I wish I could remember how it happened. All I know (from family lore) is that, at age 5, I renounced plaid. Specifically, I renounced my wearing of plaid. And I haven't worn plaid since. Ever. That same magical year (1965) I also insisted on eating beets at every meal including breakfast. My mother is still stupified. I ate beets then for the same reason I eat beets now. They turn my urine red.

"Black Male" by S. Buck

Since the beginning, scientists have speculated on causes and orgins of human sexuality and desire. What is it, exactly, which makes A want to be with C and not B? Environment, nature, nuture. Maybe his mother was domineering and overbearing and his father was weak and distant. Perhaps as the second child and oldest boy he was coddled. Or maybe the mother was weak and overbearing and the father was distant and domineering. Or maybe it's all genetics. The debate is endless. Is the left side of the lesbian brain larger and more developed than the right?

When I was in high school I was very comfortable being a sexual non-entity. I was never teased, never called 'f****t', never nothing. A bookish, nerdy, skinny black boy is not viewed as a sexual threat. I saw how cruelly the 'exuberant' boys were treated and I wanted no part of it or of them. Truthfully, I wanted to be 'exuberant' as well but the price of admission to that club was way too high. A shame stemmed from my denial of them, and my denial of me seeing myself in them.

I was 21 before I ever had sex with anybody. His name was Terry and he was also the first boy I ever kissed and the first boy who heard me whisper 'I love you'. Terry was sweet, kind, and more worldy than anything I could have imagined. He was my friend Buddy's friend, and he let me down easily. "You'll be ok. You're not in love with me. You're in love with the idea of love. Everyone falls in love with the first one. It's going to be fine".

I'm at an odd gay age. There is almost an entire generation of gay men five to ten years older than me that were wiped out, due to AIDS and it's sister complications. The ones five to ten years younger are wrapped, literally and figuretively in latex, sometimes accompanied by a sexual shame that echoes the '50's. You have sex, get AIDS, and die. If you are in your 20's or early 30's you've probably never seen Karposi Sarcoma and you've probably never had your best friend die on you, which gives you a sense of immortality every 25 year old should have; along with the recklessness that goes along with it. Dangerous liasons, to say the least.

Gene was the brightest, happiest, blondest boy in the my third grade class. His Dad, like almost all the Dads in Fayetteville, North Carolina was in the army or air force. Gene, at least in my third grade mind, was my best friend and the first boy I ever loved. It was absolutely pure. When his father was transferred to Texas or Arizona or China or Vietnam, does it matter...I was devastated. I begged my mother to put his picture in a frame on my night stand, and she did. I cried myself to sleep for a week. God bless my mother. No laughter, no judgements.. Just a slightly bewildered woman who must have wondered, "What do I have in store with this one?".