“Unconditional” Love

Note: Sometimes I just enjoy being the asshole, not the sarcastic asshole. These thoughts are fortunately not based on my own experiences with my family, but rather based on stories from some very great people with unfortunate home situations.

I will never side with parents who do not understand what “unconditional love” means. Maybe they understand it, but some sure as hell don’t practice it. Unconditional means without questions or limitations; it is absolute. Love can be defined as many different things, but for the sake of this argument, love means support, whether you understand or do not understand someone’s life struggles.

I firmly believe that we were all put on this planet for a reason, whether it be from an Almighty God or whatever forces we could go on listing. For me, I don’t care whether you were born with a bible in your hand or a disease in your body, we should all strive to accept every single person we encounter and love them like we were taught as kids. We all have a purpose—there are multiple reasons why we were put exactly where we are. We could’ve been born with a disease to educate those around us on health. We could’ve been born with a disability, and teach everyone a lesson about overcoming challenges. We could’ve been born falling in love with the same sex, allowing those around us to see that all love is the same love and respect is not a privilege, but an expectation.

We are all born with our “stuff”—our baggage that flourishes year after year. Whether these are physical impairments, mental disabilities, or things that have happened to us throughout our lifespans, we all have a story to tell and no one should feel like they will be judged for telling theirs.

It sounds like such a simple statement, “be who you were destined to be” but it is one that is often overlooked.

So repeatedly do I hear (especially since moving to the South), stories of people who have come out as gay to their families—which is not easy to do for many people—and those families reject them for who they are. So this is where I tend to question those who “unconditionally love” their child, because, when you make the huge decision to have a baby, keep the baby, and raise the baby, you have made a commitment to that child to always be there, to love them, and to guide them. When a child comes out as gay, that does not mean you have failed as a parent, or that you could’ve prevented it—its simply genetics.

Take the situation and look at it from a spiritual standpoint: Why did God give me a gay child? And I don’t want that question to be said with anger, but more so with general curiosity. Why did God give me a gay child? The answer lies within. Maybe your baby was destined to be a symbol of equality—or maybe God wanted you to test your love and acceptance towards the people he brings into your life everyday. Maybe—just maybe—instead of looking at the child you raised and praying endlessly for God to change them—maybe look in a mirror. At the core of your parenthood, you should want the basics for your child—love, acceptance, and strength. And when you say, “I don’t agree with your ‘gay lifestyle’”—that, THAT, is when you have failed as a parent AND a person of faith. Instead of constantly being the teacher, take a seat and let your child teach you about Love. Acceptance. Strength.

If you can’t fathom your child being gay, having a disability, developing a disease, etc. then please, give it to a family that will accept that child and love it unconditionally.

Every child is beautiful. Every person has a story. Everyone deserves to be respected and loved, whether or not you understand their lives or not is nowhere near the purpose of loving someone unconditionally. Living out who we are is never an “issue”— No one is an issue. And it’s time to love each other without conditions.

This shit makes me so sad I even wrote a little poem:

A Mother’s Cry

 “He loves me,”

“He loves me not.”

She cried to God.

“Why doesn’t he love me?

Why won’t he talk to me?

Is he mad at what he chose?

Is he mad at You, too?”

God replied.


He loves you for who you are.

He is sickened,

That you can’t do the same.”

All she could do was scream.

“I can’t accept him.

Take him back.

Make him normal.

Fix his issues.”

So God took her away.


Click Here For Some Swear Words

Today is not just any ordinary day, but rather a beautifully ordinary day.

I’m sitting atop a hill in the middle of a park, notepad in hand while condensation from my sweet tea is dripping down my cracker white legs. Fuck, I need a tan.

My stare hits a small family. Two kids, Mom, Dad, and an ugly ass tiny dog. They seem normal, happy, enjoying their time together, and then the reality of what I am viewing hits me. I start nit-picking what this mother is putting on her son’s feet. I begin talking to myself.

“Are those fucking Crocs? Good God.”

I try and look away but it’s like an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos where there’s a 14-hour segment on Dad’s getting hit in the nuts with various sports equipment. I couldn’t look away.

Then a shirtless guy entered the park.

Now I could look away.

I was into it.

As I cleared the vat of drool that fell from the drop of my jaw, I realized what I was writing on my notepad. I just wrote about staring at a beautiful shirtless man. I wrote about my attraction.

This situation wouldn’t have happened last year. I wouldn’t have stared at the Hot Dad running past me with an ass I could balance a keg on; I sure as shit wouldn’t be writing it down for the world to see.

But a lot has changed for Garrett in the past year. I have learned to express myself and not hide in a closet, (unless said closet is full of H&M clothing—then I might choose to stay in) and most importantly I have been honest with those around me about who I am and who I was meant to be.

There is nothing better than when you are honest with who you are. I was born gay, though I tried to fit in a community of straight people, and it just didn’t work out. It would be like Fox News trying to get invited to the DNC. It would be like Jan Brady wanting to actually have a character plot in The Brady Bunch. Me trying to be straight was like Simon Cowell trying to not be a dick. It was just not meant to work out that way.

And so here I am, taking pride in who I am, taking a stance for what I believe, and never apologizing for any of it. At times you will be like “da fuq?” or “that’s kind of rude.” In response to those reactions—good. I’m glad you also have opinions and I would love to (probably not if I am being real) read your opinions about what I have to say. You only know what you know, right?

So anyway, I guess, just, welcome and congrats on not clicking out of this page yet. I guess I will have to be more edgy (winky face emoji).

>> This will be a blog full of drunken thoughts, sobering moments, and complete honesty – because I did too many years of lying. <<

Enjoy it if you can.

And now a poem:

Mom, don’t read my blog,

It’s some real gay shit.

And if you’re not uncomfortable yet,

Picture me eating a hot dog.