I attended a good bye party for one of my friends last week. She’s gay and the crowd of guests was largely gay. I was on to my second drink when the music got louder, apparently indicating dancing time, because before I could realize it, one of my friend’s friends had started to rub his bony body against mine. His boyfriend stood by watching but soon joined the dance with some other people. I had never danced so closely to a stranger and this man, gay as he claimed to be and was, began to get quite excited and squirmy with his hands. I looked to my husband who stood smiling, then to some older friends who had that look of expressionless.
As we gathered our things to leave, I came to my friend to give her a hug. She kissed both of my cheeks; her lips were moist, probably from sweats and drinks. I found myself wondering how it would feel to put mine against hers. She was after all, very beautiful and could make almost anyone she liked feel cared for. This was not the first time I felt strongly another female’s presence. My earliest infatuation was with my mother and her boby, then with my sister and hers. After them, in college I met a number of women who I liked and loved. One memory I have took place in my friend’s dorm room. Her school was in the city and I was staying over for the night. I got down to the floor and got into my sleeping bag and looked over to her bed. She was sitting up, giving her long hair a slow brush. She started to say something. We always talked for a long time before sleeping. The light from the courtyard dimly lit the room. With her back to the window and in her pale nightgown, she looked like smoke, hazy and transparent-like. She was beautiful, soft and I was half startled by my feelings for her, for that image of her.
