Where Everybody Knows Your Name

(The subject of this post is less political and more personal, so please bear with me.)

I was reminded, tonight, of a conversation I had with one of my closest friends and mentors, Dr. Kelly Dorgan, just before I moved to Los Angeles in 2009.  I had been discussing with her how I have never felt like I belonged to any community, and that I hope to find one in the leather community when I moved to L.A.  She said to me something that, at the time made sense, but never really clicked until this past year:

"Marcus," she said, "I don't think that you are ever going to find a community where you 'belong,' because you don't need to 'belong' to any sort of community.  I've watched you in the context of this class and in our conversations, and it's clear that you are the sort of person who doesn't need to belong to one community or another because you will end up creating your own community of diverse personalities and people."

Again, at the time, it made sense to me, and I agreed with her, but I held out hope that I would find a sense of belonging in the L.A. leather community that I had yet to find in any other endeavor I've undertaken.  This lack of integration has held true over many facets of my life, and when I look back, I've always felt cheated by my inability to assimilate; my lack of a desire to "be a part" of this community or that.

When I think of the best things I've done with my life, there are many bright spots - my three years with The Cadets forever changed my life, and I feel a strong sense of Family with them; my many years at Macaroni Grill introduced me to dozens of people with whom I've formed unbreakable bonds, regardless of how far they've stretched over time; my year spent as Mr. Pistons Leather 2010, during which I met many people whom I now count amongst my closest friends.

These circumstances all have one thing in common: I never fully fit in with the greater group, despite my dedicated participation.

At The Cadets, I always felt like the odd man out, regardless of what degree of success I, personally, and we, as a group, achieved.  I was never "normal," in comparison to my peers - I didn't like the same music (at all), I didn't enjoy dance clubs, and I always said the "wrong thing."  I was awkward; they told me I had a habit of staring at people, which is likely true because I was studying them to see what I was doing wrong.  I was the Matrix.  I was weird.  And though I would never trade those years for anything, there is always a part of me that felt like I was never part of the "in crowd," and not as a result of malice on the part of anyone else, but because I was okay not being in the group, regardless of how much I wanted to be.  I don't begrudge anyone with whom I ever marched for not including me in their group activities, because it allowed me to make friends in other sections or in other corps that I might not have otherwise made.

At Macaroni Grill (all seven stores), I never really fit in with my coworkers.  At my favorite store in Knoxville, I was rarely, if ever, invited out to my coworkers house parties, nights out at the bars, or gatherings.  I would organize my own gatherings, instead, and invite the people who I enjoyed and who enjoyed me, and I created my own clique of people who didn't mind that I said strange things, and who appreciated my sense of humor.

Most recently, with my activities with the L.A. leather community, I was never a paragon of belonging.  My ideas of entertainment, fun, and worthwhile activities aren't necessarily in line with those of my title brothers.  While many of them enjoy getting dressed up in their leather/rubber/gear and going out to bars, that isn't really my thing because, for me, it's just too much of a hassle.  Naturally, there are some people with whom I have formed lasting bonds, but in most cases, those bonds were formed outside of the context of the leather community, the bars, and the events; rather, they were formed because of personalities, our shared desire to be around the other, and because of shared interests.

It is only recently, over the past year, that I have started to realize that all of this is okay.  There is nothing wrong with not being a part of the pack; with being the boring one; with marching to my own beat.  Dr. Dorgan was correct: I don't have a need to belong to one community or another - I will create my own community.

This year, I plan to spend my time creating this community, and including in it a vast and diverse crowd of individuals with whom I share different interests.  I will make every effort not to inflict or impose my own distaste for certain activities upon my chosen family, and instead revel in what attracts each of us to the other.  I will try to be open to new experiences, while doing away with activities that no longer bring me joy.

This is not a rebuke of any one person's idea of what it means to have a good time.  It is, however, my saying that I will try to be diverse enough in my own activities with others that I can be open to what they enjoy, while simultaneously introducing them into other segments of my life.

And while there are times where I want to go where everybody knows my name, sometimes, it's infinitely better to go where just a handful of people know my name, and what draws us together as a group is our love of having a great time, and creating our own context.

Thank you, Dr. Dorgan, for being right.  My community starts here, and will begin building, now.