I am an outgoing person and able to put myself out there. With moving so much in the past few years, I have learned to take leaps of faith and try to meet new people.
Speaking of faith, I recently joined a great traditional faith community here in San Diego that also happens to have an LGBT group. Their next involvement was a potluck, so I signed up.
So, there I was. Walking up to host's apartment door with my slightly burnt Paleo Coconut Chicken, nervous and excited. My goal was to at least make some friends with the same desire to go out and party, affinity for fitness and being a beach stud, and of course attraction to men, all the while sharing the same moral code and faith. Did a part of me hope to meet my future husband, having a storybook wedding in the church we meet through? Of course.
Scene: Me. 26 years old. Holding my chicken. In a group of 25 other people. Next youngest person... easily in their 50's. No exaggeration.
It was my first time having a conversation with two gay men involving their recent hip replacements and how long the recovery process takes. I couldn't tell if they should be my friend or father figures.
Did I meet my future husband? No.
Did I figure out finally what causes older people to have that smell? No.
Did I meet some nice people though and accept the potluck for what it was? Yes.
I guess its back to the Grind(r).....
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