e-Mail from the Moon

When I was growing up, I wanted so badly to become an astronaut and go to space. I kind of outgrew that idea. There is still however some part of me, hidden in the background that believes that there is more to this universe/galaxy than we think (not meaning in the spiritual sense or anything) and definitely more than we know now.

I have this idea that God really must have some other planet prepared for us when we are done ruining and also overpopulating this one we live on now. And here, I am not in any way advocating irresponsible environmental and earth threatening activities. However, I find it very unlikely that the earth is the only hospitable planet. There is that statistician in me that says that one little spot cannot just suddenly have ideal conditions and nowhere else. I am imagining the earth being at the peak of some bell curve like situation. Which means that admittedly the extremes exist at the ends. We all know mercury and Pluto (Oh poor Pluto, no longer considered a planet) exist. So there must be some other close to ideals close to the earth. You think?

So why am I thinking about these issues? One of my friends just applied for a job to be an astronaut for a North American country’s space agency. He is still in the very early stages of the application process, and there is a 1 in 2500 chance of his getting the job. But still, it is really easy get into the excitement of the moment, to hope that he could possibly get the job and maybe someday get to visit the moon. I made him promise to send me an e-mail from the moon, someday, if he gets to go.

So, here’s to all of us keeping our fingers (and toes) crossed for my friend getting the job so he can go to the moon, so that I can get an email from the moon. According to his roommate, he would probably be the first homicide in space. As she puts it, “can you imagine spending months in an enclosed space with “J”?” And so let’s also try to keep the haters in check as well.

But I love Bok Choy

A few days ago, some friends and I were talking about the HRC’s Equality Index. In the latest survey taken in 2007, some of the more popular stores had these scores: Federated Department Stores (this includes Macy, Bloomingdales, etc) (100%), Sears/Kmart (100%), Target Corporation (80%), and Wal-Mart (40%). For me, Wal-Mart’s scores were the most surprising. Considering all the accounts of their use of child labour, illegal immigrants and their predatory measures against smaller mom and pop grocery stores, I expected them to be rated lower. I don’t really know too well the details of this survey so I can’t comment more on what went into these figures. Meijer, a grocery store that most of us in the discussion use scored 0%. One of the guys in the group who feels really strongly about this issue was encouraging (read: pushing) all of us to try to use alternate sources.

Personally, I prefer to shop at Meijer. Being the vegetarian and fruitarian that I am, on a weekly basis, I mostly buy fruit and produce. For these purposes, I find that Meijer is the best option. Wal-Mart may be cheaper but their fruit and produce department is horrible (not so for Sam’s Club which is the Wal-Mart bulk store, can’t explain why). Plus, I have bigger issues with Wal-Mart way beyond their HRC Equality index.

Anyway, this HRC advocate was recommending ALDI, which is a small little known discount supermarket (yes, it is exactly what it sounds like). ALDI, however being what it is, doesn’t have too much variety going for it. As one friend put it, “they don’t have Bok Choy.” This statement was hilarious to me for a lot of reasons, especially after we had established that this friend never really eats fruits and veggies, and produce in general but particularly not Bok Choy. But as he clarified, “I like having the option to not have it.”

It is the same way with a lot of things in life though. There are some things that we definitely do not want. There are things we would throw away if given them, but we still want to be offered these things, if only so we can refuse them. Like me being disappointed that my gay friends decided to only throw their boa to the single males at their wedding. I have been to numerous weddings where I have refused to stand to catch the bouquet. But at least it was my choice not to. Or being disappointed that some unappealing, unattractive guy isn't interested in me. I know I would turn him down. But I do mind that he didn't ask me in the first place. Or other such crazy things.

Hmm, I really don’t know where I was going with that story. Maybe I simply want to give you the option to not read this posting. :-)

The Big Fat Gay Quaker Wedding IV

I am still recounting my adventures during my friends’ Big Fat Gay Quaker Wedding. In part one, I talked about events leading to the wedding day. In part two, I share random bits about setting up and tearing down. In part 3, I talk about the actual ceremony and the reception and finally, here I will share some general reflections on the entire weekend.

Reflections on the weekend

Quaker Weddings If I get married someday, and I have to have a wedding, I want a Quaker wedding. I am not a Quaker, although I do agree with and respect all of the important tenets Quakers hold. Truthfully, at this point, if I could have a Quaker meeting that was more programmed (i.e. there was more beside the hour of silent worship with interspersed revelations (?) from people during their weekly meetings), I would probably be a Quaker. I love the idea of the weekly hour of silence. In a world of too busy (for nothing) people, I can well appreciate the need to stop, and be silent, and simply be, to think/reflect or commune with the spirit or a higher being (which ever one it is you believe in). I do however still like (and need) that aspect of worship that involves singing hymns and songs (and clapping and dancing) with other believers, and having the opportunity to hear someone share on some topic/scripture (even if I don’t always (usually) agree with everything they say). But I still wish I could have a Quaker wedding. Because this wedding was simply the most personal, and inclusive (in a lot of ways) and heart warming experience I have ever had at a wedding.

Community To corrupt an old saying, “It takes an entire community to pull off a great wedding.” I know very well that this wedding was such a remarkable success because of all the people who came together to pull it through. Every so often, I get really frustrated with people, and friends, and family and relationships in general. In these times, I have often wondered (aloud sometimes) what life would be without such encumbrances as relationships and people. In such times, I have often felt that life would be so much simpler if I lived in it by myself, or at least I didn’t have any personal connections with anyone else. But this weekend, I saw people come together. I worked with people who are friends and strangers to pull off this wedding. As I strengthened old friendships, and formed new relationships and most importantly when I made wonderful new memories involving these old and new friends, I rethought the importance of relationships. I remembered that all the negatives-arguments and disagreements and bickering do not take away from the strengths of friendships – unwavering support and love and affection and hugs and laughter and even the tears. I really love my friends and wouldn’t give them up for anything.

My Town and Acceptance At different times during this weekend, as I looked around at all the different couples, gay and straight, it struck me that I was in the mist of the biggest most accepting crowd that I have ever been in and would probably be a part of for a long time to come. It was pleasing to me to watch some of the gay couples, who were probably mostly out in their respective hometowns but who were certainly more comfortable and open and content in this environment. It made me proud that this was my town and this is the place I call home.

JEN Society I have found over the course of preparing for this wedding that even the smallest simplest wedding requires too much work and too much time. I really need to start filing the paperwork for the JEN Society. I mean the Just Elope Now Society of people who believe that weddings and the wedding industry are in cahoots to drive me and others of like mind crazy (and broke) and that elopements are so much better (and cooler and more romantic) than the hassle of a wedding. Really. Especially if the elopement is to some place foreign and trendy and not sleazy (my opinion, but I have never been) Las Vegas. Who wants to join me?

Regrets? My only regret throughout this weekend was that I didn’t get to hang out. That I didn’t get an opportunity to sit and talk and get to know all the people who were there. The people who I had not met before, but especially the old friends who had moved away and were only back in town for the weekend. I probably could have made the time to do more of that. But as I mentioned earlier, symptoms of OCD cannot allow me to stop and relax unless everything is going right or it is all over. I guess it just means I have to plan trips to go visit all the people from far away sometime soon.

All in all, this was an spectacular weekend.

THE END.

The Big Fat Gay Quaker Wedding III

I am still recounting my adventures during my friends’ Big Fat Gay Quaker Wedding. In part one, I talked about events leading to the wedding day. In part two, I share random bits about setting up and tearing down. Here I will talk about the actual ceremony and the reception and finally, I will share some general reflections on the entire weekend.

The ceremony

I had never been to a gay wedding and neither had I been to a Quaker wedding and so I was really looking forward to this particular one. I knew there was going to be long moments of silence (from my experience with other Quaker meetings) but that was pretty much all I knew to expect.

In the Quaker meeting place where the ceremony was held, the chairs were placed in a (multi layered) circle with the grooms seated in the front. The ceremony started out by the meeting clerk (yes, even though Quakers don’t have a pastor/priest, they do have someone to drive meetings and such) telling us how everything was going to be done. Then everyone in the room (a little over a hundred I think) introduced themselves and briefly stated how they were connected to the grooms. This activity was important to me for a variety of reasons. First of all, everyone is immediately drawn into the ceremony. They weren’t merely onlookers but participants. Secondly, this wasn’t simply a roomful of strangers but instead people who are connected because of their relationship with the couple. And finally, it was interesting to see what a diverse collection of people were there to support the couple. There were family and friends who had known them since birth, friends they grew up with, college and graduate school friends, colleagues and other friends from all aspects of their lives.

After the introduction, there was about fifteen minutes of silence. Quakers believe in silent worship. During this time, the three year old nephew of one of the grooms ran commentary. This baby is the cutest thing ever. For those of us who are challenged by having to sit still and silent for longer than a minute, he was a much appreciated and amusing distraction, although I am not sure the Quakers present necessarily agreed with me.

And then the grooms stood up and exchanged their vows. This part was particularly poignant for a variety of reasons. Quakers believe that each one of us has direct access to God and so there is no need for a mediator (i.e. pastor/priest). I like very much the idea of a personal God, one that we can go to whenever and say whatever to. They exchanged very simple and traditional vows but what was particularly moving was how heartfelt their words were (from the emotion heard). One of the grooms even sounded choked (?) when he started to speak.

And then there was some more audience participation. There was an opportunity for everyone present to share something with the groom (and the audience?). This was probably my most favourite part of the ceremony. So this activity could go either of two ways: It could be a chance for people to off load a bunch of BS or an opportunity for people to share deeply and sensitively about themselves and the grooms. What happened was that almost everyone there had something important to share. Some advice, or a reading from some place, and most commonly some memory of their interactions with one pf the grooms. How can just two people, having lived such short live have touched so many people in so many important ways? Did I mention that these guys are truly an inspiration? Yes, they really are.

I remember sitting there and thinking that I could maybe find some friends and family to say some sort of cool things about me, and my relationships with them and maybe even share some positive influence I have had on their lives. I would be harder if not impossible to get my work colleagues to do so however. But this many people, from that many areas of my life? Wow!

The most heartfelt moment for me was when a friend of the grooms said something like “I have so many memories with these guys I don’t even know where to start.” And then stopped because he was choked and couldn’t talk any more. To any observers, it probably didn’t mean much. But if I was going to cry at any point during the entire weekend, it probably would have been then. I knew exactly what he was saying and I felt like he couldn’t have said it any better. Knowing this guy and knowing off his relationship with the grooms, I believe I know exactly where he was coming from. And knowing this guy to be one not given to blatant expression of emotions such as he was at that instant made the moment even more moving.

And finally, the grooms shared a handshake (another Quaker thing) and everyone there did the same with the people around them. This was the end of the ceremony and the grooms walked out of the meeting place. The last thing to come though was the signing of the marriage certificate. After the couple signed, Quakers encourage everyone present, even the children to sign it too. I guess the certificate acts as a record of all the witnesses to the occasion. A very interesting concept – having a record of every witness to the event

The reception
After the Quaker ceremony went without any big events. The food was great, I am told. I finally had dinner sometime around midnight, and by then I think I was too tired and hungry not to be impressed by wet saw dust. As usual, the great troupe of amazing volunteers came together to make everything run smoothly, from serving drinks and food, to cleaning glasses (we broke (only) seven in total) and cutlery and plates. I have never had to deal with that many plates and glasses. But I have also never worked with such remarkable, enthusiastic, willing and efficient volunteers. Now I definitely know who I will be inviting if I ever get married. I continued to be humbled at how much everyone was so disposed to help out.

The highlight of the reception for me was the throwing of the boa. Yes, a boa! My friends had decided that they wanted to start some traditions for gay wedding, since there really aren’t any. There wasn’t a bouquet to toss and neither of them was wearing a garter (at least not one they were willing to part with (LOL)). So they came up with tossing a boa. The sister of one of the grooms had left an ugly lime green boa in the back of his car a couple of months earlier. And somehow they decided that a boa was the perfect thing to toss at a gay wedding. Lots of hilarity ensued, especially since the guy who caught the boa was one of the few single straight guys in attendance.

So somehow, with no consultation from the two (sort of single) female wedding planners, the grooms decided that only males were going to be allowed to vie for said boa. You would think that gay guys would be more attuned to issues of gender discrimination. Tsk, tsk. I am still a little miffed, just a little. The fact that I DO NOT want to catch the boa (bouquet, garter, whatever) is entirely beside the point. Like someone famously said, I wanted the option to refuse.

And finally, some reflections on the entire weekend…

The Big Fat Gay Quaker Wedding II

In case you just joined us (us = all 2 million of my faithful readers), I am recounting my adventures during my friends’ Big Fat Gay Quaker Wedding. In part one, I talked about events leading to the wedding day.

Set up / Tear Down

Saturday morning found us up bright and early. The first stop was to pick up flowers at the farmers’ market.

[One of the things that struck me during this whole process was how normal all the sales people we had to work with (from the rings to the reception place to the flower people) were when they realised that there were two grooms. For example, a couple of months ago, when the couple looked at rings, I was pleasantly surprised when the sales people at the different shops didn’t even blink once when they realised that we wanted two rings, for two males, for the same wedding. There were similar responses everywhere as far as I can tell. On the one hand, this response makes me think that the times are changing. That people are way more tolerant and accepting than we want to think. That is a good thing. On the other hand, I am not sure because this reaction could simply be because of the people we were dealing with. People in a generally liberal town. People who make a living working in the wedding industry, people who cannot afford to loose money by being bigoted. I do hope it is the former, but I can’t be sure. Time will tell I guess.]

So, back to Saturday morning: All the knick knacks were collated, flowers picked up and set up at the wedding reception. This was when I first felt a sense of community. We had imagined that with about 8 volunteers in total, we will hopefully be done with set up by 1:00 or 2:00pm. With about 17(?) people in attendance, were done mostly done in about 2 hours. Whew! With everyone so enthusiastic and willing to help, and full of ideas (refer to next paragraph), everything came together and run smoothly.

The only hitch here was what to do with the napkins. How could that cause a problem you would ask? Well let me count how many ways: First, how do we fold them. Apparently, simply rolling the cutlery between them was not acceptable (refer to next paragraph). It had to be folded in a particular way. I will admit that folding the “the fancy” way made for a much better presentation, in the end. But that only worked because we had lots of extra hands that were not needed for other (more important) tasks. Then, how do we present the cutlery with them. And then where do we put the folded napkins and cutlery afterwards. Do you see now how simple napkins could cause problems? Luckily, that glitch was fixed quickly. Thanks to the guys who decided that they were willing to dedicating over an hour to (specially) folding one hundred and forty napkins.

Note to self: Too many gay guys make for complications. First there was the fact that everything had become more complicated and elaborate than I had envisioned. Blame that on the wedding planner (not me) who kept coming up with (good) ideas and a couple who was willing to accept any suggestions, as long as it didn’t involve them doing the extra work. So in came flowers, and votives, and candles and lights and table runners and all sorts of crazy details. And then add the friends who needed napkins to be folded just so and we have more complications than I want.

At the end of the evening, we had to go back and put everything in order. Again, everything went faster than I had expected. Understandably, there was some whining during the tear down activities, and tempers seemed to be on shorter fuses. I mentioned to one of the guys that since we had all justifiably gained whining rights by that time, he should go ahead and whine. And so he did. LOL. By that time that night, most of the volunteers remaining had been going since 8:00am that morning.

The woman at the reception venue commented that she had never seen that many people help out at a wedding. Yep, this is one special couple with a lot of loved ones.

In case you are wondering, there are two more parts to this series.

The Big Fat Gay Quaker Wedding I

The main aim of this posting is to have a record of this event. It may sound narrative and longish, but I want to remember all the little details, so indulge me.

Update: This was supposed to be one blog posting, but apparently, when I start writing, I can’t seem to stop. It looks like I will have to chop up my narrative into smaller pieces. Here I go…

Last Saturday, two of my favourite people got married. These two are really cool people. In the context of marriage, they are the kind that makes you think, “They aren’t already married? What are they waiting for?” They are the kind of couple that seems like they were made to be with each other. The kind that leaves you at peace because they are together. [Trust me, I know. I do know couples that always make me wonder why they are together. The kind that I probably won’t enjoy seeing married because I will always wonder (and worry about) how long they will last. But I digress.]

I have such a long history with these guys. That last statement sounds like more than it is but it was fun to write. Let the speculations begin. :-) Truthfully though, it is simply the fact that between the two of them, they have been a big part in my keeping my sanity in this craziness call graduate school, for multiple reasons (fodder for another posting).

Before the wedding
Lucky me (or not) I got to see this wedding from the very beginning. Yes, I do remember the first day they met, but that’s not what I mean. I mean, I had the privilege of helping to plan this wedding. This is an interesting concept, me helping to plan a wedding. As if planning a gay Quaker wedding was not non-traditional enough, they decided to have an African and an Indian help them plan it. Oh, did I mention that the two wedding planners are probably the most unlikely pair to do this? One of them doesn’t believe in marriage, as an institution, for herself. The other isn’t really sure if she believes in the concept of love. You decide for yourself which planner has which ideas.

What we both agreed on was that we would probably never get to plan another wedding (for reasons previously mentioned), that it would probably be fun and we couldn’t really say no to these guys (amazing as they are). And it turns out we weren’t so bad at this wedding planning thing at all. Like I told the other wedding planner, if this grad school/academia thing doesn’t work out, we should consider going into the wedding planning business together.

Now, I can say that we all (the grooms and then wedding planners) were very naïve about how big planning a wedding is, how much responsibility it would be and how much time it would take. Especially since we are all in graduate school, full time and really don’t have much extra time to spare. For example, it really did take one of the grooms about 8 to 9 hours to iron all the table cloths and me 5 hours to make table runners!!! It really wasn’t so much about the big details though. It wasn’t about where to hold the reception on who was going to do the food or even what went on the menu. It was about things like making a shopping list, the little things. For example, did we need to buy two bottle openers, or were we going to just pull them from our houses? And were we to remember to bring them along to the reception or did we need to make notes? Were we making notes for ourselves or are we going to compile a master notes list? Oh, did I mention that all the four people involved here suffer from varying degrees of OCD and anality (i.e. being anal)? OK, now I have.

When I embarked on this project, I had two very simple “visions.” Can I call them that? First of all, I really wanted everything to be simple. For a variety of reasons: Quakers are strong believers in simplicity, and seeing that the grooms are Quakers, that should do well. And simplicity means less work. I thought. And yes, my suggestion of pizza and soda was vetoed really quickly (and now I can say) very rightly so. Lucky for everyone in attendance.

Secondly, I wanted everyone attending to be able to play a part in bringing everything together. My favourite memories of my family – my sisters and my cousins involve us getting together to put together family reunions or parties or weddings or whatever. I have very fond memories of all of us getting together before the event and planning, and cooking and setting up and cleaning up afterwards. Even little arguments about who wasn’t doing their fair share or who was lazy didn’t seem important in the end. I wanted everyone at this wedding (especially the friends) to have that experience. To be made to feel that they had had a significant part in putting together this great day. Beyond simply attending to actually being “in” the wedding.

So if you got stuck with helping to set up (too early in the morning) or tear down (late into the night), attending to a bar or bussing tables, you can go ahead and blame it all on me. But do remember how many great memories you created from having to wash an unending pile of dishes to lagging planters that weigh tons in and out of a van. Fun times

With all the craziness involved, everything did come together. I must say that by the Friday before the ceremony, I was ready to get it over with. Ready to get through this wedding planning mode and get back to real life (i.e. monotonous, frustrating graduate student living: wake – lab – home - sleep – wake, repeat cycle).

To be continued...

Dear People Not in Graduate School

*This list includes my family, my friends, my enemies (I hope I don’t have too many), my former classmates, my former students, people I go to church with, random people off the street, and everyone else in-between

-Please don’t ask me when I am going to be done. I know how long I have been here. And it does depress me to think about it. And even when you do, please don’t sound like for whatever reason, I like being here so much and I don’t want to leave. Trust me; I am ready to leave this place (specifically grad school). In fact, I have been ready for a while. I am still here because the forces that be (namely results and advisor), are scheming to keep me here. Don’t worry; as soon as I know when, I will be the one to tell you. In the mean time, pray that I do finish what I have to do so that I can get out soon (and I mange to keep my sanity).

-Please don’t ask me what I do. Especially if you don’t speak ____ (insert my field of study). I know I have tried to explain to you. And I really tried hard. But unfortunately, I work in a tiny part of the most obscure area of my field of study. It is a PhD after all, not something real, like say, an MBA. Whenever I try to explain what I do, knowing that you really lack a lot of the vocabulary I could use (no offence to you - and yes, your talks about bonds or hedge funds or credit analysis make my eyes glaze over too), I end up over simplifying. And then I know you go away thinking I do something I really don’t do.
And please, please, please, if you are one of the few people (besides my advisor) who understand what I do, please don’t ask me why I am doing what I am doing or what I want to do with it. I know the responses: my advisor wants me to or we wrote a grant for that or something of the sort is probably not going to satisfy you. I wish I could change the world with my research. Unfortunately at this time, I don’t think it would happen. In the meantime, I can only hope that the other 6 people (ok, maybe a couple of hundred) in my area will care that I did what I do.

-Work and school are the same for me. So when you ask me how work is going and I tell you, I am really also telling you how school is too. Don’t ask me again how school is going. And no, I don’t have a “real” job. Lucky me, I get paid to go to school. But at this point, I would take a real job any day.
And when I complain about always being broke, don’t tell me to get a “real” job. First of all, my visa doesn’t allow me to work. And even if it did, I don’t have the time to. I barely have enough hours in the day as it is. The only appropriate response when I whine about not being able to take that trip I want to take is probably, “It will be OK. Someday soon you will have a real job.” Usually, all I want is the sympathy and the reassurance, and nothing more.

-I am not married. Neither am I getting married anytime soon. In fact, I am not even seeing anyone at the moment. I know, I am also surprised myself that I haven’t found anyone. (p.s. Thanks for your vote of confidence. I love you for that.) Fortunately for me, in my area of expertise, the odds are good but unfortunately, the goods are also odd. The subset of high odds and eligible goods is very small. But that line is really only an excuse. I know that I probably haven’t tried really hard. But what you don’t get is that I don’t really care, that much. Sorry mum, unfortunately, getting married and making babies is low on my list of priories right now. I know; my priorities are pretty screwed up.

Dear people not in grad school, I love you. Without your amazing support, I probably wouldn’t be able to do this. And that is what keeps me from telling you off when you ask me any of the above questions.

Poeple Who Make Me Sad

There are a lot of people in my life who make me happy. I remember a couple of years ago, at the beginning of a new academic year one of these great people mentioned to a new graduate student that the only way to survive grad school is to surround yourself with people who make you happy. I do that. And for the most part, I am happy. I appreciate all these wonderful people in my life. But they are not the topic of this post. I am thinking of the people who make me sad. The people who without trying, intentionally or unintentionally make me sad.

I talked to one such friend a couple of weeks ago. This is a friend from college. I would describe her as a hard working, motivated, ambitious go-getter. She completed college in three years, with high honours and took a great job with one of the biggest financial firms in the country. Within three years she was VP and making close to a quarter of a million dollars. She is someone I greatly respect and admire.

She lives far away from me now and so I never see her any more, I keep in touch by phone. But now every time I talk to her I leave the conversation with a weird feeling. A feeling I can best describe as sadness. There is the fact that I always seem to be the one doing the keeping in touch, she doesn’t always respond to calls or always has to stop talking to do something (more important?). That’s OK really. I understand having a life and being busy. But our conversations always seem to be about why I am still in grad school (yes it has really been five years, and I will probably be here for at least another year), will I ever make enough money (probably never as much as I would if I was doing what she does) and the all important why are you still single/not seeing anyone.

I always leave these conversations feeling really inadequate and insecure. Of course I wish I was done with graduate school. I didn’t plan to spend this long here. You reminding me everyday is not helping me; neither is it going to make me finish any sooner. Do I ever doubt my choice to go into the sciences instead of finance? Sure, I do. At least once a day, and even more on days when stupid reactions are even stupider; even more so knowing that the two of us started out in the same path but went different ways after the first year of college. I will never make as much money but I will probably (I hope) work fewer hours and be happier in a job with less risk. And no, money is not all. As for the relationships, it’s too long a story to talk about right now. Maybe if you were nicer, I would let you read my blog.

I had decided that I am not going to talk to her for a while. It does me no good to. But then she sent me a sweet text message to see how I am doing. And now I am feeling guilty about all my angry thoughts.

Ok, the end.

Public Displays of Affection

I am always weirded (according to MS Word, this is apparently not a word) out by PDA. My friends think I am some kind of prude, because I always roll my eyes or say something when I witness PDA. That’s probably a big chunk of it. But there are a few other legitimate (I believe) reasons.

First of, blame my attitude on the part of the world I come from. The culture/family I grew up in has never been one to show physical affection. Sure, kids hug their parents, and get back rubs and lay in their laps and whatever. But I find that seems to wear off after a few years. Maybe after ten years, or even earlier. Friends, sibling, same sex, opposite sex hold hand in public. It is perfectly accepted. Once it becomes “romantic,” however, then that’s a big No, No. We don’t do that.

I have never seen my parents kiss (thank God for that), or hug, and besides cursory touches, perhaps to guide during a walk or when opening a door, I have never seen any kind of physical affection shown. I always give my parents and siblings hugs when I go home or leave home. I am not sure if it is because that happens when I have been away from a while or will be gone for a while. But that’s about it.

But I have also never been in any doubt of my parents/sibling love and affection for me and for each other. There’s my Dad calling me if I don’t call at the regular time I do ever week or him calling whenever there is any report of any hazard in the US to see if I am OK. There is my Dad staying up to make sure my mum gets home each night before he can go to bed, or my mum calling my dad to make sure he has reached his destination when he is on a trip, or calling to make sure he has eaten when she is away from home. I guess I simply speak a different language. Physical affection is kept in private.

So when it comes to opposite sex couples, this is where my inhibitions come from. On the other hand, for same sex couples, I have different reasons, depending on where we are. On the east coast/north east (i.e. liberal, accepting, tolerant), my attitude is similar to opposite sex couples – Go get a room already! In more conservative regions however, I am usually also worried of what “others” see or would do. As cute as it is (in my head) to see any couple hold hand or kiss (no, I don’t care who you are, full blown make out sessions, should NOT be in public), with same sex couples I always have an added tinge of apprehension. Like, I hope there isn’t a bigot close by. I hope no one will say anything mean to them, I hope some crazy off their meds is not around. Maybe it is my internalized homophobia speaking. I don’t know.

So to all my friends who are couples (which seems to be everyone I know now), when I roll my eyes or make some random comment, it is not really about you. It is indeed about me. And all in my head. Really.

This topic reminds me of my high school’s rule book or whatever you will call. In the list of things you cannot do, students are reminded that “public displays of affection” and “overt displays of intimacy” are frowned upon. I remember as a 15 year old starting high school thinking, “Ewww, and who wants to do that anyway?” Did I mention that I was a late developer? Really late! I never really did get the giggles around boys (or girls either) or figure out why boys are special really. Of course now I can appreciate that concept. But I have no personal experience with the stupid giggly, eye fluttering stuff. I think.

I remember distinctly this friend in high school taking it on them self to teach me to give hugs. Most of the people in my school had either grown up in different cultures (e.g. The Ethiopians were all about kissing every random person on the cheeks to say hello), or had travelled a lot abroad and so were used to hugs and kisses to show affection. “Cousin Selly”, as this friend called me, “we definitely can’t have that,” she said. I do remember how awkward it was for me learning what to do with my arms and such.

The good news is that I turned out to be a really good hugger, if I do say so myself. As it turns out, when it comes to Love Languages, I speak Physical Touch. That is, I tend to show affection to the people I care about by my touch – a hug, a pat on the back, a ruffling of hair, etc. That is what I speak.

On the other hand, that’s not the language I respond to. Random people touching me? Weird! If I know you and I am comfortable with you (and it is really easy to know when I am), go ahead and touch me all you want. Otherwise, stay away. I hear Quality Time. Yes, spending five minutes with me is more important that buying me a diamond ring. Not that anyone is offering to buy me one at the moment. But if they were…

Update/Addendum:

This posting was actually written yesterday afternoon. Later in the evening, I turned on my TV to watch 20-20 on ABC. Coincidentally, they were doing a piece on Gay PDA. A video of the piece can also be seen here. Apparently, it doesn’t matter where you are in the country, most people don’t mind seeing PDA, even the same sex kind. And of course all over the country, from Birmingham AL in the south to Vermont in the north, there are people who are strongly opposed to same sex PDA.

Unfortunately, when some of the people who were strongly opposed to PDA were questioned, it wasn’t very obvious to me whether they were opposed to PDA in general or only to same sex PDA. A few did talk about how “this isn’t what God wants.”