Word: reided
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...John Reid is the best little boy in the world. Obviously, then, he's going to be the best little husband and father when he grows up, right? But John Reid knew differently, ever since the age of eleven when he first wondered why he liked looking at those boxers in Sports Illustrated. He knew, but he would make sure no one else ever...
...John Reid is, yes, a healthy homosexual. His autobiography is the only "case history" I have ever read that has real similarities with my own experience; in fact, several of the incidents he described almost knocked me off my chair...
...both carried out the deception very well. Reid did better, because he was covering up the fact that he knew he liked men; I was covering up the fact that I didn't seem to have sexual feelings in relation to people at all. Thus, I almost never dated; I pretended to be too busy. Reid dated extensively, and even stayed overnight once (in a hotel) so he could walk in the next morning and have his roommates see him nonchalantly unshaven, wearing the same clothes he made sure he was seen in the night before with Hilda. Hilda herself...
Later, both of us went through the inevitable how-do-I-find-out-who's-gay-without-risking-being-found-out crisis. Reid's solution struck home with frightening precision. He planned to draw up a "sexual preference questionnaire," completely anonymous, and send it around to all his friends, who would think it was for some sociology thesis, fill it out, and return it to a post office box. Reid would collect the replies and then identify which friend filled out which questionnaire by the ultraviolet ink he had previously coded them with. He never actually did this, of course...
...next stage is the God-do-I-want-to-meet-that-guy-but-if-I-did-then-I'll-know-I'm-really-gay crisis. For Reid, it happened in New York City. He was walking home from work, and saw one of those unbelievable raving fags: purse, approximately pink hair, boots up over the knees, poodle, and so on. His reaction was disgust. But then he noticed the guy he was talking to: dark hair, blue eyes, sideburns, blue jeans, flannel shirt--unbelievably hunky. Well, clearly, the poodle guy was... But if he was talking to him, then...