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Tex Commando

I'm not angry, just outspoken

Tag Archives: Army days

For all of my adult life, I have been a part of one organization or another that was against homosexuals. Right out of high school, it was the military. A couple of months after I got out of the military, it was the Mormons. After reading a couple of recent posts about the topic, I decided that I’d weigh in on it.

Live and let live. That is my opinion about homosexuality. I have never been close to anyone who was openly gay. I had a great friend in high school who everyone suspected was gay. He hung out with girls. We would talk for hours on end about nothing in particular. He never had a girlfriend that anyone knew about. He never tried to sex me. That last point is actually pretty important because I was an easy lay.

But, even though everyone else claimed that they ‘knew’, I always came back with, “So what if he is?” I never came out and asked him about it. Why should I? It wasn’t any of my business. If he wanted to share that very personal information with me, he would. The point of it all is that I didn’t care either way. He was my friend and that was all that mattered.

I was 17 when I joined the Army. I was surrounded by people who were much older than me and who obviously knew much more than me. My opinions didn’t change, I just learned to keep them to myself. I think I am a pretty reasonable person. I don’t have too many strong opinions. Shit, I don’t really have too many opinions. And the ones I do have are pliable. The truth is, I really don’t care enough about most things to take a stand. And even some things that I do care about, I don’t take a stand on. Most of the time, it’s not worth it. I mean, everyone is entitled to their opinion, even if it is ignorant.

So, when I joined the Mormons, I had already been in the practice of keeping my mouth shut about that subject. It’s in the lessons, it’s in the church magazines, it’s in the pamphlets, it’s even in the Bible! Homosexual is bad. God doesn’t love the gay people. If you do gay things, you’re going to be destroyed. I believed in the church, so I guess that meant that I had to believe that other stuff. I don’t know if I so much believed it as I just let everyone else around me think I did.

A couple of times, I would find myself talking to a very good  Mormon friend who has some homosexual family members. So many times, I would find myself deferring to her because she had family members who were gay. Of course she knew more than me. Of course her opinion was more valid than mine. What did I know?

Bullshit! I know plenty.

I know that it doesn’t matter to me who a person chooses to love. Whether it’s someone of the same sex or opposite sex, what matters is how that person treats other people.

I know that it’s not the end of the world if one of my kids comes to me and tells me that he/she is homosexual. However, I don’t want any of them coming to me telling me that they’re even SEXUAL because they are kids for goodness sake. I’ll tell them to leave the sex for the adults. When they’re adults, then they have my permission to be any kind of sexual they wanna be.

I know that I love my kids and accept them for who they are NO MATTER WHAT! Unless they start eating baby kittens. I might draw the line there, because that’s just wrong!

I believe that people aren’t ‘turned gay’ or that they choose to be gay. They either are or they aren’t.

I believe that people need to get over it! Homosexuality isn’t a new thing. You didn’t hear so much about it because people were afraid. People still are afraid. They are still suffering because it’s acceptable to discriminate and make fun of them. THAT’S NOT OK!! It’s not any more OK to disrespect someone for being homosexual than it is to disrespect them for being black. Or a woman. Or ugly. People can’t help how they were born.

That’s it. I have been starting and stopping this post for the past three days. I’m glad it’s finally done. Now it’s your turn. Tell me what you think.

 

 

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Have you ever had the feeling that your life was a movie?

It’s as if you are going about your daily life as an observer, someone who is both experiencing it and watching it at the same time. Your perception is different. You are able to predict the possible outcomes to events as they are happening all while seeing your entire life flash before you and in a split second you make the most important decision of your life and you know that this is it- there’s no turning back.

That happened to me once. I’ll tell you about it, but first you need some history. I was 19 years old. I just found out I was pregnant by a man who wasn’t my boyfriend. He was transitional. He was the rebound guy. My boyfriend and I had broken up around Thanksgiving. I use the term boyfriend loosely here, because we really weren’t. We were more like fuck buddies. We liked each other, but our relationship was undefined. We just were. Even though we had a quasi-relationship that neither of us claimed was exclusive, we didn’t screw around with other people. We were getting closer. He got scared. He didn’t want to be committed. He wanted to be free to have fun with other chicks. So he dumped me. As much as I was sad and upset by the dumping, I was thankful to him for not playing with my head. He made it clear to me- we were done.

So, I did what any other 19 year old person would do. I found another one. I think this one was waiting to swoop down upon ‘lil ‘ol me. We talked. We had fun. He was good company. He took my mind off of my sadness, and I started enjoying my existence again.  He was 26. He knew better. We’ll call him predator.

About a month after the dumping, my boyfriend decided that he mad a mistake. He loved me and wanted to be with me. He told me -in the middle of an IHOP at about 2am on a Saturday night- that he thought he would be happier to be able to go out and have fun with other people, but doing that only made him realize that he was already happy with me. He wanted to get back together. I was a little pissed at him. We chatted some more, set a tentative date for the next day, and by the end of the next day we were back in each other’s arms where we knew we belonged.

I was up front and honest with predator. It felt bad, but I at least owed him the truth. I was with homie. We carried blissfully on for a month until I found out I was pregnant. I knew who helped me conceive it. It wasn’t homie. So, I told predator.

For whatever reason, I ended up driving predator to his house. I went inside so we could talk about the ‘what now’. Here’s where the movie starts to play.

We are sitting on his floor. He leans in to kiss me. I know that I have two choices. Kiss or turn away. In a flash, I see what would happen in both situations. I almost do it. I almost kiss him. But I know it would get back to boyfriend if I go through with that kiss. And I didn’t really want predator, I wanted boyfriend. It was as if I could hear the audience screaming at me through the movie screen not to do it. They were screaming at me to pick the good guy.

So I turned my head. I left. I went home to my homie.

That was one of the most important days of my life. That is a day that I will remember forever. Sometimes, it plays over and over in my head like a movie scene. Like yesterday, when a FB friend who has the same ‘baby daddy’ was talking about what a shitty dad he is to her son. How he doesn’t call/visit/ support him at all. She tells me all the time how ‘jealous’ of me she is because of my situation (married to an amazing man who loves and supports all of our children, even if one of them isn’t his biological child, but she has always been his in his heart and always will). My homie saw predator for deadbeat that he was is. He didn’t want anything to do with predator. We didn’t want for anything from predator (like child support, emotional support, anyfuckinthing), and predator didn’t ask/demand anything from us (visitation, anyfuckinthing). It was a clean cut.

So there you have it-  a huge, life changing decision that I made when I was a mere teenager that I wouldn’t do differently. I am thankful every day that homie is the one I chose to share my life with. That guy is awesome. Woudn’t you mofos agree?

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Just when I had completely forgotten about him, my youngest little monster had to dig him out of the archives of Netflix. I am talking about Barney the purple motherfuckin’ dinosaur. She clicked on it. Before I could stop myself, I was singing along with the intro song.

Barney is a di-no-saur from our imagi-naaaation, and when he’s tall he’s what we call a dinosaur sen-saaation!

I knew every damned word of that song. I didn’t want to know it. I didn’t want to sing it. I had no control of my actions. It was as if some supernatural force was making me sing Barney songs. Maybe it was Satan.

Needless to say, she’s kinda hooked on Barney now. SHIT! She loves that purple motherfucking dinosaur. That’s all she has talked about for the past two days. Barney and BJ. Ok, so BJ? Really? They named a character on a children’s show BJ?!? I know, I know, this show came out way before anyone really knew what BJ even meant. I mean, I did. But I didn’t have a nickname for it.

I’m torn. There’s nothing wrong with the show. They teach kids to be kind, caring, accepting of differences, socially aware- these are all things that are good. They are a diverse group of kids who have fun singing and dancing and using their imagination. My little monster does those things all the time. Barney is really just an extension of who she is. BUT, he’s annoying. I guess the only real reason I can give against watching it is that the show annoys the hell out of me.

But annoying or not, I must give him props. If it wasn’t for Barney, I might not have made it through my second pregnancy. Barney babysat the oldest kid so I could take precious 24 minute naps. LOJO can attest to the power that purple creature had over my oldest monster.

So, I guess for now it’s OK for the youngest brat to watch Barney. I’ll sing along to the songs, and she will be in awe of her amazing mother who knows all the words. It’ll boost my ego to see her look at me in such amazement because I already KNOW him. Eventually, she’ll forget about him. Then I’ll be off the hook to sing to her before she goes to bed.

I LOVE YOUUUUUU. YOU LOVE MEEEEEEE. WE’RE A HAPPY FA-MI- LEEEEEEEEE. WITH A GREAT BIG HUG AND A KISS FROM ME TO YOU. WON’T YOU SAY YOU LOVE ME TOOOOOO?

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I have had this mug since October 1993. I bought it while I was in the Army at language school. There was a military instructor there who was a jerk. He didn’t know spanish, and I did. He did’t like that the other students in class would ask me questions and not him. I might have behaved like a know-it-all 18 year old. Those details are somewhat fuzzy. But I do remember vividly that he told me that I had an attitude problem. See, in the military, one of the worst things they can say about you is that you have an attitude problem. As if that alone sets you up to do all the ‘bad’ things in the military like, get fat, fail the PT test, fail training, and get a courts martial.

So, I did what any self-respecting PFC would do. I bought a mug to embrace my attitude problem. From that day on, that mug sat on my desk facing the instructor. I’d drink my steaming hot coffee from the mug ever so slowly whenever he’d come into our class. I was a little shit back then.

Now, when I pour my coffee into that well-used mug, I look at the marks in the mug and I think about all I that has happened over the past 17 years. There are rings and marks in the mug like the rings in the trunk of an old tree. I like to think that each one represents events in my life that have helped shape who I am today. There are some silly little marks that represent the stupid men I have been with. There’s the big one where I found out I was pregnant with my first child, a little more than a year after I got the  mug. Right next to it is the mark that was made when I made the best decision of my whole life and chose my husband instead of the loser who impregnated me. I have tears, friendships, births, successes, failures, losses, happiness, hardships, mistakes, regret, and more written down in that mug. It’s almost half of a lifetime’s worth of experiences and knowledge. And even though some of it’s not pretty, I wouldn’t erase those marks even if I could.

It’s who I am. And I heart it!

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