Time Stops

This story begins with the day I was born. This is not your usual day of birth. On this day, I am 41 years old. I’m in a gay bar in downtown Salt Lake City, Utah. As I stand in the crowd at the bar waiting my turn to order a drink, I feel out of place. ‘I am not in my 20s anymore…or my 30s’, my mind rudely reminds me. Should I even be here? Leo and Mark are ahead of me in line. I just met them earlier this evening, but they treat me as a friend they’ve known for years. Mark looks back and sees me, then yells over the noise, “what drink do you want?!” I try to remember the few drinks I’ve tried, since I just started drinking a few months ago. “I’ll have a Moscow Mule!”, I yell back. He orders and pays for my drink.

Mark hands me the drink and leads me and Leo back to our group. As I leave the bar and enter the dance area, time stops. Remember when I said I was born on this day? This is the exact moment. I am standing in the middle of the dance floor. Spanish pop music blares while people dance like maniacs and sing loudly to the music. As I scan the crowd, I see a girl wearing a tie and a miniskirt. She is singing, more like yelling, the song as she throws her head back and moves her feet wildly. She is with a man who is also wearing a miniskirt and sparkly makeup. He is also yelling between sips of the drink in his hand.

It feels as if my spirit is taking a step away from my body. I hear a whisper in my ear “these are your people. This is where you belong.” If this had happened just over a year ago, I would’ve told you that voice was the Holy Ghost, or the still small voice, like I was taught in the LDS church. But if this was the still small voice, it would’ve told me to throw the drink away and run from this place. But alas, it is not the Holy Ghost, and it is not telling me to run. This voice is my own, telling me to notice the beauty around me. Look at the people who surround me. These are my people. This is where I belong.

This time-stopping thing felt like a long pause, but when I came back to myself, Mark and Leo were still in front of me, leading the way back to our group. As we approached, a girl in a black dress and a guy wearing a Fedora were in the middle of our little circle dancing with a Boa someone had brought. I never thought I’d see a Boa being used in that way. But only having stepped away from the church 8 months earlier, there are a lot of things I never thought I’d see or do. A big one being, drinking alcohol. If only the church leaders could see me now.

Growing up in mainstream Mormonism, I was taught that women were to dress modest, let the men lead, stay at home to nurture and raise the children, be kind, quiet, and submissive. And absolutely NO acting on same sex desires and NO Alcohol! This bar, this crowd, my outfit and all those around me, do not fit into any of these teachings. Talk about culture shock. Standing in this circle with my new friends, I am thankful no one mentions the fact that I cannot keep my jaw from hitting the floor as the girl in the black dress lies on the floor and shakes her mostly bare ass in the air. The dimness of the dance floor hides my beet red face.

Rheanna threw her drunken self at me and I shrieked. I’ve never experienced a woman throwing herself at me. Shrieking was the only thing my body came up with in that moment. I’ve been dreaming, for the past few years, that a woman would want me romantically. I’m new to the Lesbian dating scene. I was a member of the LDS Church for 40 years, where I learned to suppress my attraction to women and marry a man. I did it for God. I suddenly can’t breathe in this space. “Bathroom?”, I say to the girl next to me. “Over there!”, she points to the ceiling. I ignore her directions and head back to the bar area.

I soon find that the bathroom is not, in fact, on the ceiling as the girl said. It’s just around the corner from the bar top. I kindly shove my way through the masses to get to the bathroom. As I approach the line, I find that the bathroom is co-ed. I have never peed in a stall next to a man using a urinal. But here we are. I exit the bathroom stall and wait to use the sink. “Hey Hun, how ya doin?” I look up to see the guy with sparkly makeup and the miniskirt, the one I saw during the time-stopping. “Oh..hey. I’m doing well, how are you?”, I said awkwardly. He smiled and moved from the sink so I could use it. I think he could sense my discomfort at the newness of this whole experience. “I felt a bit lost during my first experience with all of this too. You’ll get the hang of it. I’m happy you’re here, Hun. You belong here,” he said. Then he turned and left the bathroom.

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror and notice that I am still red from black dress girl’s ass in the air. I splash cold water on my cheeks and start to turn from the mirror. “I’m happy you’re here, Hun. You belong here”, those words are still ringing in my head. I belong here. This has been a difficult 8 months, pulling back completely from everything I’d been taught. But I did it for me. I don’t want to feel like I am dying inside anymore. Or running out of Sunday church lessons because the teachings just don’t align with who I am. Talking to church leaders about my “weakness” for women. Hating who I am and apologizing to God for it. No more.

My beautiful, authentic, gay, reflection stares back at me in the mirror. I notice that she is smiling through the tears. At that moment, I feel it. I feel her. She is looking back at me with love in her eyes. She has never said it, but I feel it. I look at her with those same loving eyes and say “I love you.”