I have a crush on another boy.
There, I said it.
It’s out there, now.
There’s no taking it back.
It’s real, now. It exists. It’s true.
And I can’t change it. I can’t erase how I feel. I can’t act like it doesn’t exist. I can’t pretend I don’t feel a certain way toward him.
I won’t say that I’m right, or that it’s right, or that it’s okay, or that it’s natural, or that it’s normal.
I won’t try to argue for permission to give into my heart. I won’t provide a list of reasons I should be able to love anyone who’s willing to love me. I won’t try to twist the Bible to fit my current yearnings. I won’t tell you that I’m wrong for feeling this way. I won’t admit that it’s just a phase.
I’m not gonna lie.
I have a crush on another boy.
That’s the truth of the matter.
That’s the reality in which I exist.
That’s the yoke I bear.
That’s the hell I’m in.
I won’t lie and say I’m confused. I know how my heart feels. The only confusion here is in trying to figure out how to move forward.
How can I move forward?
How can I bear this?
How can I live a normal life when things like this will constantly happen? How can I get married and expect a stable, healthy relationship when my wife and I would always know that my heart is not solely defined by attraction to one gender? How can I move on when my heart is pulled in the direction of the first boy who smiles at me just right, or takes the time to talk with me? How can I have friendships with guys without thinking that they feel weird around me. How can I break past this?
You may think it’s a complex. You may say I just feel this way because of dysfunctional male relationships in my life. And maybe it’s true. Maybe it stems from a desire for male companionship. Maybe I don’t know what a healthy, intimate, godly relationship with another man looks like. Maybe my past – failed relationships and broken hearts – has wrecked me forever.
Or maybe, I can never have a healthy relationship with a guy because I’m the only “straight, Christian” guy who thinks this way, who desires to be close to other guys, who actually enjoys deep conversation with other guys, who actually enjoys the company of men who actually enjoy my company too. Maybe I’m weird. Maybe I’m the odd man out. Maybe that’s why I’m “confused.” Maybe that’s why I desire “unhealthy” relationships with men.
Or maybe we have it all wrong when we say, “Love is a choice.” Maybe we have it wrong when we tell the “fags” in our Christian communities to simply “abstain” or “ignore” their feelings. Maybe we have it wrong when we try to “pray the gay away.”
I don’t know.
I just don’t know.
I can’t answer any of it. I know in my head that what I feel is wrong, it’s dirty, it’s unclean, it’s perverse. I’m bound, I’m lost, I’m a captive. But my heart still cries, “Can’t love just be love?”
The truth is, I am dirty. I am unclean. I am perverse. I am bound. I am lost. I am a captive.
I am bound by these things. They define me. I am an outcast, untouchable. I am a captive.
I am a captive in need of a Savior.
Did I really think that Jesus’ blood wasn’t enough? Did I really think that He died only to save the clean or even the semi-clean? No.
He came for the dirty, the unclean, the untouchables, the captives. He came for them.
He came for me.
So let me wrestle with this.
Let me wrestle with this idea that my chains have been unbound and all I need to do is cast them aside and run for the hills.
Let me figure this out. Because it doesn’t make sense.
It doesn’t make sense that this love could be wrong. It feels so innocent. It feels so good. It feels so real. It feels so normal. How can something so good be so wrong?
But, then, that was Eve’s question, wasn’t it?
How could this Tree be bad? How could this fruit bring death?
Much like Eve saw the smooth, glimmering skin of the fruit and longed to taste the sweet fruit hidden behind the shell, I see him and I find myself drawn to him. I can’t stop thinking about him; he hides in the back of my mind, unaware that I long to be close to him. I anticipate the moments when he passes me and offers a smile. I hope to catch just a glimpse of him as he works inside his workstation just a few paces away from my own. I am filled with longing, a torment which has become increasingly difficult to ignore.
And maybe it will pass.
But what if I’m meant to live with these feelings for the rest of my life?
I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy quite like him – someone who pays so much attention to me, who seeks me out for conversation, who notices me.
If I’m being honest, I feel somewhat invisible when he’s not around. And maybe that’s weird. Maybe that’s obsessive. Maybe I’m just compensating for the existence of very few deep, male relationships in my life (excluding my father). Maybe I’m compensating for the hurt I experienced at the hands of some of my closest friends. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
But how do I know? How do I know what a healthy male relationship looks like?
How can I know why I feel this way? How can I know why these feelings, this desire, exists inside the pit of my stomach? How can I know why I have to suffer with this?
I know nothing, I realize. I see through a glass darkly. I am blinded, perhaps, by desire, by confusion, by the sweat that pours into my eyes as I continue to climb this mountain.
But I press on. I press on because I have no other choice.
I can’t give in, can I? Down what road would that lead?
I’ll be honest, I’m still trying to cope with my faith and my heart on this one. I’m still wrestling with it. And I hate that I’m wrestling with this. I hate myself for it. I feel like a freak and an outsider, I feel like I have to keep myself secret.
Maybe I’ll have to spend the rest of my life with this burden. Maybe it’ll go away. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I’m spiraling out-of-control with the first situation that exists outside the realm of my control.
I don’t know.
My head knows what I need. My heart knows what it wants. My soul cries for release from the burden of choice.
I guess this is what Jesus meant when He said, “Deny yourself.”
I’m just thankful I serve a God who can empathize with me. (Hebrews 2:18, 4:15)
I don’t know if I can handle this. All I know is that I’m going to try.
I’m no longer a slave. So I’m going to stop acting like it.