Best Gay Birthday Present Ever

What do you get an 18-year-old for his birthday ... if you're cool parents ... and your son is gay?

How about surprising him with 12 singers from the Chicago Gay Men's Chorus?

That's what one birthday boy got, and here's a firsthand account of what it was like to be one of the men serenading him.

The story is from Jake, a member of the chorus and also the author of NoFo, one of my favorite daily blog reads. Yes, it's obvious that he's a hottie, but that's just a manifestation of the smart, loving and witty observer of life that he is.

If you can get through Jake's story and not tear up or get chills, well, you and I can probably never be friends.

Check out this excerpt, then head over to NoFo to read the whole thing, including the lyrics of the Sondheim song that mattered most to Jake. It's worth the trip.

"Last night was a private party. But it wasn't the kind of party whose hosts you'd expect would bring in a group of gay men for musical entertainment. It was a birthday party. For a gay 18-year-old. And the hosts were his parents, who hired us to surprise him.

The party -- in a private dining room at a restaurant -- was in full swing when we arrived, and we marched in with the cake, singing in 12-part harmony as our surprise entrance. The birthday boy, who was a fan of ours, recognized us immediately. The look on his face was priceless.

He sat there as we sang, lost in his own reverie, his eyes closed and a half smile on his face, basking in the music and the obvious love of friends and family members who had spent the evening helping him celebrate.

And as I stood there, a gay man among a choir of gay men, hired by the parents of an out and proud gay teen to help him celebrate his birthday, I marveled at how far we've come in my lifetime alone. I watched his parents, who were obviously pleased with the love they had created in their family and had spread among their friends and community. I watched his friends, who were enthralled by our music instead of cracking jokes at our expense. I watched the wait staff, who stealthily delivered slices of cake between songs so as not to interrupt our performance. I watched the world changing. For the better.

And when we got to 'Our Time,' a song of promise and hope and great optimism for the future -- a song the boyfriend and I intend to have sung at our wedding, with the hope that by the time we get married our relationship will enjoy the same legal and social standing of heterosexual relationships -- I couldn't make any sound.

I had found the one thing among everything that's happened over the last few months that could break my composure. It wasn't being fired. It wasn't staying relentlessly upbeat through endless interviews and waiting games and thank-you-but-we-aren't-hiring-right-nows. It wasn’t living in temporary housing and wondering if I'd held onto enough winter clothing when I put everything I own in the world in storage.

It was love. Love that transcends a hostile zeitgeist. Love that eclipses legal and judicial discrimination. Love that outmoralizes a nation's self-appointed morality police.

It IS our time."