Monday, November 5, 2012

The Closest Thing to a Political Post You'll Ever See From Me

I met a friend for lunch yesterday.  By lunch I mean we had bloody mary's.  And by we I mean me.  He doesn't drink.  So I had one for him too.  Didn't want him to feel left out. 

Oddly enough, I ran into E1 there.  Remember him?  It went a little something like this:

I got up to get my second bloody mary.  In typical fashion, I was staring at my feet on my way back to our booth.  I happened to look up and noticed, sitting in the booth right next to ours, was E1.

E1: "Hi Dawn."

Me: Wide eyed deer in headlights panic stricken response of "Hi". 

I don't like to come across as overly verbose.  It tends to overwhelm people. 

I stare at him for a second.

I turn and stare at his date for an equal second. 

I turn my entire body in a stiff robotic way and continue on to my booth where I sit down and mentally chastise myself for not coming up with something witty, intelligent or at the very least, socially acceptable to say.

I felt like the bottom of my stomach had dropped out.  A few minutes later they both got up and left the bar.  Without saying goodbye!  Some people have absolutely no sense of couth.

Anyhow E1, congrats on your downgrade.  She's one hell of a 5.

How weird.  Insulting someone who will never read this post doesn't really make me feel any better.  *shrug*

Moving on.  This post isn't about my pathetic insecurities.  It's about others pathetic insecurities.

With the last day of the election coming up, my friend and I inevitably started discussing politics and what people stand for, believe in, and believe what is worth fighting for.

My friend is gay.   

I believe in the usual run-of-the-mill Christian beliefs.  I don't understand being gay.  And although someone called me a "fat dyke" from the window of a passing car the other day, I can't really say I've been persecuted for who I am.  Ever.

My friend has not only been persecuted for it, he's been assaulted.  As in, attacked outside of a club in downtown Salt Lake and beaten over the head with chunks of asphalt. 

As he was showing me the pictures of his bloody scalp and stitches, I couldn't keep my eyes from welling up and chills ran up and down my body creating goose bumps all over my arms. 

I don't understand being gay.  I don't know if people are born gay or if it's a lifestyle choice they make.  Either way, it's who they are, and for them to be attacked out of blind, ignorant hate, is unfathomable.  This sort of hate scares the mother hugging crap out of me.  This is the sort of illogical, unthinking hate that would have someone burning me to death simply because I have red hair.  Oh.  Wait.  That's been done.  Luckily our civilization has advanced well beyond those barbaric days.  Thank God.

I don't understand being gay but I understand that he is my friend and I love him dearly and will defend his right to love who he chooses.