I Had to Say Something (29 page)

I was grateful that he asked the congregation to “forgive [his] accuser” and “thank him.” But why did I need forgiveness? Were people supposed to forgive me for being gay? For being an escort? For being honest?

I would have preferred if Ted had said, “Please forgive my hypocrisy. Mike was right. If two consenting adults who love each other, who want to share a life and grow old together want to get married, they should have that right with no exceptions.”

POSTSCRIPT

Election day 2006 was just two days after Ted's letter was read to the New Life congregation. Denver was having a major problem with their voting machines, and I wound up spending three hours in line waiting to vote.

Fewer voters appeared to have cast votes based on so-called morals issues, such as same-sex marriage, than they did two years before in 2004. Colorado had two initiatives on the ballot in 2006. The effort to change the Colorado constitution to limit marriage to a man and a woman passed, and an effort to legalize domestic partnerships failed. Because of what I did just days before the election, many people, including many gays, blamed me for the outcome of those ballot initiatives. That's impossible. The votes weren't even close on both issues, so to blame someone like me is nothing short of scapegoating. Ironically, the same people who blamed me didn't give me any credit for helping the Democrats return to power, including the Democrat who was elected governor of Colorado.

After Ted resigned and left town for reparative therapy, or whatever it was he was doing, I still found myself in the spotlight. Media outlets like CNN and
People
magazine all wanted to interview me. I was determined to talk with everyone who asked, no matter how large or small their audience. Even at the polls, people wanted to talk with me, and I wanted to ensure that we had time for discussion.

I spent election night in Colorado Springs. A local radio station wanted me on the air the next morning, so they put me up at a hotel. When I checked in, the clerk asked me if I was “the” Mike Jones. I said, “That depends.” I was still feeling defensive, and I was in Ted Haggard's backyard. The clerk went on to tell me that he was a member of New Life Church, and he thanked me for what I did. I graciously accepted his thanks, shook his hand, and went to my room to rest.

Even in Colorado Springs, the overwhelming majority of people I spoke with were supportive of what I did. Many members of New Life called the radio station the following morning when I was doing the live show. I found it odd that they were thanking me for exposing Ted Haggard. One minute they believe everything he says, and the next minute they want nothing to do with him. Still, their comments to me were sincere, and even my critics were almost all courteous and thoughtful. Some even invited me to come down to New Life Church, promising that my reception would be warm.

A couple of months before the election, a documentary called
Jesus Camp
opened in theaters across the country. Ted Haggard was featured prominently, pointing to the camera and saying his now-infamous line: “I think I know what you did last night. If you send me a thousand dollars, I won't tell your wife.” When the DVD was released in January 2007, it contained extra footage of Ted Haggard. The movie was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature. It's a good documentary, and I was proud to have helped it get a wider audience.

Naturally, I did get some troubling calls on my home phone:

“You will not live to see tomorrow.”

“Hey Punk, you made a big, big mistake.”

“You live in Capitol Hill of Denver, and me and my friends want to meet you [and] play a little baseball. You just show up, and we'll bring the bats.”

But I also got an overwhelming amount of wonderful e-mails:

Judy in North Carolina wrote, “You're our hero. If I were your mother, I would be so proud of you. Heck, I am anyway.”

A man named Brad wrote, “You did a good thing, and did more to help the Dems than anyone else I can think of this election. I know you're going through hell, but I think the silent majority really thinks what you did is great.”

The correspondence from all over the world really moved me. I never realized how many people are touched—or hurt—by religious organizations.

In Denver, I suddenly found myself being recognized wherever I went. I would be stopped at my local grocery store and coffee shop. Some would say thank you, some would just say hello. I had people at my gym use their cell phones to take pictures of me doing my workout. People would come up to my table at lunch and say thank you. Even construction workers approached me to say they'd seen me on television.

My mug became even more popular after the
People
magazine story about Ted and me came out. “The Preacher and the Prostitute” seemed to be all over the place. A clerk at my local grocery store even asked me to autograph it.

Technically, the Denver Police Department still has an open investigation on what happened between Ted Haggard and me. Investigators even came to talk with me once. They had no warrant, however, and I haven't heard from them since. Many interviewers have said that they felt that either I or Ted or both had committed a crime.

Even though she was the second reporter I contacted about my affair with Ted, Patricia Calhoun didn't write an article until after Ted had resigned. “I got fucked by a male escort” was the opening line of her editorial. She wasn't happy about having to run a story after every other media outlet in the world had run something. She was the first, however, to reveal that Ted had bought a variety of sex toys, accessories, and DVDs at a local gay fetish store. She told me there were no hard feelings. That's just how it is in the news business, she said. A month later, in December, she made my picture the cover of her year-end Best of 2006 edition. I was Baby New Year, wearing nothing but a diaper and a top hat.

I walked into the local coffee shop one morning and out of nowhere, this man handed me his cell phone to talk with Jerry Wade, one of Ted Snowden's associates. I had no idea who Ted and Jerry were, but right there, this man offered to fly me to New York to attend the opening night of his Broadway comedy,
The Little Dog Laughed
, starring Johnny Galecki, who first gained fame as a teenager on the TV show
Roseanne
.

I was going to be in New York anyway to tape a television show, so I said sure. It proved to be the experience of a lifetime.

There I was standing on the red carpet along with a host of celebrities. Lisa Kudrow. Tommy Tune. Cindy Adams from Page Six of the
New York Post
was there, and she wanted some details about my relationship with Ted Haggard that I hadn't told anyone else yet. It was overwhelming, as you can imagine, but it was also wonderful. I was being treated like a celebrity.

As I watched the play, I noticed the similarities between the show and my life. Johnny Galecki, who played the male
escort, charged his clients two hundred dollars a session. There was a reference to an unseen character named Arthur. The term rent boy was used in the play, and I used to advertise on
Rentboy.com
. It was basically my life on stage. Thank goodness the theater lights weren't on me, or the whole world would have seen me cry. There was a cast party after the show at Planet Hollywood, and that's where I was fortunate enough to meet my current literary agent, Don Farber, and his wife, Annie.

Even walking down the streets of New York, people stopped me. Young and old, white and black. Almost all said thank you, and none were disrespectful. Some even compared me to David taking down Goliath. That's not how I would describe how I felt, but I am very happy I was embraced and not shunned by the media and its viewers. During that trip, I was also filmed as part of Dan Hunt's documentary called
FROLIC
about what happens when gay men confront and work through issues related to shame and internalized homo-phobia.

Also in November, I flew to Florida for a photo shoot for a David Leddick coffee-table book about male escorts. He was about to wrap up the book when my story broke. Moving quickly, he called me and asked if I would come down to Florida for a nice winter vacation and spend a few hours posing for his book. I jumped on the opportunity to get away and relax for a few days. It was enjoyable and rewarding.

After my story broke, almost all my income dried up. Understandably, all the married men who saw me for massage stopped calling, fearful that they would be falsely exposed. But the rest of my regular massage and weight-training clients stopped calling, too. I understand their hesitancy, but I was taken aback when the Colorado Art Institute no longer
wanted me to model for their classes. At one point in November, I was not sure how I would pay my December bills, much less have money for the Christmas season. Rumors that I would be evicted circulated as well.

Joe Jervis of
JoeMyGod.blogspot.com
writes a popular blog from his New York apartment. Hearing of my financial distress, he organized an online campaign whereby people could send me money via a PayPal account. His premise was simple: Mike brought down one of the most powerful antigay preachers in the world, and now he needs help. Within days, Dan Savage had posted it on his Savage Love column at the Seattle newspaper
The Stranger
, and people sent me enough money to cover my December bills, like rent and telephone. In addition, I was deemed Queer of the Year by his readers. I also was one of
The Advocate
's People of the Year for 2006.

Long after the holidays, people still sent me money, along with personal notes, many of which were deeply moving.

I received fifty dollars from Ken of New York City, who wrote, “Please accept this modest offering as my way of saying thank you so much for doing what you did. I can't imagine the amount of courage it took for you to do so.”

Susan of California, who sent me ten dollars, wrote, “Thank you so much. I'm sure your brave action was a contributing factor to the Republicans losing the House and Senate.”

Shortly after that, I was able to sign a deal with Seven Stories Press to produce the book you are now reading.

All the wonderful e-mails and calls I received were from individuals who took the time and effort to tell me how they felt about me, and it was nothing short of wonderful. Yet I found it ironic and a bit sad that no gay organizations tried to contact me. I could have used some help, to be sure. I
would have loved to have heard from the Human Rights Campaign or other gay groups. When I tried to make contact with them, I was snubbed. Perhaps I would have been treated differently if I had been something more “legitimate” than an escort.

Things changed in December, when the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force called to ask if I would be their guest of honor at a small fund-raiser in a private home in New York. I accepted the offer, thankful that at least one gay group was reaching out to me. I got the chance to tell my story to a small group of lesbians and gays, something I'd still like to do today. That night, they pulled in 150 people, more than triple the number that had attended last year's function. By taking a risk, it paid off handsomely for NGLTF. I was happy to do my part, and I got to visit New York again.

 

As I started writing more, I became more curious about the church that Ted Haggard built. Despite many friends' sincere concern for my safety, I drove down to New Life for a visit in late January 2007. I had let the pastors know that I would be coming. I went by myself.

As I drove, my mind started to wander. How would they react to me? Would they ignore me? Would they say hateful things to me? Would they be welcoming? I really had no idea what I might encounter, but if anyone thought I was going to hide or be afraid, they did not know me.

I arrived around eight on a Sunday morning, just before their nine o'clock service. I was not expected until around 8:45, so I waited in my car for a few minutes before deciding to get up and stroll around the grounds. I walked over to the World Prayer Center, where a huge spinning globe greeted me inside. Nothing really stood out except a couple of paintings
I saw as homoerotic. A few people passed by, but no one seemed to recognize me.

It was half an hour before the service, so I made my way to the main entrance of the church. As I approached, I could see a few heads turn, but I pretended that I didn't notice and headed for the bookstore, which was immediately inside the entrance. I could find none of Ted Haggard's books for sale. In fact, I could not find any reference to Ted whatsoever.

As the crowd grew, one by one, people started to recognize my face. I was prepared for just about anything, including venom. Instead, people began to approach me to say hello and to shake my hand. And to my surprise, they were saying thank you. The most frequent comment I heard was, “Thank you, Mike, for exposing the deception that we were experiencing for so many years.” I was taken aback and said you're welcome. Many ended the conversation by saying, “God bless you.”