step. Difficult, of course, but the only escape there is, or ever can be. They must stop snivelling excuses, stop weepily blaming Society, the Laws, "my family," "this narrow little town."

Leave the place. There are bigger cities with more endurable folkways to be found. Get away from the family. No adult should be hanging around such a setup anyway. Don't spend much time worrying about society, or bad laws. Tens of thousands of homosexuals all over United States are every day living healthy, normal lives. They are far too busy enjoying reality to spend their time in daydreams and escapist letter-writing.

And now, the Constitution. There is always the cry, "Whatever the heterosexuals have, we have a right to have too." So goes the argument. No one would say that the whole question of Constitutional rights may not be the most important single one concerning every homosexual in this country. But does the homosexual have to repeat all the mistakes the heterosexuals have made? Let them keep their Lonely Hearts clubs, for the aging widowers, the fat women, and the moochers who are hoping to marry money.

Instead of wishing for such faded institutions let the lonely homosexual sit right down and give himself a good going over to see what the trouble may be. Ask himself, "Why am I lonely? Am I a selfish, inconsiderate, boor? Am I careless about my appearance? Do I quite absurdly want only those twenty years younger than myself? What is a sound and realistic program for me, so that I may live a normal, healthy homosexual life?" These are the questions to ask. But please don't try to hide somewhere behind the Constitution.

Undoubtedly none of the foregoing will convince the confirmed "letter addict." So let's do a complete switch. Let's pretend we give in and admit that the European homophile maga-

zines have had their Pen Pal setups for years. Let's have the guts to invoke the Constitution and stand up for our rights, by God. Admit that we can't change human nature over night and that if people want to write letters they are going to write letters anyway. Maybe it is a little sick. So what? But give the poor things some sort of an outlet.Then, stand back and watch ONE grow. It'll be terrific!

Let's pretend that ONE starts nice and fresh with a lovely Pen Pal column. The letters would start flowing merrily back and forth, the pictures, the measurements, and all the rest. Thankful Pen Pals would chorus, "How wonderful!" For a time everyone would love ONE, new subsciptions pouring in "Please send me the address of the gorgeous blond..."

With the Constitution gleaming untarnished in the bright sunlight, flags waving in the breeze and the sound of merry glees and catches ringing through the welkin, the millenium would have come at last. Or, would it? For some disturbing notes would begin to creep into the picture, all too soon.

For instance, the story of Paul and Gerald. Paul, who is fifty-three, had been corresponding with Gerald, who is twenty-three, and blond. During his summer vacation Paul had gone to Fort Wayne to meet Gerald. He turned out to be blond alright, but the picture had by no means indicated how short he was. He just practically had no legs at all, you might say, which was rather upsetting of course.

Then, at dinner which was in a very nice restaurant indeed, Gerald had belched extremely audibly, and several times. He appeared not to have any idea at all that people in nice restaurants just don't belch.

Later on, at Paul's room in the hotel, matters were even worse, for-I hardly know how to say it. Well-to put the thing plainly, Gerald looked

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