Self Inflicted Nonsense

First Sodom and Gomorra raining brimstone; then Noah and the flood; now strange flesh and same sex marriage, legalized: my, how times have changed, or have they? Don’t misunderstand, I’m neither judging nor condemning; that’s not my work to do. I’m just trying to figure out a way to logically explain this phenomenon to my granddaughter.

The best I could do was resurrect some memories from back in my student days I took-up summer residence in a trendy brownstone studio apartment in the left ventricle of the city and a few blocks from college. The building residents included an assemblage of talented, engaging, entertaining and charming, totally non-threading, but prissy, men. They were interestingly delightful, definite change from the stuff shirt professionals at my day job. Before long this new circle of friends included me in their conversations about the ways of women and other stuff I hardly ever discussed with my own gal pals. Comfortable with my neighbors as well as curious about what goes on in their world I accepted an invitation to ‘parr-ta’ with the boys at the club.

It was a hot humid east coast evening and the place was packed with scantly clad men shimmering with perspiration in the not-so-low club light. One of my companions, a 6 foot, 4 inch tall drink of water wearing daisy-dukes and a short tight t-shirt, a real departure from his usual jeans and cuffed shirts selected our table. Tossing his black pageboy wig he twisted and turned crossing his long legs in some sort of ceremonial gesture apparently attractive to others like him. My other companion, possessor of well toned swimmer’s legs was letting it all hang out in tight khaki shorts and an unbuttoned and sleeve rolled white shirt knotted at the waist. Perching both elbows on the table, he sat with raised palms swaying to the music while gingerly sipping the what-ever-it-was-he-was-drinking through a soda straw, and oblivious to my presence in this over-crowded den of swashbucklers.

Before long our cohort included six more musketeers. While intrigued with their shameless interplay of Romeo roaming from one Julio to another, I was totally bored, that is until I felt the intimidating gaze by a pair of females stopping at our table to give me the once over. Rightfully concluding that I was not “in the life” they wrote me off as a fish out of water, and swan back to their little aquarium at the back of the room. What I had gotten myself into, I thought.

Finally deciding to call it an evening, my “buddies” and I inched our way toward the exit through a rank fog of tobacco smoke mingled with musk. For the first time I noticed a sign posted near the entrance: “This is a gay owned and operated establishment.” Pushing our way to the door, there stood posing against the club’s exposed brick wall, a bare-chested bleached blond Adonis with a gold earring pierced though his right nipple. Suddenly I felt sick: overcome with gut wrenching sinking felling and bucketing knees.

Onto the sidewalk, the hot midnight city air offered a moment of relief where I could clear my head. As we meandered toward home, night riders inched their cars to the curb to solicit. Hanging with this crowd, I was being taken as a prostitute. In the horror of the moment, I didn’t need to be struck by lightening to realize that I had brushed against something both dangerous and unnatural to my experience. What had I gotten myself into indeed! Trust me when I tell you it was not a good feeling. Fortunately there is some measure of safety in numbers, but thankfully God knows and protects His foolish children.

All I can tell my granddaughter is what the Word tell me: “For he that sows to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that sows to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever man sows that shall he also reap.” Galatians 6:7 and the rest of the chapter is a clear warning against Self Inflicted Nonsense. Get it?



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