What do you think?
Rate this book


388 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1993
I kicked around the city feeling lazy, sated, drowsy, like a well-fed animal. It was there – near that hilly nexus of streets in the Castro, as I wandered in and out of shops smiling at people, at women and at men who were all naturally, casually, unquestionably gay – where I felt there was this dark cold thread inside me that might be broken, that could be changed to something resembling the nature of light. If only I could stay there somehow, in that city – with Kay, with my very own love – and wake up every morning to know how intrinsically, undeniably mine the city was, how at the core of it stood this still-unfulfilled offering of ecstasy and freedom, a self-contained world where straight people mattered not at all. I could feel the bright sure power of that. Beyond the power, very close, lurked dignity; and beyond that, I knew, there was peace.
Some things we remember in detail; others, in metaphor. Maybe that's why, later, it will come back to me as a blur: the long, long time that the kiss went on, became not a kiss anymore but an exploration of skin; the beginning of how we touched hair, lips, cheeks, breasts and thighs through cloth; the moment she started to take off my clothes, there on the floor in front of cold pizza and a snorting dog, and I let her do all the work – sensing somehow that seizing the physical initiative was what she needed. There had been something vaguely frightening and unfamiliar about my saying where and when. Her power to control and to please linked inextricably to her passion; and if I wanted her passion, and mine, I would have to give up a measure of my own control – not something I ever did lightly. But I realized, through a cloud of anxiety and desire, that control was a much-overrated thing I could do without. And, anyway, we must all give it up in the end.