When I was in St. Louis, I had an interesting conversation with my host about the impact of September 11th on the gay community. My responses (as a gay man living in New York on that fateful day) were varied and probably incoherent, but I'll do my best to represent them. In essence, whatever the goals of the nascent movement for civil rights (alright, for liberation) for gays and lesbians in 1969, it seems to me that they were achieved when, in a matter of days after the Towers fell, New York Governor George Pataki declared that same sex domestic partners would be entitled to all State benefits going to surviving family members of those lost in the attack. Too, being in New York, I felt like a New Yorker. There was an incredible sense of common cause and shared experience, that for a time eradicated all divisions. I hadn't previously thought of myself as a New Yorker, but as a guy from Pennsylvania living in New York. (Ironically, less than a month after the attack I was no longer technically a New Yorker but a New Jerseyan. New Jerseyer? New Jerseyite?) Ich bin ein New Yorker, Bub. And beyond that, I feel myself to be an American--truly and indelibly an American--in a way I didn't feel before. Being gay is besides the point. It's like being left-handed. In fact, I would say that a homo couldn't do better than to live in the U. S. of A. Yeah, they have more comprehensive laws in several European nations and marriage is state-sanctioned in a few countries, but they also have more comprehensive laws in about everything in most European nations, and given parliamentarianism, less pure democratic forms of government. We have more freedom and a greater degree of self-determination. And, it's no big deal if we're homos. That rocks.


Speaking of things that rock, last night I went out with my Latinist Lesbian Pal. She's on my Board, and after a program committee meeting asked if we could do drinks. I said sure, if food could be included in that. So we went to Leshko's on Avenue A. She is splitting with her adulterous domestic partner, and is on the hunt for butch women (who are not 'kids') to have sex with. This is not easy as a lesbian. All those jokes about moving vans on the first date have a basis in fact from my observations. But, there is a (from what I hear) vibrant sex club for women in NYC (albeit operating one night a month), so maybe there's hope for LLP.

Anyway (here's the part that rocks), afterwards, it was too late to hit the gym, so I headed to the Factory Cafe. I had just polished off the crossword puzzle in the New York Sun and who walks in the door but the Special Guy. Passionate embrace. I was so glad to see him I could have wept. Yeah. I'm in love. I love the Special Guy. Head over heels I love the Special Guy. And y'know, I can honestly say that I've never had this experience before. Ever. So he has a scheduling conflict for tomorrow night, and we'll do our sleepover on Wednesday. This will probably be better as I don't have to be at work until noon on Thursday. I love you Special Guy.