It Takes One To Know One

My first knowledge about gays was my uncle Willie. He was gay all over. He had a decorating shop and used furniture store. When he came for Thanksgiving dinner he was 'one of the girls'. He was pretty flaming, from the hair to his shoes. i remember an older cousin who said to us kids, for every flaming effeminate was a manly gay who dated them. Food for thought when you are a teen.

When I got old enough for a trip to New York my cousin went with me. He wanted to go find gay hangouts and look at the queers. We ended up at this bar where the gays were holding hands, dancing and making out. He didn't want to leave. I should have figured it out. When we walked back to our hotel, that's all he talked about. The second night he wanted to go back. I started to figure it out.

No sense in dragging it out, my cousin was one of those gays who doesn't look the part, but when it came to making out they wanted to make out with the girly boy types. On that trip to New York he confessed to me that he and Carlos, the neighbor boy, were making out. What he couldn't understand was my resistance to it. He was sure that once I went to one of those places in New York I'd realize my persuasion.

It wasn't until several years later, out of college and working in Big D that I met an older man at work that pushed me over. The truth is I was upset about it, I ran away from it. It happened, it wasn't going to happen again. But it did, with him. I wasn't a flaming gay like that uncle of mine. And neither was the man I was having sex with. Far from it, we could not have looked straighter. But we weren't.

My cousin, after I came out to him, said 'it takes one to know one, he always knew'. Maybe.