I clicked the remote control to my twelve inch Sony, lied on my bed, and cracked open a Bud. I was feeling straighter all the time and it was invigorating, powerful, unfamiliar, and masculine.

I passed by PBS and the Classic Movie station to watch a rerun of "Leave It To Beaver." In this episode, the Beav's new "girlfriend" wants him to come to dinner but he already told his friends he would go camping. She tells him that her mother is making a special spaghetti dinner with fancy garlic bread-- but inside all the Beav can think of is that he'd rather have hot dogs cooked over an open fire.

I could relate to his dilemma. In my past life, I would have gone for the dinner, no problem, but now I would rather have the reaffirming male experience of wieners, fires, and sleeping under the glorious stars. Oh Christ, I don't know what I'm thinking anymore. I mean shit, even "Leave It To Beaver" was messing with my head. I changed channels.

And there I was on the evening news! Donna standing next to me, grinning in silence.

"How long have you been straight?" I sat up as I watched the overdressed red headed anxious reporter.

"I...I...I..."

"He's been heterosexual all his life," Dr. Mince interrupted. "Here at Haven House, we believe it is culture and society that creates this deviance."

"Are you saying homosexuality is deviant behavior?" She didn't take her eyes off Dr. Mince.

"Absolutely, read any respected Psyche 101 book."

She continued on me, "Mr. Shamus, do you feel you participated in deviant behavior when you led a homosexual life style?"

I remembered my state of confusion from the day before and my mind panicked like it did then. I could have answered, "Yes," but there was more to consider here: Fran, Eric, Drew, Hugo. Did I think they were defiant? No. But if I said yes to this answer, that's exactly what I would be saying, and I knew they would be watching.

"I...I..." I tried hard to answer, lights glaring in my face, eyes seethed before me, and Donna gripped my hand like a gorilla on her last banana. I mumbled, "No, no...I..."

"What was that?" The Reporter had no intention of letting it go unanswered.

I watched myself, miniatured and matrixed, begin to stammer. I swallowed. Dr. Mince quickly raised his arm around Donna and me, pushing us back. His voice was garbled at the time, but now it was as clear as a bell. "These young people are still in a process. It's unfair to pressure them with questions that they can't truly and honestly answer at this time."

What was he saying? I could be honest. At least I remembered a time that it never occurred to me whether I was honest or not. I continued to watch. The redhead now reported from inside the local television station. She sat in a chair, next to a man in an Armani black suit and oversized glasses. In white letters at the bottom of the screen, his name and who he was glared at me.

FRED GODMAR
President of GLMHA

GLMHA stood for Gay & Lesbian Mental Health Association. The redhead turned to him. "Mr. Godmar, you're familiar with this 'process?'"

He knowingly smiled and leaned forward. "Yes, I've seen the damage it does."

"And what damage is that?"

"Well, first of all, the determination and strength it takes a homosexual to first come out of the closet is tremendous and the stress definitely is laborious. Of course, this is also a relief which reduces anxiety and stress levels. Now imagine going through the process of admitting to yourself who you are, opening up to your friends, and then your family. The homosexual is, like I was, joyous, proud, and for the first time conscious-- of who he or she is and who the world is around them. Seeing truths for the first time. Now tell that same person it was all in vain and that it's time to go back into the closet and shut the door-- it'll kill him or her, one way or another. Being homosexual just doesn't go away. It's like telling a little girl she doesn't have freckles. She can pretend she doesn't, and when she gets older she can cover them with make-up, but the freckles still exist as part of who that girl was and is."

I clicked the TV off, lied back, and desperately tried to clear my mind.