I knew, for instance, that the two homosexuals were acting out the biggest lies of their lives. I happened to know that their masculine cloaks could be cast off quickly and completely. What I wasn't sure of was whence came this effective disguise. When, more important how, did these two people so beautifully master the tricks of masculinity that the traits seemed more inborn than acquired? In search of the answers, I thought back to my earliest interest in the subject.

It all began the year I faced up to my nature and realized there were others like me. My curiosity had been immediate and intense, growing rather than slacking, off with time. And eventually it had resulted in my being hypersensitive to the presence of homosexuals.

There's an old saw to the effect that it takes a queer to recognize a queer. And it figures. But my ability in those days to spot other male homosexuals had been far keener than that of my gay friends, many of whom were older and most of whom were more worldly and experienced. The sensitiveness had been like an electric bell at the base of my skull, a bell that invited me to take a second look at someone I had only subconsciously noted. The bell sometimes tinkled almost inaudibly, sometimes rang with the insistence and fury of a fire alarm. I could be walking down the street, sitting in a restaurant, riding a bus-alone or with friends, preoccupied with my own thoughts or talking with a companion-not thinking about homosexuals, at the moment not interested in homosexuals-and the bell would ring. If it rang softly, the subsequent look I stole might reveal a boy or man whom I couldn't categorize through brief observation. But usually its volume mounted or descended to such a pitch that I was able to arrive at a definite opinion. When the voice of the bell was raucous, there was no need for a furtive double-take. Experience had taught me that if I cared to check, the person invariably would turn out to be obvious.

This automatic alarm had come into being as such a natural part of me that I'd taken it pretty much for granted, assuming at first that it was an interesting appendage to the make-up of all homosexuals. Perhaps the law of Nature's compensation, I had reasoned. Take away a man's sight and his other senses become phenomenally developed. Cut off his right hand and the left becomes so skilled and strong that it can do the work of both. Deny him the security of "belonging" to the society in which he lives and he will find a way of measuring the surprising length and breadth of the minority group to which he was born.

Despite the reasonable assumption, I gradually realized that my gay friends while quick to recognize obvious types and quick to make guesses about types less obvious were not gifted with similar powers of perception. By and large they were amazed at the confidence with which I sized up certain strangers, and even more amazed to discover again and again that my evaluations had been accurate. Thus, in my own little circle, I got the reputation of being quite an appraiser-and simultaneously incurred a case of inflated ego.

Up to this time I hadn't been aware of basing my conclusions on physical characteristics alone. On the contrary I had been at a loss to explain how I could repeatedly point out homosexuals who escaped the notice of other initiates. So, encouraged by the flattery of my friends, I got to thinking I was mystically endowed, and as far as I knew might be the only living person who was. "Undoubtedly a sixth sense," I told myself: a cheering thought, as it clearly made me an individual of importance.

one

8