In Memory

I remember at the age of nineteen sitting on the pool deck of our fraternity house, with who would become your other two dads, discussing the idea of going out and finding you. I never had a dog growing up, so I was excited about the idea of getting one.

I remember traveling to Ahwatukee with Straitlord, who as it turned out you liked a lot more than your other dad, Baby Huey, to visit your birth family. We subsequently chose you and brought you home with us to the fraternity house.

I remember having mixed emotions at the time because I was so excited that you were now part of our family, but I also felt terrible that we took you away from your mom, dad, and siblings at the tender age of around two weeks old.

I remember how darned cute you were as a puppy. With your flopped over ears, tiny paws, black nose and eyes, and curled up little tail. I thought your most discernible feature was your pigment around your eyes. Your right eye was black and your left was pink.

I remember how Alice, who certainly didn’t need any help with the ladies, used to carry you around and use you as his wingman those first few months when we had sorority functions at the house, hoping to impress the girls with his softer side.

I remember how you were the first. Soon thereafter another brother brought T into the house. The two of you formed your own little puppy pledge class.

I remember how you and T used to dart down the hallway to get to the sand volleyball court where you would play and play and play until the two of you were exhausted and your tongues were double their size. You’d come back in with sand and T’s drool all over you, lie down next to your water bowl, and make a mess slurping up some water.

I remember how you used to love to dig in the volleyball court. I can vividly picture you digging with your snout in the sand, your front paws moving a mile a minute, sand flying backwards between your hind legs, and the hole you left behind.

I remember that as T began to grow larger than you, you seemed to have not noticed it nor really cared about his size. The two of you continued to rough house like when you were younger. You were never afraid of him, nor any of the other bigger dogs you used to play with later on in your life.

I remember us teaching you your one and only trick. Paw, other paw, and high five. You were really great at remembering them, but in truth, I am pretty sure you were just playing us for some more treats.

I remember how much you used to love to run. We’d be walking down the street of our first house on the way to the park, when with about 200 yards to go, I’d take you off your leash and watch you sprint the rest of the way to the grass. At the park, I’d attempt to chase you, but in most cases you were too fast and there was too much grass for me to cover. The image of your face and body running, with your coat swept back to your tail will never leave me.

I remember we’d play fetch, but half the time you had me fetching your ball or rope because after having fetched it, you’d drop it nowhere near where I was. Maybe you knew I had put on a couple of pounds at the time and you wanted me to slim down a bit.

I remember, while on the grass, how much you used to love lying on your side, then on your back, and then on to your other side. While doing that you used to love taking a bite out of the grass.

I remember coming home so many times to find you sleeping on my bed.

I remember in preparation for The Pipes overnight visit, I thought I would be cute and place chocolates, that I had brought back with me from a hotel I had stayed at on an earlier business trip that week, on their pillows. Only, The Pipes were never able to enjoy those chocolates because it was you my Little Guy who somehow found them on their bed while we were at dinner. You even ate most of the wrappers.

I remember how much you loved your next door neighbor S. She was much smaller than you, and despite you having been snipped years before, you would mount her from the back or either of her sides. We all had great fun watching you work on your abs.

I remember all the different names our friends had for you.

I remember how you used to occasionally mount, mainly from the sides, one of the bigger male dogs down the street and I was left to wonder........

I remember how much you used to love the closet. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I would come home looking for you, only to find you behind my hanging clothes in our walk-in closet. It wasn’t only in our house, but when you would stay at The Runners, I was told you spent a great deal of time in their closet as well. Again, I was left to wonder...........

I remember each time I took a business trip and had to drop you off at the boarding facility. I would watch you walk away with a tremendous amount of guilt.

I remember these last few months and how wonderful it was for us to spend them together. As much as you needed me over this period, I needed you more and I am thankful that you were there for me.

I remember our first drive back home to Arizona in early August. It was during this trip when I was to begin the process of coming out to the rest of our family and friends. Once we crossed the Colorado River into the state of Arizona, you decided to shit three times in the backseat of the car. I had to stop on three different occasions within the span of 45 minutes to clean it up. I was left to wonder what message you were trying to convey to me about what was to come on our first visit back home.

I remember it was during the Sunday of that weekend back in early August when the struggle in my life began to ease as yours unfortunately began to grow. In the span of six hours on that Sunday, I went from shedding tears for myself in having finally begun the process of coming out to my closest friends, to shedding tears for you in learning from the veterinary nurse about your heartbreaking experience overnight and hearing for the first time the conversation about your "quality of life" and when “is the right time.”

I remember our last Thanksgiving together as a family up at your grandparents house last November. I am thankful that you were able to spend some time with your cousins, aunts, uncle, and grandparents one last time.

I remember watching you devour a double double during our last Valentine’s Day together. You captured my heart the moment we brought you home.

I remember this time exactly one week ago, having arrived at the vet, splitting with you a 3 Musketeers candy bar. A 3 Musketeers because it represents the three of us who brought you into our lives. A 3 Musketeers because it is my favorite candy bar and it represents our shared love of chocolate. A 3 Musketeers because you were such a sweet dog, and I wanted your final treat to be a sweet one.

Of all the memories that I have of our time spent together, which are way too numerous to list here, what I will remember most my Little Guy was seeing you smile. You ALWAYS smiled and I will forever remember how much you loved life. The joy, learning, and love you brought to my life was immeasurable and I can’t even begin to convey to you how proud of you I was in how wonderful you turned out to be. I was incredibly blessed. You were a tremendous friend and companion, and I am so grateful that you were such a significant part of my life. You are, and will continue to be deeply missed, forever loved, and never forgotten!

Rest in peace my Little Guy, rest in peace!

Adam Exposed

Well kind of.

I’ve thought long and hard, really from the start of my blogging experience, on whether I would ever post a picture of myself in any form on Stand Straight. One of the two guys who knew that I was blogging from the start recommended that I do. To which I vehemently opposed for a number of reasons. Stand Straight is not, and will never be about pictures of beautiful guys. (although you will occasionally see some) There are already a number of great sites and blogs that cater to that sort of thing. What Stand Straight has been and will always be about is me and my own personal growth in coming out, from a repressed state, as a gay man in 2008 America. As as I outlined in my very first post, Break it Down, one of the three goals in writing Stand Straight was for it to provide me with the opportunity to evaluate my own personal growth as my journey progressed.

Now that I’m back in Phoenix, I’ve had the opportunity to look back at my experiences over the last few months and reflect on how far I’ve come. I believe I have made some tremendous strides on a number of fronts but one of the two areas where I still struggle with is my body and having other guys look at it. I still find it very awkward and in some respects I remain a basket case when they do. I had one experience at the Abbey about a week ago where a guy, who was by himself, looked me up and down and then began to chuckle. I immediately began to wonder what the hell was he chuckling at. Was I excited? Did I spill ketchup on myself? Did my pee miss the urinal? Did a bird shit on me? Was cum dripping down my mouth? (no it couldn’t have been that) It freaked me out and I became totally self conscious. My night was ruined after that because every time from then on that someone would look at me, they reinforced that guy’s chuckle in my mind. When I finally arrived home I did a thorough inspection and everything appeared normal. (thankfully I couldn’t see inside my brain)

So in an effort to grow and become more comfortable with other guys looking at me, I now expose Adam.

Well kind of.








The two body parts that need the most work are ones that unfortunately I will not be sharing. (my two heads) Ironically, both of them may need professional help.

And if anybody who happens to read this thinks they know who I am, I ask that you please respect my identity and the therapeutic intent on why I chose to post these pictures. I sincerely appreciate it and thanks!

An Affair to Remember

The Underwear Affairwas AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I still can't believe I did it. To say it was personally liberating would be an UNDER statement! What a blast! I only wish I had some friends out here to enjoy it with and run with as a group.

Anyway, as it turns out I ran it competitively. I know of no other way. The real funny thing was that I missed the start of my 10K race because I set myself up in back behind the Aussie Bum boys. :) You'll see why in a bit. Unbeknownst to me they chose to run the 5K. (why am I not surprised) So I'm waiting and waiting and then all of a sudden realize that the 10K runners had already started. I had to run quick to catch up with everyone, and once I started I didn't stop. I didn't see many cute guys out there which was a bit surprising and disappointing. Hence, I didn't use any of the run-up lines that I thought of. Anyway, here are a bunch of photos from the event. Just call me paparazadam. (and this will be the first and last time that I am paparazadam. All pictures were professionally taken with my Kodak $7.99 disposable camera purchased at CVS 3 hours before the race.)

Felt good with the inspirational message

Creative Costumes



Why I'm Gay (Just kidding ladies. It wasn't my choice, I've accepted who I am, and I love your spirit and outfits!)


Tesla-first time I've seen this 0-60 in 3.9 seconds, electric car in person

Celebrityin the race......although not in his undies

I caught up with him, paced off him for a bit, then ran fast and past

I thought the guy in the yellow shirt and jeans was super cute. He was handing out flyers for another cancer run this fall. hmm

Aussie Bum boys

And so I asked, "Aussie Bum boys can I take a picture of you guys?" The cute one on the left had a weird face after I asked him that. It caught me off guard a bit that maybe a dude asking for his picture would catch him off guard. (and I assumed that he was a model for them and should be used to dudes asking for his picture)




PS....Thanks Ed for the recommendation. I did run in a black pair of the Calvin's you recommended. They worked out well. :) And Dan, I did go with black socks and was tempted to buy black sneakers but I knew better.

Survivor-"Burning Heart"

Repressed Thoughts of Youth

I believe I first knew I was different when I was in the third grade. It was then that I first had my first physical attraction, as I look back on it today, to another boy. His name was Adam and he was in the fourth grade. I remember that during one afternoon recess, while out in the playground, Adam took off his shirt. Adam looked good without his shirt on and from that point forward during my early years in elementary and middle school I had a fondness for him. During that time I clearly didn’t know what my attraction to Adam was. Was it because I thought he looked cute without his shirt on, was it because he had that perfect unblemished and smooth golden skin that I did not, was it because he was older and a grade ahead of me, or was it because he was pretty popular. At the time, I didn’t know what the answer was. I didn’t know why I was so taken by looking at another boy without his shirt on. For Adam it was just that once, but for me it was just the beginning.

Should I have known then?

Aah, the graduation parties. The first memories that are still fairly vivid belong to those from 5th grade and moving on from elementary school. These stand out because pool parties were the parties of the day. Lot’s of pool parties with everyone in their suits. The thing that I most remember was my reluctance at many of these parties to take off my shirt. This self consciousness about my body still exists today. (I’ve never had a bad body, and today I believe it’s never been better. However, what I see is different from what others see.) I also believe those experiences in the fifth grade were the start of me covering up myself. I’ve always bought clothes bigger than necessary, I’ve always preferred being shirts rather then skins, and yes I have always been a prude. Metaphorically speaking was I trying to hide?

Should I have known then?

To celebrate moving on from middle school, 8th grade to high school, my parents threw me a graduation party at our house. I grew up in a woodsy area on a hill, and we had a gorgeous deck extending from our house. I remember as the party was wrapping up a number of us were sitting on the lounge chairs on the deck talking about our relationships and the bases we all rounded. I remember Daniel telling us about getting a hand job and all I can think about at the time was my desire to give him a hand job. This came after making out with Wendy a little earlier in the day in my basement. But what stayed with me after that day was my desire to get closer to Daniel rather than Wanda.

Should I have known then?

What about my secret crushes on the teen idols that my younger sister also idolized? She would pin-up their photos from all of those teen magazines and I would consequently find myself visiting her in her room more than she came to visit me in mine. The first was Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block.



I remember them having a Saturday morning cartoon show where they would intersperse the cartoon with videos of theirs. One was of the group on stage with a close-up of Joey dancing with an unbuttoned shirt, full chest exposed, and wet. I remember recording it, hiding myself in the basement, and replaying that video over and over and over again. Or what about the time when the movie A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon came out starring River Phoenix. There’s this one scene, attached clip at minute marker 1:35-2:52, that I must have watched a thousand times.



At the time I didn’t know if I was drawn to this scene because I wanted to be in the position that River was in with that older woman, or was it because I wanted to be that older woman and do the same thing to him as she had.

Should I have known then?

For most of my youth, I was lucky enough to have been sent away to sleep away camp for 8 weeks during the summer. Lucky because I really did enjoy it, lucky because not everyone had the same means to enjoy such a similar experience, lucky because it provided me the opportunity to bond with other members of the tribe (it wasn’t a religious camp but it was affiliated and most of the campers were tribe members), and lastly, lucky because it gave me the opportunity to spend 8 weeks in the same bunk with other guys my age. Now I only wish that I could offer a sensational coming of age story from this experience, but I can not. So this blog will go on. What I remember from camp were the pantie raids in the middle of the night. Sneaking out from our bunk and heading off to the girls camp, in search of their panties and to see what they looked like in the middle of the night. (among other things) At the time, I remember thinking to myself that I could care less about these excursions.

Should I have known then?

My high school years were awesome. Nonetheless the confusion persisted. I played soccer recreationally while growing up but moved to basketball in high school. Four years of basketball on the high school team, two on varsity for what? Was it the love of the game, or the love of the guys? Was it the sweaty, shirtless practices or the locker room after a game? What about my desire throughout high school to befriend all of the hot guys in class to work my way into situations where I saw them how I wanted to see them. (worked a number of times) Or what about the many times Henry and I used to wrestle either in my basement or his house. He would pretend that he was Hulk Hogan and I would pretend I was Andre the Giant. He would always take his shirt off, and I wouldn’t. I would get hard, and he wouldn’t. At least that’s how I experienced it on our final match. I left his house that day knowing something was wrong, and I only hoped that he didn’t feel it. (as I most certainly did) After that incident, we were still friends for the final 3 years of high school but not like we were before. He never brought it up and I never opened up about the sudden strength I found that day in the muscle that decided to wake up.

Should I have known then?

I just don’t know. It seems easy now to reflect back, look at my life, and pinpoint the things in my youth that I either didn’t want to see, or believe in the person that I didn’t want to be. My youth years were for the most part great, and there were certainly a lot more grey experiences to them then the black and white ones that I’ve finally opened up about here. However, I will forever have to live with the consequences, the sense of wonder, the mental anguish, and the missed opportunities of what my complete and honest life could have been. Do I have any regrets? Not really! (that's a lie, maybe one or two sexual ones) Do I look forward to my honest future? Absolutely!

In order to step forward I recognize that I must return to my innocence.

Enigma-"Return to Innocence"