“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a friend. He’s gay too,” she says after her buzzer rings. “Cool,” I lie, and sip my water, maintaining my composure. Aside from generally preferring one-on-one interactions over the claustrophobia of group socializing, meeting another gay man in Edmonton is particularly nerve-racking because there are so few of us. On the rare and hallowed occasions when we do collide, we’re often expected to be attracted to one another or to sleep together. Friendship alone is never a possibility. I especially can’t afford to be choosy. My brownness turns out to be a form
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