These are some of my favorite things (that I have written)

Had I ever heard of same-sex attraction? Did homosexual or gay mean anything to me? Or queer, homo or fag, which I’d heard, shouted at school?

Oh boy! Oh joy! I'm gay

It wasn’t that boys wouldn’t approach me. I remember one sweet sissy who introduced himself by jumping in my lap and shoving his tongue into my mouth.

Meeting gay boys: Atlanta personal ads

The prospective male prostitutes were sent to the bathroom with rulers to measure their cocks. I made it clear that if they lied and the client didn’t want to pay it’d be their fault.

Peddling flesh in Atlanta

I remember being a little prig, disapproving of my schoolmates who used (oh this makes me blush) foul language. But I was a little prig anyway ...

I got saved!

In the almost vanished parlance of the time I was “butch” and almost all of them were “fem.” As gay men become visibly indistinguishable from hets they’ve divided themselves into tops and bottoms.

Nelly gay guys: a history of my love for them.

I think the old saw that we come from homes with a rough, domineering mom and a weakling father is still the most popular heterosexual prejudice.

Damn! I'm glad to be gay

The bulk of the men trying to date transvestites mostly boast that they are real men and talking about the magnificence of their penis. Ashamed of their sexuality, unable to admit they are attracted to men. Interestingly they seem most fascinated with the transvestite’s phallus. Meeting one of them is apt to be as romantic as a prison gang rape.