brought my blood to the boil, and I had actually drafted a letter of protest to the magazine, when it dawned on me that this common assumption is our very protection, or at least for people like me. As long as the public supposes a homosexual necessarily to be nelly, then what have I to worry about?

Even so, I can recall the surprise I experienced when I learned that the headmaster of a well-known private school in Toronto had engaged one of that city's most infamous fairies. This fellow was flamboyant and effeminate, and really screamy. He had been in trouble with the police for his activities, yet managed to survive two terms at this boys' school without anybody asking questions. His real nature was only noticed, it seems, when he raped one of the little boys in the lavatory. He was fired, and the whole matter hushed up.

I remember an habitué of a downtown tavern I once frequented. "Big Jess" was a fat, old, broken-down prostitute. We let her join us because she was cheery, but lonely and business was slow. Now and then we even let her come along to a party after closing time. Big Jess knew the score. But I shall never forget the night she'd had too much to drink. She turned on us with a vehemence and a foulness of mouth which shocked me. She, so low herself, was looking down on me! To her, of all people, I and my kind were something she'd expect to find crawling out from under an upturned stone. I felt sick.

What I want is to be able to hold up my head in society, look everyone in the eye and say "I am homosexual", and be accepted.

One of the reasons I left my home city was that no longer could I put up with the regular queries concerning my bachelorhood. Friends took to inviting me for supper, and, by strange chance, some unwed female would be there too. Of course my

mother was worse: "Why don't you find a nice girl, dear, and settle down?" The lie I tell now is that I'm divorced, and must be "very careful". And yet I still have to make sure that once in a while I'm seen in public with a woman; and must be careful not to be seen too often with a man. Some of my friends are a bit on the nelly side; and I don't care. But I would never be seen in public with them. None of this I want. None of this I've asked for. I want to be able to go places with other men, hold hands in the movies, and have a dance or two in a night-club, openly and fearlessly.

My fondest desire is no different from that of most other people-to find a companion whom I can love, and who will love me in returnsomeone with whom I can share my life. I'm pushing thirty, and have more or less given up hoping; but even if I were lucky enough to meet HIM, what sort of life would we be able to lead? We would want to share an apartment together; share our daily lives. Could we do this now? Not without running the risk of losing our jobs, being asked by the landlord to leave, and being snubbed by friends and acquaintances.

This I want to change. Even my private life is invaded. I want to be able to decorate my apartment in my way, and not to keep my gay books, magazines and pictures hidden, just in case a straight friend drops in, or the plumber calls. And it's not exactly reassuring to know that what to me is an act of love, is a crime here in Canada, punishable with life imprison-

ment.

I reject totally the suggestion of ONE correspondents who are married with children, yet meet boy-friends on the sly. Firstly, what sort of life is this? Secondly, this may be all right for them, but then, they're not homosexual. They are obviously bisexual. "Homosexual" means the same sex,

21