buggery.org

(Recycled from the House of Love)

My Dad used to have this little rhyme he’d belt out, regular as clockwork, on the first day of spring: you could set your calendar by it.

Spring has sprung,
The grass is riz,
I’ll tell you where da boidies is:
Some say da boids is on da wing,
But dat’s ridickalus!
Everybody knows da wings is on da boid!

How we laughed… (more…)

(Recycled from the House of Love)

Lesbians. That’s what they called us. You see, gay men aren’t supposed to get shacked up until a year or two into their relationship at least, if they ever get around to it at all. Commuting between houses, paying twice the rent, sharing with strangers, and lonesome nights wondering where he is are the price you pay for maintaining your independence, and it’s the norm. Some boys we know even flaunt this as some kind of badge of maturity: "We’ve been going out for x years but we don’t live together — we prefer to have our own space." Lesbians, on the other hand, are reputed to move in together the morning after their second date — sometimes before having sex for the first time. If the relationship only lasts a week, no matter, they’ll stay living together for years afterwards.

Or so the legend goes. (more…)

(Recycled from the House of Love)