thanks!