top of page
Anchor 19
My Gay Companion
I had been in Caicó for just over three months when the Mission President decided to transfer me to another city. I was sad to leave Caicó. Although terribly hot, it had become my home. I was assigned a new missionary companion. My current companion called him a Brazilian “crentão,” an extreme hard-ass, even worse than my first! “Just what I need right now,” I thought as my heart sank at the mere suggestion. There were also rumors that my new companion was gay. "Oh great! Why would God send me on a mission and give me a gay companion?" I decided to write it off as mere gossip and took my leave from Caicó.
Upon my arrival in the barrio Mangabeira, João Pessoa, I met the object of the gay speculations. He certainly was attractive indeed. As soon as he said “hello,” I knew why he was rumored to be gay. He was unmistakably “flamboyant.” Shortly after I arrived, we had lunch at a Mormon member’s home. As quickly as our hostess left the room, he looked into the mirror and said, “What a beautiful face I see here in the mirror,” as he arranged his hair. There was an awkward silence. He turned to me and asked, “Don’t you think so too?” Then he quickly followed up by, “I’m just joking” and snickered. I could not believe this was really happening to me. “God must have a cruel sense of humor!” I thought. “Or was I experiencing a terrible nightmare?”
It took two long weeks for him to allude to “the question.” We stopped to sit in the shade for a break from the hot sun to drink freshly squeezed sugar cane juice. My favorite! He then began to ask me if I could keep a secret. I said “Yes, of course.” He proceeded with “Have you ever had an attraction that you thought was not, how do you say... normal?” “What do you mean?” I asked innocently. He described how he felt attracted to males and didn’t know why. He began to explain how liberating it was to finally have someone to talk to about it. He continued expressing how it felt “natural” talking to me about his same-sex attraction. “Others seem overly judgmental” he explained. He began discussing how difficult and confusing it all was. I wanted so badly to just yell it out! But, I kept my mouth shut. Although I was dying inside, I was afraid to say anything that would lead us to jeopardize our missions. So I kept quiet, but I think he somehow knew.
A couple of days later, my missionary companion was admiring my scripture bag. So I let him borrow it. We went out knocking on doors, but within a few hours he said he needed to rest. We sat down together inside a private room at a Mormon Church close by. I asked him what was wrong. He looked at me in a strange way and said: “I’m beginning to get, how do you say, turned on by your bag rubbing up against me and I can’t take it anymore!” I didn’t know what to say. He suggested we go back to the house and get his other bag. I agreed and we headed back home. I somehow sensed there was an ulterior motive. I felt excited but hesitant at the same time. I had an idea of what was in store. When we walked into the front door, we both immediately dropped our bags and began to kiss passionately. That was the first time I had truly kissed anyone with such passion. We had so much pent up sexual tension that it was difficult to contain ourselves, but somehow we did. Over the next four weeks we made out multiple times, but we kept our virginity intact. Almost absurdly, we believed that Satan was working hard to ruin our mission and that we must fight him together! We somehow overlooked the fact that we were two young attractive gay males forced to live together in celibacy! Torturous! It was one of the most difficult situations I had ever endured and succeeded! Our companionship together didn’t last long due to this circumstance. As a “Zone Leader” of forty missionaries, my companion felt guilty and called the mission president to inform him of what had ensued. After a mere 2 months together, he was quickly transferred. We never saw each other again except briefly at mission conferences.
As I look back today, I see how life has a way of helping us accept who we are. This experience with my gay companion allowed me to express my sexuality for the first time and it was undeniably liberating. The process of self-acceptance was finally in motion. I slowly began to see a light at the end of the tunnel despite the fact I was stuck in a metaphorical tar pit. I would escape but it would take many more years of struggle before I could finally break free due to sheer desperation.
bottom of page