Full Frontal Prudity

While it may seem like dull college work, selling comic books can be more dangerous than expected. This month in Georgia a case was finally dropped against a comic shop owner who let a mature comic fall into the hands of minor back in 2004. The comic in question had a panel of an angry, naked Picasso answering the door in a true story of the artist's life, and was unfortunately put into a box of free comics that were handed out at a local parade. Even more unfortunate, the comic was given to a family of two boys, nine and six-years-old. As soon as the parents saw a penis in their boys' comic, they phoned the police, and the owner was charged with two felonies and five misdemeanors when the parents wouldn't just accept a formal apology. Luckily for Gordon Lee, the owner in question, the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, a non-profit group made for just such occasions, came to his rescue to cover all legal expenses, which reached nearly $100,000 in the battle. After plenty of delays and re-trials the case has finally been dropped and Legends Comics is still in business. It hit me pretty close to home for a number of reasons. One, my boss is the director of the CBLDF, a man who I never knew I had anything in common with besides a fondness for comics. Two, I know how easily a mature title can get mixed up with kids books. There's a lot of stuff in storage and it's a mess, and in the years I've worked there and all the parades I've been in, I know I've probably handed at least one "mature" title to a kid, but thank God it didn't have male nudity. Which brings me to my last point.

The legend of "fan-service", up-skirt or down-shirt shots of girls for the teen male audience, is not unfounded, especially in superhero comics that are acceptable for any age. Personally, it's always been amusing to me and it's perfectly harmless as long as you don't mind the demeaning of women. Recently Alan Moore, the eccentric comic-writer god, published a very controversial but highly praised comic called Lost Girls, that he himself has plainly described as pornography, a realm that he explored the same way he did with superheroes in Watchmen, and terrorism in V for Vendetta. And despite the fact that the three girls in the comic are 14-16 years old, no one but the odd kook seems to have a problem with it and it's generally stayed under the public radar. And yet, I can remember a comic that came out less than a year after called Spider-man Reign. The story takes place in the far future, where widowed 80-year-old Peter Parker must wear the mask one last time in a battle against the totalitarian dystopia of New York. The years and Mary Jane's death haven't been kind on him and his glory days are gone and forgotten. Yet as he falls asleep in a rat-infested hole, he sees only his angelic wife sleeping beside him. But when morning comes he wakes up alone, cold and naked. As he slowly aches out of bed you see a tiny, non-descript, flaccid 80-year-old lump. Because Marvel received so many complaints, the title became mature and the offending penis was removed from all future prints. The fact that enough people, primarily men, were determined to change a sad old Spider-man into a Ken Doll truly frightens me. I mean, is the human body itself really pornography? Doesn't the context have any say? Would we take off David's penis if we got the chance or clothe the Spirit of Justice without giving thought to why she's naked to begin with? (That last one was a trick question, John Ashcroft already did!)

Sex is normal. And not just normal but natural and beautiful and pleasurable. The human body is a marvel of engineering and architecture, and another sign of the beauty of nature or God's own image. Most children see a naked member of the opposite sex before middle school, whether it's their sibling, parent, or just from playing doctor. Nearly everyone already knows the story of the Birds and the Bees before their parents actually tell it. And unless you're married, you probably lost your virginity before your parents accepted it, even if you were 40. These are all universal moments of discovery that cannot be stopped or unlearned, so kids should be allowed to experience it and talk about it, especially with their parents. But the only way that's ever going to happen is if all taboos are open for discussion and not judgment. I know because my parents were on opposite sides of the spectrum. My dad was a paranoid schizophrenic born and raised Baptist, while my mom was a self-confessed nymphomaniac. My dad talked to me once about sex and once about homosexuality, the entire context of which can be summed up in 3 words, "Don't do it." So I'd talk to my mom instead, and while her openness would probably bother others, I'd say it's one of the reasons I'm as normal and fairly well-adjusted as I am. I could talk to her about anything, and I did, something that a lot of parents only wish they could say. Because my mom taught me about sex and all it's benefits and risks, I never had unprotected sex or got anyone pregnant or anything stupid. But because of my dad's overt reactions to sex, I spent years of confusion and pain trying to come up with any answer to my sexuality other than the simplest, I'm just gay. Luckily, because of my mom's open mind, I was able to slowly chip away at years of hatred to reveal my true self. And while the thought of a gay son may terrify some, at least I'm also a happy, loving, and trusting son.

It may just be my perception, but anti-porn rules usually end up being used to enforce anti-gay sentiment. My first encounter with this was in my home town of less than 30,000. The only real book store was two miles from my house, but well worth the trip. It was huge, had a coffee house to read in, and a more diverse selection than the local library. Around the same time that Pokemon Tournaments filled the cafe every Saturday some new titles were added that got the attention of the church and myself. In the Erotic section were two books about homosexuality. Books, meaning with little or no pictures. A week later in church we got to hear about the "pornography" that was being peddled by the Books-A-Million, and urged to boycott them until they removed it. Just think of the children! And Books-A-Million did, they moved the Erotic section to an area of the store that could be roped off for adults only, but it turns out that wasn't enough. That's when the real ugliness came out. It wasn't ever about the Erotic section, they just wanted those faggot books out of their town. But the book store didn't budge. They refused to be bullied or censored. They defiantly stood up for their customers, even if they were hated in this tiny town. So, of course, they shut down a few years later. It was the first time I can ever remember actually hating a church. Books were my lifeline, and all because of one belief they took them away from me and everyone else, just to protect us from the gays. In Indiana a new law has been passed that makes it a felony to sell "sexually explicit material" to anyone under 13. Not just pornography, but theoretically sex-ed books, books on Greek mythology, the law has no concrete definition. Nobody's been hit with it yet, and the local booksellers are already taking it to the Supreme Court, but you can bet that if some kid sees a penis, some heads are going to roll.

I can't force anyone to accept sex as a normal part of life. And I would never want to, it should be something you discover on your own. But on the same side, don't tie up our courts over trivial bullshit and start a witch hunt over people who appreciate literature and respect individual choice. If you're really worried about what your kids are reading then why not talk to them about it. Explain to them with solid arguments why something is unacceptable and then let them defend it. If it's forbidden it'll just be more tempting to defy you and read behind your back. I suppose if your goal in life is to raise sheltered, naive, sexually-neutered children that's your business. But it's not the government's job, it's not the publisher's job, it's not the clerk's job, it's your job. And if you find your son looking at a penis despite all your efforts, it's your own damn fault.

A brief discussion with God.

Dorian...Dorian...Dorian! Are you listening to Me? It is I, God, your Lord and Creator.

Wow! God? Like, capital G God? I always figured You were really just a creation of Man.

Would you put that bong down for two seconds and listen to Me or am I going to have to start burning bushes?

Okay, I'm sorry. What is it?

Well, frankly it's this whole "gay" thing. See, according to scripture I'm afraid that you're a sinner.

Well of course I am. We all are. You're the one who created me, aren't You?

What did I just finish telling you? Yes! All of the human race was created in My image.

Well then, I have to ask, why did You make me gay? Why did You make a tenth of the world gay for that matter?

Shit! I mean, that's no different than babies that are born addicts. You see, it all goes back to Original Sin...I think.

Sorry, but it's going to take more than that to convince me.

Well, you just better hope I don't go Sodom and Gomorrah on your ass! After all, they were gay! Weren't they?

I don't know. The Bible's so vague that they could be anything. The only specific thing I've ever heard mentioned is that they were hellbent on raping people, not that they were gay. Don't You remember? You were pretty biblical with them.

Not really. That was all so long ago. And I had a lot of anger issues before My Son was born. Oh, but what about "Thou shalt not lay with a man as thou lay with a woman?" That's in the Bible, isn't it?

Yeah, something like that, but I've got news for You, God. The way I lay with a man is completely different from the way I lay with a woman. I don't even lay with women. Seems to me that You're just telling the bisexuals to make up their damn minds.

Watch your language.

Sorry, God.

Anyway, that's not the point. If you have sex with a man than you can't have babies. And without babies how are we going to populate the earth? It's a waste of seed, and I know that's a sin.

Uh, God? Give or take, how many people were walking around when You wrote the Bible?

I don't know, maybe a few hundred million? Why, how many are there now?

I think we're on our way to 7 billion right now.

7 billion! How did you even fit that many people on there?

Well, we crammed a lot of them into China and India. So what are You saying? We've successfully populated the earth?

Populated? Of course. It's over -populated! No wonder I've always got a headache, all those people down there...

So would You say that my seed is probably unneeded at this time?

Unneeded? It's downright dangerous! I didn't make enough resources to support that kind of growth. We don't need seed, we need a harvest!

Well, before You start declaring the Apocalypse, how about this? Since we can't make kids, we'll adopt the unwanted ones and try to even things out. That is, as long as You don't mind that the kids are growing up with two dads.

Honestly, I can't even keep track anymore. There's kids with no parents, kids with one parent, kids with two pairs of parents...They're all equally screwed up, so what's the difference?

Wow, thanks God! So it's okay if I'm gay?

Sure, have sex with men. What do I care? After all, Eve was just a last resort I pulled out of Adam's--

Well, I'm sure You need to get going soon but I just have one more question. Is it okay for me to get married too?

Well, I would hope you at least try to for the sake of the child. Look, Marriage is a commitment, not some magical ritual that's going to make everything alright. If you're not meant to be married than you won't be for very long.

Sorry, God. Just one last question. What about AIDS? Did You make AIDS to kill gay people?

Look, that thing came from somebody having sex with a monkey. If you have sex with someone who has sex with monkeys, then at least protect yourself. I didn't create you people to be stupid.

Well actually, a lot of people say that protected sex is a sin. You know, goes back to that whole "waste of seed" thing.

Ugh. Give Me strength. Look, Dorian, I hate to show up, condemn you, forgive you and leave; but it looks like I've got my work cut out for Me for a while.

Oh no, I understand. Thanks for clearing everything up. I'll try to pray more often and go to church if You want.

It's no problem. Just be good and try not to be a dick to anybody and we're cool. Later, man.

Later, God.

Double Standards

"There are an awful lot of gays in comics these days."

It's not quite how I would put it but my customers are right. Ever since we've been allowed to get married and be on television, comic characters have started coming out. Nobody famous and obvious, like Batman or Wonder Woman, another rant for another time. Instead, DC created Batwoman, the love interest of Renee Montoya, a former cop for Gotham City. Marvel's biggest gay names are Wiccan & Hulkling and the Ultimate version of Colossus. When I first learned about all these gay characters in comics I became excited and started grabbing any appearance I could find. But something was seriously off. The relationships are far from physical, romantic, or even normal. Not once have I seen two gay characters say, "I love you," or kiss or even hold hands. Lesbians can get away with physical affection, but only because it's considered a "fan service". It seems to me that either there are no gay writers (*cough, cough*) or the public is trying to include the homo without the sex.

There's plenty of gay characters on TV. They fix hair, act effeminate for cheap laughs and occasionally get angry at the world, but no one seems to want to let the cat out of the bag that we're actually surprisingly normal. No, just focus on the stereotypes. Nevermind that we date, love and, yes, fuck just like everyone else. That makes some people uncomfortable. So instead, we become some kind of creepy, neutered, sexless gender. If a boy and girl kiss it's not even worth a PG rating at the box office, but as soon as two boys get involved it's lucky if you can keep it at R. Flash all the girls' boobs you want, we'll make sure the 17-year-olds get their fill. But if there's any male nudity, you'd better be ready to start promoting at venues with "Adult" in the name. It takes me back to high school, when our theatre caused an uproar by producing a gay farce. One of the boys pretends to be a girl so his parents won't know he's gay, hilarity ensues, etc. We were allowed to do it, but under strict guidelines from the school board:

1. No physical contact lasting more than 3 seconds.
2. No kissing of any kind.
3. No hands allowed below or on the waist.
4. Hugging is acceptable, provided that both pairs of arms are kept at shoulder level.
5. While seated, a hand may be placed on the knee, but not around the shoulder.
6. No distasteful gesturing of any kind will be tolerated.

Now, was any of this enforced on the straight couple? Of course not. Hell, they had a make-out scene on top of the kitchen counter if I remember correctly. Though that was partly our director's way of getting a dig at the school board. And did they have any objections to dressing in drag? No, because it's funny. Well, I've got news for the world. Not only do gays do everything, and I mean everything, that breeders do, we do more than most would dare to even dream. Just something to think about when you start feeling progressive just for having a minor gay character. We're not impressed and you're not learning anything until sex is allowed to be a part of homosexuality.

Biblical Ravings

When asked about Christianity I always say, "I love Jesus, just not religion." God has had a powerful impact on my life whether he actually exists or not. The belief that there was always someone who would love me for who I was got me through some hard times in childhood, but the Church and it's goers have always pushed me away for one reason or another: divorced parents, playing an instrument, asking questions and of course, being gay. The mob mentality of churches and organized religion in general seems counter-intuitive. Let's not forget that Jesus was a rebel, hated by many of his own faith for questioning old ways, rejecting obsolete rules, and establishing a personal relationship with God. Whether or not he was actually the son of God is irrelevant; we are all the son of God, after all. But saying so made him a blasphemer and a heretic and a dead man. And the sad thing is we're still crucifying each other every day.

The most fundamental and important story of the Bible, in my opinion, is often glanced over as merely a creationist fairy tale with no real lessons to be learned. Adam and Eve are used to teach about the evils of temptation and the consequences they carry. God said don't eat the fruit, Eve did anyway, God got mad and threw them out. The real lesson, however, is that we are not fit to label sin. When Adam and Eve were first created God literally gave them the world. The only catch was they were not worthy to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Right and Wrong. Pretty soon Satan appeared in the form of a snake and tempted Eve, "Why should God be the only one with moral judgment? If you knew what was Wrong in the world you could make everything Right, and wouldn't that make God happy? Surely it's the Right thing to do?" Contrary to popular belief, that was the moment Eve gained the knowledge of Right and Wrong. The fruit and it's violation are merely a symbol to drive the point home. By going against God in order to please him she had become the first Evangelist, next going to Adam and converting him. Then they decided that nudity, the symbol of sex, freedom and truth, was a sin. Which was how God found out and became so furious he cast them out of the Garden forever, because they had become their own gods, but wouldn't commit to it. Never did they say I believe nudity is wrong. It's always God who gets everything declared in his name. God hates fags. God bless America. It's God's will. Here's an idea. If you believe in something, be it good or bad, then just own up to it.

Throwing Bible quotes into an argument does nothing to get your point across because, like any other book, we all interpret the Bible differently. There are already hundreds of different translations in English alone. Whatever part of the Bible may have been written by God, it has long since become unrecognizable. It is written by man and should be treated as such. Who's to say that God and happiness can't be found elsewhere? Personally speaking I've found Love with Jesus, Acceptance with Taoism, Serenity with Buddha, Inspiration with Odin, Self-Reflection with Divination and Prayer with Romany Magic. I don't know that any of them are "real", and anyone who claims otherwise is too scared to admit all the possibilities that are out there. But it's not only religions that have made me a better person. "Sins" have helped me too, just as they've helped everyone. I learned to stand up for myself from Anger. Sloth keeps me relaxed. Greed motivates me to better myself. Envy gives me something to work for. Gluttony keeps my eyes open. Lust has revealed my true nature and Pride keeps me looking and feeling good. No matter what the experience, I acknowledge it and I learn from it. To do otherwise is an injustice to yourself and everyone around you.

Oscar Wilde said it best, "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." Within reason, that is. Take alcoholism. Say drinking makes you happy. Really happy. So happy your family and friends become concerned. So you go to rehab, attend AA meetings, don't touch a drink for 10 years, and everyone congratulates you on your hard work. But the fact is, if drinking makes you happy then completely avoiding it gives alcohol just as much control over your life as it had before. You stop going to bars or any parties with alcohol. You judge those around you that do drink and try to convince them to give it up too. And eventually you steal a drink, alone and ashamed of what you've done, and pretty soon you're right back where you started. If having a beer now and again weren't out of the question, you'd be able to enjoy what you like without going off the deep end. Calling something evil or sinful doesn't make the temptation go away. It only adds feelings of guilt, shame, secrecy and self-loathing to the mix. Instead, try to expand the vocabulary a little. If you can't replace "wrong" or "evil" with something else, then it's probably safe to scratch that sin from the list. Drinking can be irresponsible, murder is hateful, you get the idea. The point is if we could just back down from this whole you/me, black/white, good/bad view of the world we were given we might be amazed to see just how much is there. This is our Garden of Eden. God created us to tend to it and use it and love it. All he asks, is that you don't eat from this one tree. Talk about resisting temptation.

Faggot.

I wear high heels and makeup, carry a purse and have sex with men.
To put it bluntly, I am everything that's wrong with the world today.
I am corrupting your children with purple dinosaurs, teletubbies, and two puppets living together.
I am going to destroy the institute of the American Family by getting married and raising children.
I turn Senators into Sinners and Priests into Pedophiles.
The right to my existence is a controversy
And the mechanics of my lovemaking are enough to cause fits among the Church,
But I figure if God wants to say something he knows where to find me,
Because I'm not leaving anytime soon.
No matter what you say,
No matter what you do,
I am always here.
I am the third sex.
I am achieved desire.
I am unrepressed joy because I don't care.
I don't care if I threaten your gender roles,
I don't care what the constitution says,
And I don't even care if the first words in the Bible are "God hates queers."
And if you don't like it,
Then you can kiss my faggotty ass and choke on my boyfriend's dick.

What happens at Theatre Camp stays at Theatre Camp.

The truth is when I was 13 I should have known I was gay, but denial has always been my greatest defense. Why 13? Well, apart from the obvious beginning of puberty there was plenty. I'd never kissed a girl, nor had any real desire to, despite the fact that I'd been in Summer Love with the same girl for three years in a row. I was in band originally, but added choir onto my list of extracurriculars after a year. Hell, the first erection I ever had was from wearing a thong. I had no idea what my body was doing at the time, I just knew that it felt good. It was because of this that I thought I was just a transsexual for the longest time. I figured I was supposed to be a girl because that was somehow a lot easier than just being gay. But, if you take a girly-boy and send him to a month-long Fine Arts camp, things are bound to come out.
It was a state-sponsored program that accepted kids based on their talents, not who could afford to go. My English teacher suggested I apply with an essay, and a month later I was accepted. It started in July, so I spent as much of June as I could with my sister Kei and my summer girlfriend, Angeleena. We'd originally met when we all went to the same day care two years ago, but now we just spent most days at one of our houses. The night before I left we all spent the night at Angeleena's house. Her mom seemed to worry that me and Ange would lock ourselves in her room, but for the most part we were happy with holding hands, love letters, and making fun of unattractive strangers together. Once the girls had decided that we were having a slumber party, they decided to "torture" me with makeup, nail polish, hair products, and tweezers. I let them. The next morning I washed everything off, but decided to keep my toes red. I claimed I didn't know how to take nail polish off, and so the girls squealed and ran to hide the acetone. I feebly tried to stop them, but later claimed it was so I'd be marked as Angeleena's. This way, no other girls would try anything. They were happy and I was going to camp with cute toenails and perfect eyebrows.

The camp, AEGIS, which may have stood for Arts & Enlightenment for Gifted and Intelligent Students but don't hold me to it, was like heaven for a fine arts whore growing up in a Christian college town in Arkansas. We were divided into four groups; Art, Dance, Music and Theatre. Although I had no experience on stage and had two years of band and a year of choir under my belt, I somehow talked my way into the Theatre department, along with one other boy, Jonathan. Jonathan was 18, taller than me, black and openly gay. I'd met plenty of gay men thanks to my mom, but he was easily the youngest one so far. And he was cute. Milky brown skin, slender frame, almost a girl if it weren't for his shaved head. He had little black glasses when I first met him, but later found out he only wore them if he didn't feel like bothering with his contact lenses, which was really a shame, for me anyway.
Being the only two guys in a class of 30 girls, we tended to hang out a lot. When we first met he asked me if I was gay, but I said no and for some reason offered my toes as proof that I had a girlfriend. Now, on top of being the only "straight" boy I was also the youngest and the shortest. A baby in the eyes of the Seniors who took up most of the population. This suited me just fine as I'd never had any older brothers or sisters and it was nice to be taken care of for a change. The camp itself was at a college campus, and because we were there for so long it ended up becoming like mini-college. We'd all go grocery shopping together, hang out in our dorms, loaf around the middle of the quad or just sit in the student union and gab between classes. I felt even cooler because I was so young and hanging out with all these older kids who were actually intelligent and interesting, a big change from my home town.
It was two days before the end of camp and my mom had called to say that her and Kei would be there on Sunday for our big show and to take me back to Dallas. She also mentioned that my dad was supposed to see me on Saturday, the official parents' day when we actually show them around, as opposed to the Sundays before when our parents were allowed to take us out for a few hours if they wanted. On this particular Saturday I was already feeling a little deflated. Yesterday we had all gone to see an opera in Little Rock, followed by a trip to the mall and dinner at a restaurant. For some foolish reason or another, I had decided that not only was I in love with my classmate Rebecka, I was going to spend all day with her and make her fall in love with me. This turned out to be a pretty common practice of mine to win girls, and it worked--sometimes. Rebecka was 16 and she let me down very easily, being the sweet girl that she was, but I was still pretty upset about it. This was all going through my head as I waited in the common room for my dad to show up.
Other parents showed up and were ushered out by their children. The room had been full of people laughing and talking and telling stories two hours ago, but now the room was empty and silent. I knew that my dad wasn't coming, but I couldn't move off the couch I had planted myself on. All I could think about was being rejected by everyone, feeling unwanted and uncared for, an inconvenience that just couldn't be bothered with and eventually I started to cry. Not a lot, just a couple of drops before I could stop myself. It must have been enough to show though, because the next thing I knew Jonathan was sitting next to me rubbing my back and asking, "What's wrong?"
"Oh, it's nothing," I said as I tried to hide the evidence that said otherwise, "It's just--" And in that instant I decided that if anyone would understand what I was feeling, it would be him. "It's just that my dad was supposed to come see me today and he hasn't. He does this all the time."
Jonathan didn't say anything, so I kept going, "I know it's because he wanted a son on the football team or something like that, but I can't help that I can't catch or throw to save my life. I just do what I'm good at, you know?"
Jonathan laughed and moved in a little closer as he continued to stroke my back, "I know exactly what you mean! My dad thought I was going to play basketball. He took me to games and workshops and training camps and everything else so we could 'work on my game.' Finally one day I just told my dad I didn't want to do it anymore."
"What did he do?" The fear in my voice must have made me sound like such a kid, but Jonathan didn't laugh, he just stretched his arm across my shoulders and relaxed.
"He didn't do anything. That was it."
I was a little surprised to find his arm around me, but he was pretty touchy-feely anyway and I'd just got caught crying. Besides, it really didn't bother me, it was actually pretty comforting.
"It's just--I don't know what I'm doing wrong! I go to church, I get good grades, I play in the same marching band he did and none of it's enough! He doesn't bother taking an interest in anything I do and I doubt he'd even know my name if my step-mom didn't remind him!"
I was starting to get emotional again and could feel the hot sting behind my eyes, but I didn't cry this time. Instead I turned and caught eyes with Jonathan who was looking right back. I closed my eyes to keep the tears back and he leaned forward and kissed me. It was a quick kiss, a test, and I had apparently passed.
"Listen," he said in a soft voice, "Me and some of the girls are having a little party tonight. How about you come with and you can blow off some steam?" I was still dumbfounded by the kiss. It was so fast I wasn't sure what it meant.
"Sure," I said in my most nervous 13-year-old voice, "that sounds like a lot of fun."
Jonathan gave me a little squeeze on the shoulder as he stood up, "Screw your dad, man. He doesn't know who he's missing out on. I'll pick you up tonight, okay?"
"Sure," I said again, wishing I could think of something cooler to say, "Thanks for cheering me up."
"No problem, Big D. Now go on and get out of here. It's too depressing to sit in a big empty room by yourself." And with that he was out the door, and I was even more confused than when I started.

When I look back at that night, I like to think of it as My Complete Loss of Innocence. I pushed the kiss out of my mind for the rest of the day, but spent two hours getting ready for Jonathan anyway. I wore my black combat boots under my best looking pair of jeans and paired it with a white tank top under an unbuttoned black dress shirt. It was the beginning of a look I would adopt all through high school and it was almost flattering, I just hadn't learned how to find proper fitting clothes. But, when Jonathan met me at my dorm at 8, the first thing he said was, "Aw, you look cute!" This wasn't really anything new; Jonathan told all of us when we were looking good, but this time I actually agreed with him. We didn't say much on the way up to the fourth floor, one of the girls' wings and Jonathan's unofficial home. Officially, Jonathan shared a dorm with another boy three doors down from mine. Boys were also officially forbidden from the third of fourth floor, but we'd heard from Jonathan's roommate that he almost never came home because he was always spending the night with the girls. There was always a counselor at the stairwell waiting to catch the curious, so we could never figure out how he did it.
As we approached the fourth floor I realized that I was about to become privy to the secret the boys had all agonized over. Was it a secret passage, a disguise, bribery, what? We walked through the door and looked around for the counselor on duty. It was one of the male Art counselors, I forget his name, but he'd always had a real chip on his shoulder toward me before. But tonight me and Jonathan just walked right past him, he even gave us a nod as we passed! I was so baffled by it that as soon as we were out of earshot I blurted out, "What was that all about? I thought we couldn't come up here?" He laughed and put his hand around my waist as we walked, "Well, Theatre boys don't count. I suppose Dance boys wouldn't either if we had any." There was no denying what was going on anymore. There was plenty of time to back off, say something, get out of this and just run away. But I couldn't. I was just too damn intrigued and curious for my own good.
We arrived at the girls' communal bathroom, an indignity that the boys were blessfully spared due to our sparce numbers. I thought Jonathan needed to use the facilities before we went to the party, but he knocked on the door and said, "Girls, it's us!"
I heard a click on the lock, then Jonathan pushed me through and quickly followed, locking the door behind us again. It certainly wasn't what I'd expected! The girls had covered the cold tiles in front of the three free-standing shower stations with blankets and pillows. Looking around I saw most of the girls were in PJs of some kind or another, even if it was on the closer side of lingerie. I knew that technically I had just walked into one of every boy's fantasies, but frankly I just felt overdressed. I told myself I wasn't staring because I had been raised to be polite and respect women, but everyone else seemed to know otherwise.
Rachel, one of my favorite big sisters, was the girl who had answered the door.
"Come on in you two! Take your shoes off and get comfortable." My boots clunked next to Jonathan's Converse sneakers. Then, perhaps fixing my overdressed issue, Jonathan came behind me and pulled my dress shirt off, leaving it with the shoes. The girls cleared a spot for us and we sat down. Rebekka was sitting across from us and already I could feel my cheeks starting to blush. This only grew worse as she said, "Aw, look! You guys are twinkies!" It was true, except his tank top was black. The girls giggled, I blushed, and the girls giggled again. Finally Rachel came over and handed us two plastic cups. She hesitated as she handed me mine, "Dorian, have you ever had alcohol before?" The truth was I had never even contemplated it. Our church didn't even serve real wine. But I knew that I wanted to try it now, and if I said no to Rachel she would mother me. So I just said yes and that was enough for her.
"What is it?" I asked as I sniffed it.
"Vodka and Kool-aid. I've had better, but for smuggled booze it's pretty good," Rachel smacked her lips, satisfied. I gave it a quick gulp and was surprised to find it pretty much tasted like grape Kool-aid. The only difference was a warm sensation as it went down your throat. "Thank you," I said while raising my cup.
"Welcome to the last slumber party girls!" Rachel cheered.
Maybe it was just the alcohol, but I started to loosen up after my second drink, which was much stronger than the first. Once we'd run dry on conversation and vodka the party turned to Truth or Dare. Jonathan reached into his pocket and pulled out three fat, hand-rolled cigarettes.
"Let's make it a little more interesting. We'll flip a coin for truth or dare. If you do it, you get a hit. Sound good?" Now don't ask me how an innocent little Christian boy from Arkansas instantly knew that we were smoking pot, but I had always wanted to try it. I didn't want to make a fool of myself, so I leaned in to Jonathan's ear and whispered, "I don't want to sound stupid but I've never smoked pot before. How do I do it?" He didn't laugh, he just whispered back, "Be sure to breathe it in. Don't suck it like a straw or the smoke won't get in your lungs and you won't get high. And coughing is okay, it gets you higher."
"Since it's Dorian's first time let's let him go first." Rachel presented the joint to me and flicked her lighter. Jonathan flipped a quarter, "Truth."
Thank God. I never do dares if I can get away with it. One of the girls blurted out, "Have you ever been kissed?" I took a puff on the joint, coughed and hacked for a second and as the smoke escaped I said, "No." The girls giggled, I blushed, and the girls giggled again.
Since a lot of the girls wouldn't play or smoke, the joints went around pretty fast. I didn't really pay attention to any else's truths or dares for awhile until I heard Jonathan's first Truth come up. "When did you know you were gay?" And his response? "When I was 13." But I didn't have much time to react before my toss came up Dare. This time Rachel took command of the floor. "I dare you to kiss Jonathan," the girls squealed with excitement, "If you do you get two hits and I'll even kiss Amber." Well, what's a pressured, stoned, drunk 13-year-old to do? I took the joint in my hand and already everyone was cheering. I took one big puff, coughed it out and took another. "There's no backing out now, Big D! And I want a real kiss or me and Amber are out of the picture." Rachel took the joint away from me and I turned to face Jonathan. "Okay," I said, "but you start." The "Oooos" had already started when I closed my eyes. First I felt him scoot up in front of me, then his arms were around my belt, then I felt myself begin to shake. Jonathan pulled me to him and we were kissing. This was nothing like the peck from this morning; Rachel got exactly what she wanted, a show.
What can I say about my first kiss that hasn't been said hundreds of times already? His breath tasted like grape Kool-aid, I couldn't hear anything for the girls, and I have no idea how long it lasted. In the back of my mind I kept hearing, "This is my first kiss. My first real kiss. My first kiss is with a boy!" But the excitement and the inebriation and the kiss itself drove all my concern away. When we finally did pull apart Rachel and Amber were already making good on their promise, but I honestly wasn't paying too much attention.

Truth or Dare seemed pretty pointless after that, so we just wrapped up in the blankets and finished off the rest of the weed, and for once the voice in the back of my head was silenced and I was having the time of my life. We talked about everything; our families, sex, drugs, more sex, and of course the show tomorrow. It was past midnight when we'd finished the weed and the booze and nearly everyone had settled down for the night on top of blankets, in sleeping bags, and even a few went to their rooms, despite the protests. I myself was trying to figure out the best way to get back downstairs without anyone noticing. The high had been great, but now my head was floating and my stomach uneasy.
"I'm kinda sleepy," I slurred to Jonathan, who had been playing cards with Rachel. For the first time since I'd got there I stood up -- and then immediately sat back down. Rachel started laughing and I couldn't help but laugh with her as Jonathan wrapped my arms around his shoulders and lifted me off the ground.
"Rachel, can I put him in your room?" She tossed him the keys and dealt another hand to Amber as we stumbled out the door.

"How are you feeling?" He looked worried and I probably looked drunk.
"I'm happy," I stumbled and hugged onto him in response.
"Careful, now. We're almost there." He kept one arm around me as he unlocked the dorm. We sat on the nearest bed and I flopped onto my back, looking up at the back of his head.
"Would you mind if I asked you something personal?"
He turned around looking puzzled, but consented, "What do you need to know?"
I was beyond the point of subtlety. The buzz had doubled from all the movement and without inhibition I blurted out, "How do you know if you're gay?"
It was so quiet all I could hear was his breath as it quickened slightly. The only light came from the window outside, which silhouetted his profile in a bright, silver glow. He turned his head slowly and raised an eyebrow at me, "There's not a checklist to go through or anything. I'd say it's pretty easy to tell if you are."
But it wasn't easy to tell. Between the two kisses and the intoxication I couldn't tell what counted and what didn't. I had no idea where either of us were standing.
"I wanted to ask one more thing," I said with a raised eyebrow of my own, "Was I a good kisser?"

This time I didn't wait for him, we just wrapped our arms around each other and went at it. This wasn't a dare or a friendly sign of affection; this was hot, this was dirty, this was forbidden but God did it feel right! We pulled our shirts off and tossed them on the floor, knocking his glasses off in the process. He pushed me back onto the bed as he straddled me. He began kissing my neck and then slowly working his way down. Around the nipples, down the stomach, even further until I heard a zip and then my pants were pulled off and thrown as well. That brought me back to the present.
"Wait!" I pushed him off of me slightly so I could see his eyes, "I think I'm gonna have to keep it above the waist."
Jonathan put his finger to my mouth and shushed, "Don't worry, honey. I wouldn't expect you to lose your virginity the same night as your first kiss." Then he took off his pants and added them to the pile. We started kissing again and I was now very aware of his fully erect penis. And more to the point, mine. The shock was enough to start regaining sobriety, and soon enough I could hear the doubts and thoughts in my mind again, pulling me away.
"What's wrong?" We laid side by side looking at each other in the moonlight.
"Nothing. This has been great, but I don't think I'm gay. Or I don't know." I didn't move or push him away, but it was all so difficult to tell what was going through my head, even without the weed-vodka haze still floating around. I mean, if I get a hard-on from kissing a guy who looks like a girl while I'm trashed, then what does that make me? "I don't want you to go or anything, but I just don't think I'm ready to figure it out yet. I've been going out with this girl and--"
"Hey! It's okay. Sexuality is confusing for everybody. And some of us never figure it out. Besides, it's already 2:30 in the morning, we should probably go to sleep. Okay?"
"Okay."

We fell asleep next to each other in that tiny twin size bed, and when I woke up we were spooning. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck and my head was killing me. I carefully lifted his arms away and slunk slowly out of the bed. While I looked around for my clothes I noticed that Rachel and Amber had made it into the next bed together. Luckily the girls had gathered all our clothes next to our bed, so I dressed silently and made my way back to my dorm. When I snuck in my roommate was still singing Korean pop music in his sleep and the clock said it was just past 6 in the morning. I set the alarm for 10 and went to sleep in my own bed fully clothed.

Apart from being on stage together, I never talked to him again. On my way out for good I stopped for one last goodbye to everyone. As I gave hugs and promises to keep in touch I noticed Jonathan on the other side of the hall with his mother and younger sister. We caught eyes, but I looked away and pretended not to notice him. When I looked back, I could see sadness in his eyes that said he was disappointed, but a grin on his face that said he understood.

What Does Gay Mean?

I believe the main reason I ever denied my nature was my father. For the first nine years of my life he was practically non-existent, then my parents got divorced and we moved to Searcy, Arkansas to live with my grandma while my mom got a house in the same neighborhood with another divorced mother. He had a part-time job at UPS and the rest of his time he spent sleeping. We started out living back and forth between houses, but eventually my dad got a house and scared my mom away by stalking her. It was just me and my sister with him after that, but his sleeping habits hadn't changed. I tried my best to make the most of the bad situation; I took care of dishes, laundry, trash and cooking. I had unceremoniously become a house wife for a paranoid schizophrenic, though I didn't know it at the time. I can remember perhaps the only time my sexuality has come into question and I denied it. I had just come home for the school year and was still desperately in love with my first girlfriend, Angeleena. I believe I was 11 or 12 at the time because I had just started middle school. My dad was awake this afternoon when I got home from school, already a bad sign. He told my sister to go play in her room while he had a talk with me.
"Dorian," he said, "I just wanted to clear up a few things now that you're getting older. I hear you've been getting teased a lot in school."
This wasn't anything new, but I guess my future stepmother must have said something. "Yeah," I said, "but it doesn't bother me, they're all idiots."
"Well then, why not stand up to him? What's his name?"
There were honestly plenty, but I went with my most hated: a tall boy with a stupid bowl-shaped haircut that was very popular at the time, "Trent."
"Well, what does he do? Push you around? Tease you?"
"He just calls me names, I guess. Honestly I don't really care."
"I've heard he's been calling you gay!" my dad blurted out.
This surprised me, because of all the things I had been called, this was not one of them. "What does gay mean?"
I lived in Arkansas, okay? Sue me.
"It's a sin that's committed when two boys are together instead of a man and a woman. That's not you, though, is it?"
The truth is, I had no idea it was even an option. But I could hear the accusation and fear behind his voice, and luckily I had an easy comeback. "Well, no. I'm dating Angeleena."
My dad let out a sigh of relief and put his hand on my knee, "Well, there you go then. The next time Trent calls you gay just say, 'Well, Trent, at least I have a girlfriend.' After all, you can't let people think you're gay."
And so was the beginning of my dad's obsession with my masculinity, and my half-hearted attempts to keep him appeased. Angeleena and I remained friends for quite some time, we still are as a matter of fact, and this seemed to always be enough to steady his nerves. I did my best to appear as normal and straight as possible to the rest of the world, so my queerness just came out in secrecy.