Sunday, 1 January 2017

Drift Apart

It’s happened!

I had someone drop out of the wedding because they think I’m a big gay sinner.

Invites were sent out 6 months ago, and it has taken this person until 10 weeks before the wedding to phone me and give me a lecture on religion.

Here are the highlights of that conversation:

  • We haven’t spoken in a long time.
  • Hope you’re well
  • Christmas is a busy time, isn’t it?
  • I want you to know Jesus
  • Your relationship isn’t real or valid
  • You should ask forgiveness from God
  • How you live is a universal sin
  • I’ll still come to the wedding if you want me to


I calmly told her that if she didn’t support my relationship and didn’t want to be happy for me in any shape or form, maybe her non-attendance would be best for everyone involved.

After I hung up, I felt oddly calm.

I felt very logical about the whole thing. She’d made it clear she wasn’t a supportive friend…or really any kind of friend, and so not having her at the wedding, or in my life from this point on, was a good thing.


And my life continued on.

The fiancée was shocked at how calm I was and how unaffected I seemed that a friend of 15 years had essentially cut all ties with me. But I felt oddly normal, and just went to work the next day.

But as time went on, I couldn’t help but shake a gloomy sinful cloud that was following me about. And it took me about a week to realise that actually… I was hurt.

What my “friend” said…had hurt me.

And it wasn’t as simple as brushing her comments aside like how everyone in the LGBT community learns  to do when strangers shout insults or stare or give filthy looks. This was someone who I’d known for a long time. A childhood friend. Someone who I’d come out to and she had been supportive. Someone who had met my fiancée, smiled, and been pleasant.

And apparently that’s not something you can sweep under the rug.

Who knew?

Now I’m not being closed-minded here. I fully get that some of my many Christian friends may not be thrilled with the idea of my being in love with another woman. But they put my happiness and our friendship above the rules of a religion that I no longer subscribe to. A religion that teaches love, acceptance, understanding and compassion.

So I thought about how to deal with the hurt. Send her poop in the post? (Yes, that is a thing) An honest letter saying how she’d hurt me? A glitterbomb?

Eventually I decided something positive should come from a shitty situation. 
 (Very mature. Go me.)

So I donated what it would have cost to have her at the wedding to a good cause.

To Stonewall.
…in her name.

And after making the donation (along with a long chat with an excellent friend who reminded me of my 18th birthday when my “friend” had sex on my lounge floor while the rest of us were trying to sleep in the same room and how “Christian” she was then.)

…I felt better.

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