Guys

This post has been stewing in my head for more than a week now, so let's see if it comes out more than half-baked.

It all started when I was asked to read Guys Write For Guys Read for work. I was asked to review it for nomination in Utah's Beehive Awards because I read young adult literature and because I am one of the few guys who work at the library. My first thought was that I'm not exactly the best judge of what Guys will think of any particular book, because I am not a Normal Guy. But then I realized that that was the old Master Fob speaking, not the new-and-improved Master Fob.

See, I've spent much of my life intimidated by men. The use of the present perfect "I've spent" there could indicate that I am referring to the recent past, or it could also indicate that the action or state I'm referring to still holds true. Which it does, to some extent, but not as much as it used to. At some point during the last year or two, I've learned that I have no reason to be intimidated by men.

It may have something to do with the elders quorum I've been in. I realized recently that this is the first elders quorum I've ever been in where I've felt comfortable. Part of that comes from being in a position--as a counselor in the EQ presidency--where I was forced to interact with the other men in the quorum and find out that they are not as big and scary as I might have thought. Part of it comes from getting to know the EQ president, who is very open about his self-doubt and fears, which are not too different from my own. And part of it comes from choosing to teach lessons on uncomfortable topics like emotional intimacy and sexual addiction, then seeing the other men in the quorum open up and really talk.

It also may have something to do with the therapy group I was in early last year, composed of fifteen straight guys and me. I told them about my same-sex attraction in the second or third meeting of the group, and they seemed to respect me not in spite of it but because of it; and eventually, I think, regardless of it. As the group progressed and we grew closer, the other guys actually looked to me as some sort of leader, the guy who had all the answers. I didn't, but it was nice to see how highly they thought of me.

It may have something to do with the amazing male friends I have. Like Th., who on more than one occasion has broken his rule about emotional exhibitionism in order to make me not feel like a dork for dumping my emotions on him. Or Freelancer, who recognizes that random, unprovoked kisses from his daughter are "the sweetest gift ever." Or Svoid (I can still count him as a friend even though he's my brother), who flies to Milwaukee to bring his girlfriend flowers, then quotes Dostoevsky when he blogs about it. Or Edgy, who is not ashamed of his strange addictions. Or Tolkien Boy, that manliest of men, who admits that even he is intimidated by the "healthy tans and visible abdominals" of the men in the BYU gym showers (I might add, by the way, that I am the man who is most frequently in those showers when he is--I'd be intimidated too, if I had to shower next to me).

Last year I had the opportunity to get to know a guy who I found particularly intimidating. He'd always seemed so sure of himself, so strong, so stereotypically male. I'd always felt inferior and incompetent around him. Once I got to know him, though, I realized that he worked so hard to exude confidence precisely because that's the one thing he lacks. It had never occurred to me that he cared one bit what people thought of him, but as it turns out he's one of the most insecure people I know. But then, the fact that I need to see others' insecurities in order to feel comfortable around them speaks tons about my own insecurity.

My point in all this rambling is that I'm learning that, when it comes to guys, it's not me and them. It's us. I may not be your stereotypical man, but who is? I don't know what makes men men--perhaps it's nothing more than that Y chromosome (and, you know, the other obvious things that go with it)--but whatever it is, I'm not scared of it anymore.

Zero-gravity bunnies, on the other hand, terrify me.