Lately I have been collecting evidence that I find, frankly, a bit disturbing. By fate or nurture or plain old genetics I am a heterosexual - I love the ladies and, as long as I have good credit and a collection of business cards from escort services in the tri-state area, they love me right back - but I have come to understand that sometimes I might seem a bit, um, gay to others. While this has never been a serious handicap for me and I am by no means attempting to piggyback myself on the homosexual experience, it is nevertheless puzzling to me. I have an awful sense for these things - I usually won't think another man is gay unless he does one of the following:

A) Tells me explicitly that he is gay

B) Speaks in an outrageously exaggerated effete manner (like the late truman capote or that former center-square marionette, Madame)

C) Wears the "#1 Homosexual" locket or charm bracelet which have both been officially sanctioned by the North American Openly Gay Male Fellowship (N.A.O.G.M.F.)


Living in new york has helped me to refine my powers of sexual perception but it hasn't helped me to escape the embarrassing scrutiny of others. I decided to do a little soul-searching on the subject, but then I became bored, then restless and a bit hungry so I ate some Fiddle Faddle (with almonds) and sat down to write this. And, in writing this, I have pieced together some things I know about myself which may (or may not) contribute to occasional speculation about my sexual orientation. Either way, I know I'm not gay. (Note my last-minute, paranoid disclaimer typical of a closeted homosexual) Nonetheless, it seems the evidence is mounting…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

all these words © 1999 todd levin.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

write on, girlfriend!
hooray for sissies! i'm the shy boy, you're the fly boy... show me you care.