Faggots

by Larry Kramer

Dinky said: “Sometimes I think I’ve never really been in love. Sometimes I think I’m not capable of it.” Ohmigod.

“True love necessitates the ability to accept another person in all his moods and guises.”

“We can use it as an experiment to spend time with each other, get to know each other, I’ve truly missed you, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t truly think you have the talent to handle it, and see where it takes us.”

“We’ll work on developing our relationship, our romance,” wandered around with him.

Our Hero welcomed Death.

Such an authoritarian fabric, leather!

authoritarian fabric

Everyone is beyond the beyond. Except Fred Lemish. Everyone’s where they want to be. Except Fred Lemish. This is it. We’ve found it. This night of nights. This summer of our lives. Can it last till Tuesday? When’s Tuesday?

Fred’s crotch was deep in admiration. “You know, I really want to be friends with you,” Dinky said. “Friendship is better. I like being friends with you.”

“Oh, that’s a tiresome subject! Heterosexual comparison! Why do all faggots dredge that one up? Straights don’t compare themselves to us! We’re all the same anyway. We’ve just got an added dose of the clap.”

agree

“Yeah. It tells me something. It tells me no relationship in the world could survive the shit we lay on it. It tells me we’re not looking at the reasons why we’re doing the things we’re doing. It tells me we’ve got a lot of work to do. A lot of looking to do. It tells me that, if those happy couples are there, they better come out of the woodwork fast and show themselves pronto so we can have a few examples for unbelieving heathens like you that it’s possible. Before you fuck yourself to death.”

“Hey, Dinky …, sooner or later you’re going to have to make a commitment to someone. Which means making a commitment to yourself. And a commitment to the notion that our shitty beginnings don’t have to cripple us for life.”

“You know, you analyze too much. You want to know too much. I don’t want to know.” OK, Lemish. You hear that? You want somebody who doesn’t want to know? All your life has been a journey to find an identity. Why are you letting this loser help you lose one? He sure is a vision, standing up in all that leather. Your crotch, please note, has not ceased its admiration.

“You can’t give me what I want. And I’m still fucking hooked on you. Why can’t I let go? Why am I still holding on to somebody who can’t give me what I want?”

“Why can’t we get it together?” Fred asked softly. “What better trinity for a love affair and a good relationship than two guys who share mutual affection and attraction, mutual interests, and terrific sex? You always said on paper we make so much sense. The fucking with you was always wonderful.” “Yes, it was.” “Can’t we do it again?” You’re back to begging. Fred. You shouldn’t have to do that, Fred. “Sure. We’ll do it again.” Dinky was still rummaging. but now down on his knees, in his little canvas carry-all on the floor.

Fred jumped up and took Dinky in his arms and tried to embrace him and kiss him. But March was a long way away and the room was still too stuffed up and so the bodies and the lips, for both, had trouble connecting.

“You’ve already fucked half of New York,” Fred said. “I’ve fucked the other half. You told me you were in the bars since you were seventeen, you had your muscles at twenty-three. There isn’t a scene

you haven’t seen or done. And you’re only thirty. Why can’t you imagine something better? I dare you to change...

“My bulldog Fred,” Dinky managed to mumble as Fred managed to connect with an earlobe. “I told you we’d work on our relationship.” He rubbed his hands up Fred’s new washboard stomach. “You feel good.” He poked his hands in Fred’s crotch to see if it still was deep in admiration. It was. “You still turn me on. We’re not finished yet. I still want to keep seeing you. Let’s go and grab some donuts before Irving’s. I know how you like your donuts.”

this is too depressing

“We are no longer animals but we are certainly not yet men.”

No More Dinky!, oh, it’s all too much, and we kiss and cuddle and suck and tongue and fuck and rim … Dinky! Get out of my fucking head! I’m fucking!, and kiss and cuddle and tongue and fuck and rim … It’s going to be harder getting rid of you than I thought! … and kiss and cuddle and tongue and suck and fuck each other, using spit and careful to keep the sand away, and back again and suck some more and kiss some more and taste the sweat and glue yourself together at last, together, together,

So long, Dinky. Good-bye. You’re just not right for me. I want some pleasure and joy from my feeling. I must have the strength and courage not to let you or this scene dictate my emotions. It’s hard to say good-bye to you. But I must have the strength and courage to say No.

Yes, we were the quintessential faggots, Dinky. One cock teaser and one doormat. Afraid of love. Using our bodies as barter instead of our brains as heart.

A cleaner and wiser Fred Lemish now re-enters his Champion boxer shorts and leaves his Dinky Adams. In his garden. His beautiful magical garden.