Homeboy, you never shut up.
--Run DMC
Every so often, I begin telling a story that I believe will be interesting and entertaining to my readers -- a twisted, turbulent tale that will conclude with some meaningful, satisfying take-away. But once the story gets underway, it becomes rambling and veers off track, and I find myself at a loss as to how to end it.
This is one of those times.
I'm sorry. I honestly don't know what the point of all this was, and I fear there will be no "ta-da!" moment when you reach the end. Also, my memory of these events is proving to be unusually spotty. For instance, I know Jane was a big pain in the ass, but I can't remember many specific examples to illustrate this. I think perhaps my coming out -- to myself and others -- was so monumental that it overshadows all the events that immediately preceded it.
In any case, if you've traveled this far with me, I feel I owe it to you to at least try and tie it all up in a neat little bow. If nothing else, I do have a cute little anecdote -- courtesy of my big brother, Steve -- to serve as a kind of punchline to this whole mess.
But first, a correction. Moments ago, Colin Scantlebury messaged me the following with regard to my last chapter:
Again, I loved it. I howled at it. I have a few facts for you though:
I am not a Republican Protestant, nor have I ever been! I am a practicing Catholic and a registered Independent (who has yet to vote for a Republican president, btw).
So there you go, and I apologize to Colin for the misrepresentation. This makes me love you even more.
OK, on we go. Apologies again for the lack of clear narrative.
Eventually, Mike P.'s behavior became so obnoxious -- the shit on the cook's car being the proverbial icing on the cake -- that an official campaign was launched to de-activate him from the fraternity. This was highly unusual and a very big deal. The lodge elders called a meeting at which Mike P. was present where we all discussed in depth his misdeeds, arguing for and against his expulsion. At the end of the meeting, a vote was taken.
As luck would have it, I was the only neophyte eligible to vote. Actually, it wasn't luck; it was the fact that I was an anal-retentive little goody-goody who studied diligently for my Chi Psi history exam and was the first and only neophyte to have passed it in time. (As part of the exam, we had to memorize the Greek alphabet. I'm sad to say that all I remember now is Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon... and that's it.)
The meeting was emotionally wrenching. Men wept. Not Mike P.; I don't think he was capable of human emotion. But some of his supporters cried openly. Tempers flared. Personal attacks were lobbed.
As for me, I stood up and gave a little speech that I had prepared, explaining my vote to expel. My recollection is that the writing was first-rate, but the delivery was crap. I was nervous as fuck and stared at the ground while mumbling my words. It turns out it's not easy to tell someone to his face that you want him to disappear, especially with an audience of peers watching.
I remember the last two lines verbatim:
Throughout my time pledging Chi Psi, I never knew where I stood with Mike Putridio. At the very least, now he knows where he stands with me.
Ooooh! Burn!
Whatever. The vote was overwhelmingly in favor of keeping him in the fraternity. So the only real result of my speech was that Mike P. hated me even more than he had before, making things between Jane and me all the more fraught. Actually, the vote to boot him did seem to have something of a neutering effect. There were no further major incidents involving him that I recall.
Another emotional meeting that sticks with me now happened during my last semester as a Chi Psi. It was during the rush process. One of the rushees that semester was the younger brother of Chi Psi's president at the time, a hard-headed guy named Bill. The younger brother was a little blond twink named Michael. To avoid confusion with Michael P., I'll call the little brother Mikey.
For some reason, Mikey rubbed just about all the brothers the wrong way. It was an unwritten law that if you were a legacy, you were a shoe-in, especially if your brother was the current president. Not so with Mikey. People just couldn't stand him. "This kid's a major tool," was the oft-repeated refrain. I didn't feel that strongly about him one way or the other, but he seemed nice enough, in addition to being a kindred spirit (i.e. flaming).
Bill held his tongue while the other brothers expressed their unwillingness to consider Mikey. I was one of the few, it should be mentioned, who spoke in his favor. It should also be mentioned that during the course of the rush meeting, I consumed an entire bottle of white wine. I mean one of those big-ass 1.5 liter bottles. My tolerance to alcohol was probably somewhat higher in those days than it is now, but that's a helluva lot of booze in any case.
Finally, Bill got up to speak on his brother's behalf. He gave an impassioned and deeply personal speech about he and Mikey's relationship with one another, and how much it meant to Mikey to become a Chi Psi. And at some point in the speech, much to the surprise of my fraternity brothers and myself, I began to sob. Not cry -- sob. A loud, ugly, painful, primal sob that went on and on. Everyone, including Bill, glanced nervously at me, wondering when this mentally unstable woman was going to quit her caterwauling.
Actual photo of me from that night.
To this day, I have no idea what moved me so, other than the wine. I'm sure I was crying for all sorts of things that had nothing to do with Mikey. But whatever the case, my tears in combination with Bill's speech did the trick, and Mikey was voted in by a tiny margin. When we delivered the news to him, he immediately informed me he wanted me as his big brother as soon as he became a neophyte.
That never happened. A couple of months into his pledge period, Mikey announced that he was dropping out of Michigan to become a fashion designer and was thus de-pledging from Chi Psi. I have no idea what became of him.
OK, let's try to wrap up the Jane thing.
Jane and I basically played our respective roles as the perfect fraternity-sorority couple. We never went as far as getting pinned or lavaliered (yes, people actually still do this), but we did accompany each other to all major events. I also accompanied her -- along with most of her Alpha Chi Omega sisters -- on a week-long spring break in Cancun.
Here's what I remember from that trip:
1) We had no refrigerator in the room, so we kept our drinks on ice in the bidet.
2) Jane's best friend and her boyfriend shared the room with us. Her boyfriend looked like a young Matthew Morrison. I lusted after him non-stop.
3) It was virtually impossible to get Jane out of bed each morning, what with the combination of hypoglycemia, irregular eating and heavy drinking. So I spent nearly every breakfast as the other couple's third wheel. Which was fine with me.
4) I smuggled a cheap bottle of vodka out of Mexico, and it broke in my suitcase, soaking everything.
5) Cancun was where Jane and I had intercourse for the first time, in between her comas. It was nothing to write home about for either one of us, I'm quite certain.
So not my type now, but at the time... woof!
We broke up shortly afterwards. I don't recall the details, but I know it was I who broke up with her. And that I never told her I was gay. Which I sort of regret.
Once single, and having finally admitted to myself that I was a big ol' fruit (and after having bumped into Will at the gay bar in Saugatuck,) I realized it didn't make much sense for me to stay in Chi Psi. My social life had changed dramatically. I was now spending every Friday night at Ann Arbor's one and only gay dance club, the Nectarine Ballroom, where "DJ Roger" spun the latest hits from five years prior, and one could buy a well drink for a quarter until 10PM. And since I didn't actually live in the lodge and was no longer attending most of the parties, I couldn't justify paying the monthly dues.
So I simply de-activated, giving a little farewell speech at one of our monthly meetings. There was only one thing left to do: Come out to the two people responsible for my joining Chi Psi in the first place, Jules and Steve.
Here's how Steve remembers it:
You and Will knocked on the suite door essentially right after your Sawgituck (sp?) visit, and we told you it was alright to come in (despite being undressed under the covers). You both came in, sat down in separate chairs, closed the door, and told us you had something serious to discuss.
"That's fine, go ahead."
"No, it's REALLY serious." (I can't remember if it was you or Will who said this line.)
Loooooooong pause. Excruciating uncomfortableness. In those ten seconds, it was clear to EVERYONE that it was EXACTLY what you were going to tell us, and then all four of us started laughing. You both eventually told us the story of running into each other on the west side of the state and, yes, you had come out. It was one of those few moments that I've gotten to enjoy someone else inserting his/her foot in his/her mouth.
Incredibly, I don't remember this episode at all. But it seems crazy to me now that Will and I would have decided to come out to them simultaneously. A double-outing! And by two guys to whom they were both very close! It must have been incredibly surreal for Steve and Jules, but they handled it with uncommon grace and kindness. When I told Colin, a short time later, he also took the news with total acceptance and great humor.
I cannot overstate the magnitude of magnanimity and open-mindedness exhibited by these folks -- and the select few others to whom I came out at that time. You have to remember that this was 1992, an entirely different era in LGBT history. There were no gay television characters, and the only gay celebrities we knew about were the ones who had died of AIDS (and Elton John). And while the University of Michigan may have had a progressive tradition, it was still in the Midwest. I can promise you not too many Michigan frat guys would have dealt with my news the way Steve, Jules and Colin did.
I made a lot of mistakes during my time in Chi Psi, but choosing these people as my closest friends wasn't one of them.
I guess that's my "ta-da!" moment.
Homo de-activated. ♥
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