Happy National Coming Out Day! I wanted to continue my tradition of posting every year on October 11 (see 2022, 2023, 2024, and 2025). I don't have a lot to say this time, because I've already said many of the things I want to say. I had a few other things I was going to say in this post, but I removed them because they might not age well.
Not much has changed in the last year. Perhaps the biggest thing is that I let my temple recommend expire at the beginning of the year. I just don't feel comfortable answering the "sustain" question right now. But I don't really like going to the temple anyway. There's a quote from President Nelson that says, "If you don’t yet love to attend the temple, go more often—not less." From 2011 to 2020, I went to the temple every month, only missing a few times. During those nine years, I did not come to love the temple; if anything, I liked it less. I attended the temple because I was supposed to love it, not because I actually did—and I think many Latter-day Saints secretly feel the same way. (I also acknowledge that it is a truly meaningful experience for many people, and I'm happy for them. And I have had positive temple experiences, though I can't necessarily say they're more positive than what I could experience elsewhere.)
With all that said, there are times when I wonder if I'm slightly more orthodox than I have been for the past four years. General conference last week was less triggering for me than it has been in a while. And recently I had a dream that I was asked to go on another mission, and I said I would go as long as I didn't have to go tracting.
I dated women for a decade, and I have often wondered if I might have gotten married if I had been more social and outgoing. But I'm glad I didn't! Ironically, I think I'm actually a better catch for women now that I no longer date them. I'm generally more confident. I devote more time to fitness, so I think I'm better looking. (I weigh twenty to twenty-five pounds more than I did four years ago at this time, and I like to think it's mostly muscle mass.) I wear clothes that I like, not worrying that my clothes will "out" me or that I'm not cool enough to wear them. Actually, I think that's an advantage queer people have. There are arbitrary cultural norms that straight, cisgender people feel they have to adhere to. Like, if a straight, cis man likes pink, he might feel he has to suppress that because it's not the gender norm. But queer people already go against the norm, so we can do what we want.
Despite my positivity, there are still difficulties in this LDS/LGBTQ+ space, some of them expected, some of them surprising. I still have plenty of existential questions about my present and my future, and there's always a tension in participating in a religion when I reject its teachings on queer issues.

































































