Still Choosing Her

So… here’s how Allyson and I met, fell in love, and built a pretty damn awesome life together.

May 1999. Mesa Community College. Callbacks for South Pacific. I’m sitting there chatting with my pal Kessa Whiting when I hear the most glorious voice singing “Bali Ha’i,” and my brain completely falls out. I turn and ask, “Who is THAT?!”

Kessa says, “Oh, that’s Porter’s sister, Allyson.”

I immediately reply, “You know her?! I must meet her!”

And I did.

It went well. I made her laugh, and at one point she casually threw out, “Why aren’t we dating?” I got her number… and then three weeks passed between that night and our first rehearsal.

June 1999. Rehearsals begin, and I burst through the door and yell, “Allyson Shumway! I lost your number!”

She rolled her eyes, and that was that.

I asked her out. She said no. I asked her out again. She said no. I asked again and again and again and again until she finally said, “If I agree to go out with you, do you promise to leave me alone?”

“YES.”

We went out, and she made out with me—yes, she made the first move. Side note: she then informed me I was a terrible kisser and that she needed to “teach me.” So, to all you youngsters out there, maybe tuck that one away for future use, because I’ve gotta give it to her—that was a great line, and it absolutely worked.

Now, I need to pause here for a second in the spirit of keeping it real.

In my last post, I hinted at some things. This time, I want to say them more plainly.

What I’m about to share is my story. My truth. It is not up for debate, critique, or analysis from anyone else. The road I’ve walked has not been easy, but the hand of the Lord has been all over my life. My marriage is no accident. My children are no accident. So much of my life has come through prayer, choice, struggle, grace, and learning to accept myself.

The suffering was real. The shame was real. The self-hatred was real. Some of those demons still show up from time to time. But to be completely honest, I wouldn’t want a different life. I’m richly blessed, and I am overwhelmingly grateful for all that I have.

You may be confused. That’s okay.

So was I.

But here’s the shortest version: I found the Lord, and He led me to Allyson. Together, we have walked an unconventional path, and it is a path that works for us. No two marriages are the same. Ours is ours. On April 4, 2002, I made vows and covenants to her, and I have kept them. None of this was a surprise to Allyson. She knew my past. She knew my present. And she married me anyway. She saw something in me I still sometimes struggle to see in myself: the divine me. The whole me. The worthy me.

Back to the longer version…

One night when we were first starting to hang out, she said to me, “But you’re gay, right?”

And I said, “Yeah.”

She asked, “Then why do you want to date me?”

And the only answer I had was the truth: “I don’t know. I just do.”

There was something about her that made sense to me. She brought calm to my chaos. She quieted the noise in my head. I made her wildly nervous, but we kept going. We dated for about two years, got engaged, and then I did what I had done so many times before: I panicked, believed I didn’t deserve happiness, self-sabotaged, and blew the whole thing up.

When you’ve been told over and over that you are a hateful, awful, horrible, rotten child—and you believe that something inside of you is broken—eventually those words and beliefs start sounding like truth.

It has taken a lot of therapy, a lot of work, and a lot of grace for me to understand that those messages were never really about me. And thank God for that, because I know now that I’m pretty damn awesome.

We went through a painful breakup for about three months. But eventually, we found our way back to each other.

We got engaged. Again. And this time, it held.

Now… I had a little work to do.

You see, I’m a two-time high school dropout. Oh—you didn’t know that either? Well, ain’t I just full of surprises?

Yep. I dropped out of high school not once… but twice.

Allyson wasn’t about to marry no dummy, so one of her conditions for saying yes was that I get my GED and a solid job.

Enter our very dear friend Gina—my study buddy, my coach, and the one who helped me get my act together… because Lord knows I needed it.

I got my GED. I got the job.

And then… we set the date.

But before we go any further, I need to say something out loud—because this part of the story matters just as much as everything else.

I want to be very clear about something.

I believe I was born this way, and I believe that is perfectly all right. I do not believe there is anything wrong with being gay. I celebrate those who live fully and openly in that truth. I was not “cured.” I do not support conversion therapy. I do not believe in “praying away the gay.” Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

What changed was not my orientation. What changed was my peace.

I found self-love. I found self-acceptance. I found a way to live truthfully before God and within my own life. I do not feel that I am denying myself. I feel the opposite. I feel authentic. I feel grounded. I feel honest. I fell in love with a woman who changed my life for the better, and I built a life with her that is real, joyful, sacred, and mine.

So please do not feel sorry for me. And please do not feel sorry for Allyson.

We are thriving.

April 4, 2002. Mesa Temple. After three years of on-again, off-again dating, a broken engagement, heartache, healing, and a whole lot of choosing each other, we met at the altar and made the decision to be all in. To love each other forever. And we were married.

But marriage did not magically erase the battles in my head.

My upbringing and my past had done real damage, and I knew I needed help. So I got into therapy because I was tired of hating myself. I was tired of being trapped in shame. I was tired of living under the weight of guilt that no longer belonged to me. Coming to terms with who I am, what I believe, and how I wanted to live has taken me a very long time. But I can say now, with my whole chest, that I have never been more at peace with myself.

And part of why I’m sharing this is because I see so many young people carrying that same fear.

As a teacher, I see kids struggling with identity, trying to figure out who they are, terrified of judgment, terrified of rejection, terrified that if people really knew them, they might not be loved. I know exactly what that feels like. So if my story helps even one person feel less alone, then telling it is worth it.

You do not have to be anything but yourself.

You do not need to fit into anyone else’s picture of who you are “supposed” to be. You answer to yourself and to God. And I believe with everything in me that you are a beloved child of God—worthy, whole, and loved exactly as you are.

That doesn’t mean life has been easy.

In August of 2009, I walked through the door after work one day and casually announced, “I’m quitting my job and going back to school.”

At the time, Maggie was 2 and Max was just 10 months old. Allyson very nearly died.

But that moment changed everything.

It was the beginning of my journey into educational theatre at MCC. I got a job working in the music office, started directing shows while finishing my undergrad, and slowly began building the life and career I have today.

In March of 2011, I hit the lowest low of my life and tried to end it. Thankfully, it didn’t work, and I am still here. I still deal with depression. I still have hard seasons. I still have moments where the darkness gets loud. But I also know now how to recognize the warning signs better than I used to. Not perfectly, but better. And when I’m struggling, one thought helps ground me: Someone out there feels better because you exist. Remember that.

And through all of it—all of it—Allyson has been there.

She has been more than my spouse. She has been my rock, my sounding board, my prayer warrior, my lifeline, the calm to my storm, the literal hand I’ve held to get through the day. She has stood by me through depression, anxiety, panic, heartbreak, healing, joy, growth, and more than one moment when it would have been easier for her to walk away.

But she didn’t.

She stayed.

She chose me.

Again and again and again.

Even when I made it so easy for her to go, she never did.

And somewhere along the way, through all of it, we found our rhythm.
We don’t just love each other—we actually like each other.
We’ve become partners in every sense of the word. Best friends. Soulmates.
And that… means everything.

Somewhere along the way, I also finished what I started.

I completed my undergraduate degree at ASU in 2012 (Go Devils!), went straight into a master’s in education with an emphasis in curriculum development and instructional design, and graduated in 2014.

Since then, I’ve co-authored a book called 100 Ways to Teach: Seven Elements of Effective Lesson Planning and went back for a second master’s degree in theatre directing.

Not too shabby for a two-time high school dropout, huh?

April 2026. Today. Twenty-seven years later… here we are.
Still choosing each other. Still learning. Still growing. Still standing side by side through whatever comes next. It hasn’t been easy—and it hasn’t been perfect—but it’s been real. And it’s been ours.

And if I had the chance to do it all over again… I’d still choose her.