The Big Ten-Oh

Today, Clyde and I celebrate our first decade together.

Ten years.

We met at a church in Jackson, Mississippi. Because I always showed up with two friends in tow (a married couple), a vicious rumor began circulating that I was already involved … with them both!

When Clyde heard the rumor, he said, “I don’t know what’s going on with those three, but I’m going to find out.”

I guess he did, since shortly after that, I approached him and asked him out. “We could go see a movie,” I said. “Or rent a video.”

At the time, of course, I had no idea he owned a theatre … and a video store.

Our first date did not start well: I showed up, and Clyde didn’t. I drove around a bit, thinking he had been delayed — fifteen minutes later, no Clyde. Miffed, I decided I had misjuded his enthusiasm for me and started the long drive back up the Natchez Trace to Kosciusko.

On impulse, I stopped to make one last call at the Jitney Premiere on Old Canton Road, giving him the proverbial “last chance” — and he answered the phone on the third ring.

On that first night, I resolved to start our relationship differently than I’d started any other. “I’m going to tell you, right up front, everything people will say about me, because I want you to hear it from me first.”

Clyde hesitated. “Okay.”

“I’m an atheist,” I said (and I was, back then). “I’m also a preacher, and I work for a seminary. When I lived here in Jackson once before, I tried, without much luck, to date two other people. One was mentally imbalanced, had delusions that I was the Devil Incarnate, and was whisked away to a mental hospital. The other started calling me his “One, True Forever Love” after our first short date. I’ve wasted the last eight years waiting for someone I’ve called my best friend to recognize me for the wonderful potential partner I am … and I’m done waiting. The two people always with me are a married couple, and I’m not now, nor have I ever been, in a three-way relationship with them. My family doesn’t know I’m gay, and they’re likely to have nothing to do with me once they do know … and it’s likely to be hard on me and the person I wind up with.” I took a breath. “That’s about it.”

Clyde hesitated. “Okay.”

The honesty paid off. Later that week, as word of our liking for each other became the latest gossip, A Certain Person who will Remain Unnamed came to Clyde and said, “You know that Mark McElroy? I heard he’s an atheist.”

“He told me. Not as big a deal as you’d think.”

“You know, I heard dating Mark put So-and-So in the mental hospital.”

Clyde yawned. “That’s not exactly what happened — he told me about it.”

“Well, you know he dropped So-and-So like a hot potato right after their first date.”

“Yep. Heard that, too.”

So he stuck with me — at least until Christmas. That was his running joke, throughout much of that first year: “I figure I’ll give you a try through Christmas, and see how things go.” After our first Christmas together, he granted me a year-long extension: “Let’s just take things through next Christmas.”

To this day, our Christmas celebration includes noting that, once again, I’ve made it through the yuletide season.

So many memories.

– My mother called that first year, warning me: “When that old man is through with you, he’ll just toss you aside and go on to corrupt some other young boy.” (I was twenty-eight at the time. Clyde, the old man, was thirty.)

– A crazed local minister broke a window out of Clyde’s car … and later, threw a Coke bottle through our bedroom window in the middle of the night.

– We moved to a new house, our favorite of all our houses, as a way of having a place more “ours” than “Clyde’s.” We painted the bedroom red; by the time we were finished, we had to call in professional painters to repair the damage — and replace the carpets.

– We moved to Atlanta. I arrived an atheist and left a Methodist. We made more good friends in two years there than we’ve made the whole time we’ve lived in Jackson. (You all know who you are … and you know we miss you.) We got a taste of the city — real movies, real events, real options — and have craved it ever since.

– We moved back to Jackson. WorldCom rose and fell. Clyde launched a successful Internet business. I finished and sold a book. Now I’ve sold another.

– Clyde’s family accepted and loved me from Day One, God bless ’em. That was especially important for me, because my own family, with whom I’d always been close, freaked out when I came out. Mom and I barely spoke for the better part of three years; Clyde and I were together for seven before she would allow him in her home. But things get better with prayer and patience — and, today, my relationship with my family continues to improve.

Through it all, Clyde has been my contant, my True North, the one person in the entire world I can depend on without reservation. He balances me. He inspires me. He keeps me focused. He makes my life — every aspect of it — possible.

And he’s done it, as of today, for ten years.

I love you, Clyde. I thank God for bringing you into my life and keeping you there, despite the odds.

Here’s hoping I make it through Christmas for decades to come.