After talking it over a lot with family and friends over the course of last week, I decided against hanging a replacement rainbow flag in my window. One of the main reasons for hanging the first one was to test the neighborhood in which I live, and the results of that experiment are definitely in. So one of my main reasons for hanging a new one would be as an act of defiance, a pacifistic sort of revenge. And I don't really believe in the nobility of that sort of sentiment after I've calmed down sufficiently.

The other ostensible reason for hanging a flag would be to send a message to people. The problem with that idea is that since the medium is so detached from my person, the content of the message is too far out of my control and more likely to negate the ideas and feelings I'd want to convey than affirm them. So I'll go back to continuing the methods I've been practicing. Saying more by speaking less and letting my actions and demeanor speak for themselves. Forcing people to think and feel about a three dimensional human being rather than two dimensional stereotypes or one dimensional symbols.

So, I had a lovely set of shabbos meals with Dionne and Chaim and their little toddler Itamar. And after Shabbos, I told Chaim that I'm gay when he called me on the phone: I finally had enough of him trying to set me up with girls. Which brings me to the topic of this rant: reactions to coming out of the closet. Or, rather, apparent lack thereof. I know, everyone wants to be the good supportive friend and no one wants to come off as a bigot, but really, I don't mind if you are at least a teensy bit flustered or something. Just take a second to say, "oh." Acknowledge the fact that I just said something kinda significant. Don't pretend that you're totally unsurprised when you were quite obviously working under the assumption that I was straight. It really is nicer for me that way.

You see, coming out to someone is always at least a little emotionally charged, because you can almost never be sure how the person on the receiving end of the news will react. A little part of me is bracing for the potential display of emotional fireworks. And when you manage to look totally unfazed by the words "I'm gay", that little part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's thinking, "did you not hear me or something?" And it can't quite stop bracing itself. Plus, my perverse side is just plain disappointed by the lack of entertainment that would have been provided by a dramatic reaction.

I mean, it's not like I don't long for the day when a varying sexual orientation is no more stigmatized than an unusual ice cream preference. But let's not pretend we're there yet.

I just stumbled on this really great article. Relevant excerpt:

"Then it hit me. All my gay male friends were out. Becoming close with gay men meant hearing their stories of coming out. That’s because coming out is a cathartic milestone in any out person’s life, and usually came after years of self-reproach, denial, and repression. Coming out meant finally forgiving themselves for being who they were and feeling how they felt. They tried denial, avoidance, hetero sex and guilt, then finally accepted themselves as themselves. Only when they let go of the blame and guilt could they love themselves. Despite familial and social anathema, they trusted themselves and refused to pretend to be something they were not. It was freeing to be one’s self. How simple, yet seemingly rare."

This past week marked the first anniversary of my coming out as gay (by the reckoning of the Hebrew calendar, that is). I celebrated on Tuesday by taking a really long, enjoyable hike, and maybe I'll write about it a bit later. I'd just like to take the opportunity to look back and take stock of how good this past year has been for me. It's felt like the process of recovering from a long bitter illness. After the fever finally breaks, it takes a little while before you're strong enough to get up out of bed and roaming around, and there's still a period after that in which you're still gaining back your original strength. And after that, you can even learn how to live more healthfully than ever before.

With a charming bit of synchronicity, I stumbled upon the perfect quote to commemorate this occasion: "The isolation and secrecy were harder to bear than the malady itself." I found this in an article that was quite unrelated to the topic, but it struck me as a fitting way to describe my past life.

So on that note, I'll point out a few other articles by Jonathan Rauch that I read this past weekend that I found a lot more interesting. I'll start with "Gay Marriage 5: It's Good for Kids", which sums up what I think is the best case for gay marriage I've encountered so far. Dad, I'd like if you'd print that out for Mom to read, as I'd like to hear her sound off her opinion on the topic. I'll recommend "Will Frankenfood Save the Planet?" for Jonathan to read to inspire him in his studies, and for Rebecca to read to maybe balance out her opinions on genetically modified foods a little more. And finally, "Caring for Your Introvert" is good advice for anyone who wants to deal with me.

My second date with Itai was deliciously comfortable. So much so that the first date seems practically wooden in comparison. We met at 3pm at Yaffo Gate of the Old City of Jerusalem. From there, I led the way to a little nook with flower-covered walls in the ruins on the way to the Kotel. On the way, I began a patchwork presentation of my life story. When we got to our destination, I continued talking while drawing a little picnic feastala from my backpack. We munched and chatted until the descending afternoon shadows caused the cold to creep up on us.

After repacking the food, we carried the conversation all the way to Seth's restaurant, since he had invited us to come over while he was still working so that he could treat us to dessert. I quite enjoyed introducing Seth and Itai to each other, letting Itai get a taste of the unique Pearson family dynamic. There was no shortage of interesting facts for us to exchange while we munched on french fries and the crunchy confection Seth sent us. (Pears poached in wine sauce, surrounding a scoop of sorbet, all atop a thick slab of granola cookie, for those of you keeping culinary score at home.) Seth kept dropping in and out until it was time for him to quit for the day, at which point the three of us walked most of the way back to Seth's apartment.

Itai and I took our leave from Seth before he got all the way home, and wended our way to Tmol Shilshom, seeing as we'd both enjoyed the atmosphere so much the last time. Obligatory joshing of me regarding tiramisu overdose ensued, and we shared a chocolate mousse. While we ate and talked and sipped our hot drinks, we were both amused by the boistrous antics of the adorable daughter of the family sitting at the table next to us. She had the most ridiculous eye-glasses: round coke-bottle lenses with gaudy pinkish-greenish plastic frames. It seemed like an appropriate background as Itai and I discussed the possibilities for children of our own, a topic that's obviously a favorite for both of us.

As the clock slid past nine, we gradually left the cafe and headed back to Seth's apartment so that I could pack up for my trip back to Tzfat. But before we did that, we stopped by briefly at Rachel's apartment to say good-bye to her and Seth. Not too long after that, we were on our way, strolling to the bus station where we would each take our separate ways home. My bus wouldn't arrive until at least 11pm, so we lingered happily together at the bus stop in the cool night air, exploring ever more wild and wonderful avenues of conversation. Suddenly, some young men who were also waiting for the bus to Tzfat broke out dancing and singing "Od Yishama." I grabbed Itai's arm and pulled ourselves into the little circle, asking the dancer to my right who was getting married. I wished a mazel tov to the young groom after he was pointed out, and after the singing circle broke up, I did not miss the bemused expression that had overtaken my date's face. I can tell that I'm going to have a lot of fun introducing him to a more intimate look at traditional Orthodox culture than he's been privvy to before. Late though the bus was, we were still reluctant to part. Our farewell took the form of a long, firm, warm hug with kisses on the cheeks. As I gazed at the moonlit landscape outside my bus window, the trees and rocks were filled with an uncanny richness of shape and color.

Now I have to endure a wait until Wednesday night before I get to see Itai again. The plan is that I will go to visit him at his apartment in Tel Aviv, and we'll move on afterward to spend Shabbos together in Tzfat.