A Funny Thing

The love story of Peter Brash MCAS ’76 and James Lyness MCAS ’73, MGCAS ’75.

Fifty years ago on Valentine’s Day 1973, I was a painfully shy, closeted gay Boston College Theatre major. I didn’t have a boyfriend. A freshman commuter, I hadn’t made any friends at school. Somehow, I worked up my courage to audition for the ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝Â Dramatics Society’s spring production of Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1. I was cast in a tiny character role, and actually got a few laughs. After the first performance, I joined the cast in the green room (below our humble theatre-in-a-gym at Campion Hall) where well-wishers gathered. I was the wallflower in a crowded room. Suddenly, time seemed to stop for me when a tall, handsome, blond guy walked in. Totally gorgeous, he looked like Michael York in the movie Cabaret. I froze, too nervous to introduce myself, completely missing my chance to find out who he was.

For months, I could not get him out of my head. He became, quite literally, the man of my dreams. I never saw him again at school, so I figured we were never going to meet. Anyway, let’s be honest—he seemed completely out of my league.

Sophomore year, I kept auditioning. By spring, I got a supporting role in the musical, “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.” I was typecast as Hysterium, a high-strung, nervous wreck. In Act 2, Hysterium has to dress up as the leading lady, a beautiful young virgin, then play dead in drag at her fake funeral. I was an absolutely absurd-looking crossdresser which made my performance very funny. It was a hit. After the show, I walked on air into the green room. A new friend, Frank Arcaro, had seen the performance. He congratulated me and said, “Someone wants to meet you.” I was utterly shocked when I saw it was HIM—Michael York, or as Frank introduced him: Jimmy Lyness (my God, even his name was cute!). Jimmy said he enjoyed the show and called me super funny. From his look, I suddenly realized I was still wearing a loud yellow-chiffon gown. My heart sank. I had dreamed of this moment for a whole year, and I’d ruined our first meeting by showing up in a silly dress. It was irrational, but I felt defeated. Jimmy had already graduated; he was smart, mature, experienced, fun—a total catch. But that night I figured my chances of dating him were zero.

Afterwards, I thought maybe we could be platonic friends, so I stayed in touch with Jimmy. That summer, I convinced Jimmy to star in a local production of “No, No, Nannette” that I was producing. We needed a handsome, actor-singer-tap-dancer (yes, he was the whole package!). Luckily for me, Jimmy didn’t have a car at the time, so I got to drive him to and from rehearsals. One Friday night in late July, Jimmy was driving my dad’s VW Beetle around the reservoir near the ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ campus (I’d had several Mai Tais). And suddenly, he kissed me. That life-altering kiss seemed to last all the way back to Jimmy’s studio apartment near Cleveland Circle.

A few weeks later, Jimmy said he loved me and asked me to move in with him. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. It was like winning the lottery, getting a puppy for Christmas, and finding out how to fly like Peter Pan.

By September, my reputation in the Dramatics Society was trending: I had landed one of their most eligible alums. I even started to get leading roles.

Jimmy, always practical, began a graduate program at ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝, specializing in teaching mathematics. He convinced me to double major in English and theatre. A good call, considering my future career (Jimmy always makes good calls).

After I graduated and Jimmy finished his master’s degree, we moved to New York City together. We’ve been a couple ever since our ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ days (49 years this summer). Here’s the funny thing: Sometimes your dreams can come true—even if you start out wearing a super tacky, yellow chiffon gown.

In New York, I went on to a 30-year career as an Emmy Award-winning soap opera writer. Jimmy is a beloved long-time principal at a Jesuit high school in Manhattan. In 2001, he directed a student production of “A Funny Thing.” As the beautiful young virgin, he cast an amazingly talented musical performer. She went on to superstardom as Lady Gaga.

Jimmy made sure her gown was yellow-chiffon.

Beginnings at ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝

How the love story of Serena Entezary MCAS ’15 and Jaxx Entezary began with Boston College.

Although we went to different universities, my story with Jaxx really began (and continued) at Boston College. I was extremely in denial about the fact that I was gay. I like to say that I was so far in the closet that I was in Narnia. I didn’t want to admit to myself that throughout my time at ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝, I had been crushing on a female friend of mine, and another friend called me out on it. I was so in shock that my friend would even suggest such a thing! Me, a lesbian??!? (Now I look back and chuckle at the obliviousness.) My friend bluntly told me, “Why don’t you just try swiping right on girls?” And I said, indignant and upset, “FINE! I ****ing will!” I swiped right on a girl on Tinder, we matched, and it was what solidified the fact that yes, I was actually a lesbian. I ended up going on the Spectrum retreat, which was very eye-opening for me, and helped pull me out of the closet and live my most authentic life.

Anyways, I graduated from Boston College in 2015. I had trouble dating people for a long while because I had no idea how to just be chill—I was doing the classic “U-Hauling” thing that so many queer people may identify with. I was always told I was “too much.”  At one point, after years of failed date after failed date, I think I shut down to prevent myself from being “too much.”

I ended up going on OkCupid at one point in 2018. And I saw someone so beautiful, so remarkable, someone who described themself in a way that just kept me entertained and so excited to meet them. I started writing to them immediately, and then I received a message from them first! I had to delete my entire paragraph(s) I had been writing them.

We talked for a while that night and discovered we were both born and raised in Rhode Island! And we both did the same exact style of martial arts! And we both loved Avatar: The Last Airbender, my favorite TV show ever! The only downside was that they lied about their location—they said they were based in Providence, RI, but in reality, they were in Connecticut. So that was a bit daunting for someone based in Boston, but I ended up making a date with them regardless.

We talked a LOT before our first date. We connected over so much. We had so much in common and they didn’t think of me as “too much.” Instead, we were just right for each other. We had our first date at Providence Place Mall, where we went to play video games at Dave & Buster’s, which was absolutely amazing. We had a wonderful time. It was a magical first date.

I felt bad though—I still had had some other dates scheduled. I felt like I still had to give those other people a shot. After meeting Jaxx, I felt no spark with anyone else. Jaxx was all I could think about, and all I could talk about too, as I discovered when I was talking to someone I was on a date with. I told them, “I am so sorry, I’m not feeling any connection here.” And she nodded sagely, and told me, “You’re in love with someone else.” It was like a lightbulb went off. I realized Jaxx was the person I really just wanted to be with, no matter what.

We went on an incredible second date, where we went to our favorite places in RI—Beavertail Park in Jamestown for me, and the Temple to Music at Roger Williams Park for Jaxx. I remember at one point we held hands, and it was like—WOW.  I couldn’t believe how nervous I felt. It was something I’d never felt before.

I got really scared at the end of our second date, though. I felt like I really, really wanted to be with this person, but I wasn’t sure they were as into me as I was into them. And I wasn’t sure that it was going to work out. I was most likely just panicking about how much I was feeling for them; I wasn’t used to it.

Before getting on the train from Providence back to Boston, I told them that I wasn’t sure about what to do—that maybe it’d be better to be just friends. They cried. I cried. It was awful. But then as I sat on the train, I realized how stupid that was. We texted nonstop while I was on the train, we talked about our feelings, and then I called them after arriving back at Back Bay station and  we basically said how much we really cared for each other.

We had two weeks between our second and third date because my family and I went to Disney World. While I was in Disney, I couldn’t stop texting and talking to Jaxx. Everything else at the “Most Magical Place on Earth” didn’t matter. I got so many souvenirs for Jaxx and couldn’t be present with my family—I was just too excited about seeing Jaxx again.

On our third date, I ended up taking them from Back Bay station all the way to Boston College’s campus, mainly to show them how pretty it was there. We went to the memorial labyrinth where we walked around and around and just talked and talked. At one point, we sat down by the labyrinth outside of Burns Library. I couldn’t take it anymore. I blurted out, “Will you be my girlfriend?” (They are nonbinary but prefer female-gendered terms, using both she/they pronouns.) They said yes. We kissed for the first time. It was perfect.

Then I realized there had been an older man watching/glaring at us the whole time. But I really didn’t care, I was in absolute bliss.

Now after almost 5 years of being together—moving-in together (we U-Hauled, lol), getting engaged, making it through the lockdown, and all different sorts of life events, I look back fondly on our beginnings, and I have to thank my time at Boston College for bringing us together.

We now occasionally go back to Boston College for hockey games, especially the ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ vs. BU games (which are obviously the best ones)! Whenever ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ scores, we love to chant, “You suck! At life! And goaltending! It’s all your fault! It’s all your fault! It’s all your fault!” It’s always a great time.

Anyways, Jaxx and I now live in Rhode Island after living together in Cambridge for several years. We are close to our families and plan on holding our wedding reception at the very same Dave & Buster’s where we had our first date. We just got back from a trip to Disney World and this time, I didn’t have to text them, they were holding me while we watched the fireworks. That was truly wonderful.

Finding love at Boston College

Read how the love story of Matt Lane MCAS ’98 and Brian Soucek MCAS ’98 began at Boston College.

Little did I know that when I arrived at Boston College in the fall of 1994, I would meet my future husband.

Brian and I joined the University Chorale our first semester at ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝. Besides both being placed in the baritone section, we had little in common. Brian was a blond from Tulsa, a Presidential Scholar and brainiac, upper campus snob, and very (very) handsome. I’m from Connecticut, most likely accepted into ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ by the skin of my teeth, exiled on Newton Campus, and was (charmingly) roly-poly. But through the chorale and our shared sense of humor, we became fast friends.

Part of a larger web of an amazing group, we grew to become best friends, and roomed together our junior and senior years. We demonstrated our (at that point platonic) love by supporting each other at our respective performances—Brian was active in theatre productions and I was consumed by the Acoustics. Brian was there for me when I came home from Kairos. I was there for him when he made it to the finalist stage of the Rhodes Scholarship. We partied together, celebrating “guys nights” with our suitemates, and rooted for each other in our respective dating lives (with women at that point of our lives—OMG).

As many ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ relationships do, our friendship continued to grow stronger after we graduated. In the early 2000s, Brian made the trip up from where he was living in Upper Manhattan to Boston, where I had remained after graduation. We were celebrating a mutual friend’s birthday and he asked if I would stay around while the others jumped in cabs. It was then that Brian came out to me, telling me he was gay. Before I knew what I was saying, I blurted out, “I am too.” As if I had splashed cold water on my face, I gasped; I had never uttered those words out loud in my life. I even think I had buried it so deep that I may not have even uttered those words in my own words or prayers. (Side note: Brian still jokes that I made his coming out story all about me— classic Matt Lane).

Brian helped me come out, and for the next two years we were each other’s wingmen. I’d head to NYC or Brian would come to Boston, and we discovered what it meant to be gay—the dancing, the flirting, the insecurity, the finally feeling whole. Our ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ friends, universally supportive of us, cheered us on from the sidelines, but we relied on each other to fully come into our own—to see ourselves reflected in someone we cared so deeply for.

I fell in love with Brian. And he fell in love with me. What we had before had been a different kind of love, but it had shifted so beautifully to a place where we could see a future together. Twenty years ago, he asked me if I would be his boyfriend. Eight years later, we decided to get married. Our wedding was chock-full of ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ grads, almost entirely straight, who cheered for us, sang with us, danced with us, and treated us the way we deserved—deserve—to be treated.

Now, as we approach our 25th ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ reunion and our 13th wedding anniversary, I look at my blond (now more blondish-gray), Oklahoman, brainiac husband and can’t imagine my life any different or more joyous. We still sing showtunes by our piano like we did on the Casio keyboard on 43 South St. We still laugh about our college antics. We are the beloved Guncles of our ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ friends’ kids. I still watch ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ football while Brian tolerates it.

And I feel so blessed.

The Heights’ part in journey of love

Read how Daniel Gostin-Yong MCAS ’09, CSGOM ’18, time at Boston College played a role in meeting his future husband, Caleb Gostin-Yong

My husband Caleb and I have had a whirlwind international journey from dating to marriage, but the Heights play an important part in that adventure.

After finishing undergrad at ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ in 2009 and then living in Brookline while doing a master’s in music at BU (no judgement on the Terriers), I went to pursue research in musicology at Durham University in the UK. Experiencing the English collegiate life would come in handy later when I met Caleb, who was finishing his PhD at Oxford while I was over the pond (to add to the international charm, he’s originally from Singapore). However, we didn’t meet in Blighty, even though I did lead my college chapel choir on a tour to his Oxford College. I can only imagine he heard the singing from his room in the courtyard! I returned to Boston in 2015 after realizing a PhD wasn’t for me and began taking music gigs and other jobs, trying to figure out what I should do with my professional life.

While dog-sitting for a friend in Cambridge in June 2015, and singing a Sunday morning Mass at St Paul’s, I found myself wandering dating apps while having lunch near Harvard. Lo and behold, I stumbled upon a post-doc fellow who had come over from the UK. Wistful with recent memories of British life, I struck up an online conversation, which led to dinner plans a few days later. After having no luck with the dating scene in Northeast England for two years, I was hoping being back on terra firma in New England would boost my confidence. Caleb was such a smart, articulate, and serious person, but also so kind and witty. All my confidence went out the window in our first couple weeks of going on dates. It wasn’t until the end of June, after dinners and walks and Boston Pride and movies and introducing him to my friends, that Caleb told me he wasn’t long for Boston: he had already signed on to another post-doc fellowship in Germany starting in September. I couldn’t let him go that easily; there was something different about dating him than my previous relationships, something more easy, intimate, and caring. I drove him to the airport, uncertain of what would come next.

We talked every single day he was in Germany via text, messenger, or Skype. I was able to save enough to visit him at least three time during his two-year stint, during which we toured all over Germany. The first time I saw him, since months after he left Boston, was in Frankfurt in May, 2016. I waited the whole trip to ask what he thought of our relationship, not getting the courage to ask until he escorted me to the gate on my way back home. In his characteristic nonchalant way of talking about serious things, he said, “Of course we’re together, you don’t have to worry about that.”

From then on, I knew we’d be together forever. Though we had a solid romantic relationship, we were both at a crossroads in our professional lives, with Caleb applying to law schools for after his post-doc, and myself still uncertain. But it was Caleb who convinced me that business school was a worthwhile pursuit. Thankfully, ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ took me back, transitioning me into the financial world through CSOM’s master’s in accounting. After two years of business school for me, three years of law school in New Haven for him (another long-distance period, but one we could certainly weather after two years across an ocean!), trips back to Europe to see friends in the UK and for his summer internship in France, we had finally established a life for ourselves in Boston.

I proposed to Caleb at the start of the pandemic, on May 31, 2020, in the labyrinth outside Burns Library. I had just started working at ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ in the controller’s office (what a time to start a new job!) and I thought it was the perfect spot to combine my long tenure on the Heights with a hint of his Oxford days—Bapst tower is a replica of the tower at Merton College, Oxford (and Caleb is a huge fan of libraries). We had to wait until July 2022 for a full wedding celebration, but we returned to campus to take our wedding photos amid the classic collegiate style to which we’re both accustomed. Not many people say this, but it’s been lovely to not have to travel so much and be happy at home together.

We met the old fashioned way….on Tinder

How M.Scott Knox MCAS ’96 met his future husband, Jay.

In October 2017, I was in Washington, D.C. attending a work-related conference on ed reform. Working in education and the non-profit sector since graduating from ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ in 1996, a fully-paid conference trip was rare! During one of my free nights, I got online to see what the D.C. dating scene looked like. I had been single for a few years and was curious how the gay community showed up online in D.C. compared to Boston. As I swiped, a handsome man with warm, dark eyes and Pete Sampras-style eyebrows caught my attention (I’ve always been a sucker for thick eyebrows). With Tinder’s assistance, we chatted back and forth for an hour or so and decided to meet the following night.

The next evening, Jay and I met in-person. He was tall, more handsome in-person, and incredibly kind. We discovered many shared interests, including a mutual life goal to one day become a “gentleman farmer”—living on a few acres to garden and tend to a barn full of animals.

Jay shared that soon he’d be wrapping up nearly 15 years of life in D.C. to travel abroad. He was off to Southeast Asia for a few months: first to the Philippines to say goodbye to his ailing grandmother, and then on to Thailand to finish writing a book he had been working on. After that, he was headed home to the U.S. to participate in a fellowship on regenerative agriculture. As a nutritional therapist, Jay subscribed to “healthy soil, healthy plants, healthy people” and wanted to bring his knowledge right down to the ground. Literally. Jay was on a quest to understand how we make the vegetables we eat as nutrient-rich as possible while also strengthening the health and vitality of farm soil organically.

As someone who has held a life-time enthusiasm for gardening, I was smitten. And fortunately for me, Jay also felt a spark. At the same time, both of us were old enough—Jay was 39 and I was 43—to recognize that a) we had just met and really didn’t know one another yet, and b) that our lives were taking us in different paths for the foreseeable future. We ended the evening each thinking, “great guy, bad timing.”

As Jay set off on his travels abroad, I remained curious and would occasionally message him on Facebook to find out what he was up to. He shared that he got to spend time with his grandmother before she passed. She was his ‘Lola’ who had a vision for her four children—Jay’s mom, aunts, and uncle—to emigrate from the Philippines to the U.S. in the 1970’s on occupational visas prioritized for nurses and engineers. Jay also updated me that he finished his book, a collection of habits and tips accessible for any reader to create a healthy lifestyle. Among life updates, I let him know that I’d made the decision to leave my current job at the end of the school year for the next professional chapter. It was a big deal to move on from a community of teachers and students in Boston whom I loved, but I was also ready for a new challenge.

Eventually, months later Jay landed back in the U.S. and began his fellowship at the esteemed Rodale Institute on a farm in rural Pennsylvania. Back in the same time zone, we decided to catch-up on the phone. It had been six months since we heard one another’s voice. By the second phone call, we agreed we still felt a connection and we decided to meet up in NYC, about half-way for each of us. As two adults, we discussed that our weekend-long date could be just a fun time for both of us, or if there was something we wanted to explore further by the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, we’d talk about it. We knew that both were possibilities and that was ok. We set a date, found a hotel room to share, and began talking about what types of food we wanted to eat in New York!

Four weeks later, we both arrived in NYC and started our extended date on Friday April 20, 2018. I traveled down on the train and we met on the sidewalk outside of Penn Station. Nearly five years later, I still remember what Jay was wearing, the baseball cap he had on, and that he smelt a little earthy (I thought that was sexy!). By Sunday afternoon, we felt the same way: we didn’t want our time together and our connection to end. Before leaving New York, we took out our calendars and we decided Jay would travel to Boston for Memorial Day Weekend. Over that summer, we never went more than two weeks without seeing one another—meeting up in either Boston or in Kunztown, PA. That summer, plants grew, love blossomed…yada, yada, yada! By late fall and the end of the fellowship, Jay had made the decision to follow his heart and move to Boston.

Today, we live together in the Highland Park neighborhood of Roxbury, and this April, Jay and I will celebrate our 5th anniversary. While we’re not ready to leave the city for a house with a barn yet, we do have a beehive in our small yard (we named the queen ‘Beevie Nicks’), and as part of Jay’s job at Haley House, he oversees the urban agriculture program which includes ⅔ acre farm that is directly behind our home. We talk regularly about our future farm and occasionally discuss if we should get goats or sheep. We agree on chickens, and go back and forth on whether to get a pig or not. For right now, however, our immediate planning and saving is focused on our wedding scheduled for April 2024!

A Funny Thing

The love story of Peter Brash MCAS ’76 and James Lyness MCAS ’73, MGCAS ’75.

Fifty years ago on Valentine’s Day 1973, I was a painfully shy, closeted gay Boston College Theatre major. I didn’t have a boyfriend. A freshman commuter, I hadn’t made any friends at school. Somehow, I worked up my courage to audition for the ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝Â Dramatics Society’s spring production of Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1. I was cast in a tiny character role, and actually got a few laughs. After the first performance, I joined the cast in the green room (below our humble theatre-in-a-gym at Campion Hall) where well-wishers gathered. I was the wallflower in a crowded room. Suddenly, time seemed to stop for me when a tall, handsome, blond guy walked in. Totally gorgeous, he looked like Michael York in the movie Cabaret. I froze, too nervous to introduce myself, completely missing my chance to find out who he was.

For months, I could not get him out of my head. He became, quite literally, the man of my dreams. I never saw him again at school, so I figured we were never going to meet. Anyway, let’s be honest—he seemed completely out of my league.

Sophomore year, I kept auditioning. By spring, I got a supporting role in the musical, “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.” I was typecast as Hysterium, a high-strung, nervous wreck. In Act 2, Hysterium has to dress up as the leading lady, a beautiful young virgin, then play dead in drag at her fake funeral. I was an absolutely absurd-looking crossdresser which made my performance very funny. It was a hit. After the show, I walked on air into the green room. A new friend, Frank Arcaro, had seen the performance. He congratulated me and said, “Someone wants to meet you.” I was utterly shocked when I saw it was HIM—Michael York, or as Frank introduced him: Jimmy Lyness (my God, even his name was cute!). Jimmy said he enjoyed the show and called me super funny. From his look, I suddenly realized I was still wearing a loud yellow-chiffon gown. My heart sank. I had dreamed of this moment for a whole year, and I’d ruined our first meeting by showing up in a silly dress. It was irrational, but I felt defeated. Jimmy had already graduated; he was smart, mature, experienced, fun—a total catch. But that night I figured my chances of dating him were zero.

Afterwards, I thought maybe we could be platonic friends, so I stayed in touch with Jimmy. That summer, I convinced Jimmy to star in a local production of “No, No, Nannette” that I was producing. We needed a handsome, actor-singer-tap-dancer (yes, he was the whole package!). Luckily for me, Jimmy didn’t have a car at the time, so I got to drive him to and from rehearsals. One Friday night in late July, Jimmy was driving my dad’s VW Beetle around the reservoir near the ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ campus (I’d had several Mai Tais). And suddenly, he kissed me. That life-altering kiss seemed to last all the way back to Jimmy’s studio apartment near Cleveland Circle.

A few weeks later, Jimmy said he loved me and asked me to move in with him. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. It was like winning the lottery, getting a puppy for Christmas, and finding out how to fly like Peter Pan.

By September, my reputation in the Dramatics Society was trending: I had landed one of their most eligible alums. I even started to get leading roles.

Jimmy, always practical, began a graduate program at ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝, specializing in teaching mathematics. He convinced me to double major in English and theatre. A good call, considering my future career (Jimmy always makes good calls).

After I graduated and Jimmy finished his master’s degree, we moved to New York City together. We’ve been a couple ever since our ĂŰĚŇ´ŤĂ˝ days (49 years this summer). Here’s the funny thing: Sometimes your dreams can come true—even if you start out wearing a super tacky, yellow chiffon gown.

In New York, I went on to a 30-year career as an Emmy Award-winning soap opera writer. Jimmy is a beloved long-time principal at a Jesuit high school in Manhattan. In 2001, he directed a student production of “A Funny Thing.” As the beautiful young virgin, he cast an amazingly talented musical performer. She went on to superstardom as Lady Gaga.

Jimmy made sure her gown was yellow-chiffon.

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