Sissies

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Richard and I were friends in high school, and then we were freshmen together at the University of Maryland. We decided one evening to study together in the fourth floor lobby of the Mckeldin Library.
We didn’t know that this was a meeting place for gays on campus. We sat down in some comfortable armchairs, and a young man wearing very tight jeans came up to me and said, “Hey, what’s your sign? I’ll bet you’re a Gemini!”
His demeanor sent off warning signals in my head. In those days, I was just a dumb jock. I replied, “I am a feces,” and gave him my “I’m going to kill you” look. He walked away. Rolling my eyes to Richard, I flopped my hand in the air to show my limp wrist.
Richard went to the bathroom. He came back and said that there were two guys in the stall next to him, and it sounded like they were getting it on. We were cocky football players, so we went into the bathroom, stood by the stall, and made loud fart noises. Nobody came out, so we went back out into the lobby and sat down. We looked around and realized that, next to the other fifteen or so young men in the lobby, Richard and I looked like military commandos.
We were freaking out and quickly left. I was always looking for a reason not to study, and this was a good one. I reasoned that I could’ve been attacked by these butt pirates. That was the last time I studied at the library. I guess at that time I was a little homophobic, and, certainly, there was no real danger. We two, strong, football players took the steps three at a time to get away, blushing and screaming like girls, our burly hands flapping with fright.

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