Dear Marge:

I want you to be the first to know! Because we're still the best of friends, aren't we? Nobody could be married to somebody for eight years and not remember something of that person, can they? Anyway you always said you wanted me to be happy, and you said you knew I would be happy if I ever found myself, and oh, Margie, now your little mixed up Mary has found herself. She knows now what it really is to be a real homosexual, and since she knows this, she knows how to adjust herself to it and be happy for the first time. Oh, Margie, because you loved me so tenderly for eight years, I know you will be so happy for me.

So it's this way, Marge-I'm going to marry George! You remember George? Now I mean George, not Georgina. We knew Georgina and she thought she was a . man too, but she wasn't. No. George is that REAL man we knew who lived down at the end of the block. The tall, rather graceful one with the beautiful. wavy black hair, remember?

Well, I figured it this way, Marge, and I know you'll agree with me. You see, by definition, homosexuals are supposed to be attracted to their own sex, yes? O. K. But what really happens in gay life most of the time? You know as well as I do that today's feminine gals are tomorrow's masculine gals nine times out of ten. Just give 'em all time and this nearly always happens. Remember how you and I used to fight, Marge, over who would wear the pants? It got to where neither one of us ever knew who was who and what was what around there. I loved you, but those rotating personalities of ours nearly put me in the bug house.

Well, George had the same problem. He wanted to fall in love with a man, but most of the men he met eventually got so sissy on him he couldn't stand it. George may be soft and mild mannered, but he wasn't like they were. So he finally got so confused he was thinking of forgetting the whole thing and never marrying anybody.

Then one night we ran into each other down at the corner drug store and decided to talk it over.

Oh, Marge, I'm so happy, it's all so wonderful. I never dreamed I could be such an adjusted homosexual. You see, hon, here's the secret: George and I both want to marry somebody of our own sex that ACTS and FEELS for the most part like our own sex. Well, George wants a man and I want a woman. So George has soft little ways like a woman and I seem to remind him of the ways of a man. Now neither one of us can find this very often in our own sex, and if we do, it never seems to last without bloody fights.

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