Just this morning in southern England, a young friend of mine was serving customers at his barista job.

A middle-aged man and woman approached the counter, got served, and took their take-out coffees toward the door.

“Which one served you?” asked the woman of the man.

“Oh, the queer one,” came the slightly sneering reply, loud enough for my friend to hear.

He just turned 21 and is gay. I think he would quite agree with your observations about what it feels like to be gay.

Writer. Runner. Marine. Airman. Former LGBTQ and HIV activist. Former ActUpNY and Queer Nation. Polyglot. Middle-aged, uppity faggot. jamesfinnwrites@gmail.com

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