At least she had a manservant around! You know what I’ve got? Sweet F.A. is what I’ve got. So I’m that much lonelier now than Marlene, my idol when I was a late teenager.

There have been times in my current apartment when I’ve been wakened out of a sound sleep by my next-door lesbian sobbing and screeching about lost trust, failed love, betrayal.

I suffer from severe rejectophobia. Define severe, you say? My ego is so fragile that even the slightest slight (whether real or perceived) sends me over the edge. Define over the edge, you say? No, no. You’re better off not knowing the things I’m capable of doing when I feel rejected.

“Hey, did you see on the news where the homos and the lesbians at U of M want to build a center? Right there on the campus?” my grandma asked me in a high-pitched tone of opprobrium, by way of making conversation.

One August day her 8-year-old son Alexandre pointed at me and said, “Pédé.” I asked his older female cousin Anne what that meant and she acted out a limp-wristed sissy walk. Oh, that again.

At any time I can count my gay friends on one hand. Attrition stays high — disappearance, permanent fallings-out, deaths. Don’t be deceived by television’s sunny portrayals. The waters of gay life are cold, choppy, and polluted.

Must want to be part of a “dude clique” just like the one that ostracized and terrorized you in high school. If you can emulate your former tormentors as much as possible, you can get back at those guys that called you a faggot! That’s clearly how it works.

Hey, Hollywood. Since you love the remakes so much, and you are getting progressively more comfy with the gay stuff, I have an idea for you: Remake all the classic (=$$$) movies as “gay.” Turn Scarlett O’Hara into Steven O’Hara, pair her with Rhett Butler, and bam: “Gay Gone with the Wind.” See, for convenience’s [...]

It’s hardly a secret that I am endlessly bitter. I’m also angry, very angry. I have temperamental disorders for miles. Sooner or later a couple of them had to be professionally diagnosed, and so they were. A very popular diagnosis that was offered to me as though off a tray of canapes at a cocktail [...]