Some things never change...

Most gay men tell how they knew their sexual inclinations early in life. I certainly knew mine. I was attracted to girls, but intrigued by boys and their parts so much like my own. Oh, I knew alright. I learned the word that best described me was "bisexual," and I reveled in its simplicity and the sexual freedom afforded to me.


Embellishing my obvious departure from the norm, I figured at least half of "bi" was "homo" and used that appellation to avoid getting shot to hell in Vietnam. In order to convince anyone else I was queer, though, I first had to convince myself...which was not at all difficult. Besides, I knew I really was queer, and who wants a queer in the army? I was doing them a favor.


Having previously enjoyed only schoolboy sex, though, I knew I had to experience the whole gamut of gay sex, and set out to accomplish just that. And of course, it worked. I now knew I had it in me to not only experience homosexual sex, I also knew I enjoyed it ever so much more than I expected. I was hooked and getting queerer by the day. I had no trouble convincing the army shrink I was too queer for cannon fodder.


Some years later, still clinging firmly to bisexuality but always slipping to an extreme on the scale, I more completely immersed myself in being gay. It was a time before AIDS when gay contact could be promiscuous, anonymous and so hot as to transport and transcend. It was also a time when homophobia was the paradigm and resided as well in my own head.


And so for some time I kind of forgot about all that hot male sex and committed to embrace by the opposite gender. But that wasn't to last. Oh no, because deep down, I knew...