What Phyllis meant is "Are you now or have you ever been of the homosexual persuasion?"
You know. Even in one of those brief moments of passion that the French so cleverly call "
moments de passion," when all caution is thrown to the wind and Dame Fortune is disregarded, when men drop their drawers and drop to their knees and worship a god-of-the-moment, a god that gives and gives and gives and then when you think you're done, he gives some more. Have you ever taken a man in your arms and gotten lost in his, not like in a game of Twister but in the twisted game of life where you're so close your body becomes an extension of his and his of yours, until you are spent, drained, drowsy--and hungry! Not hungry for food--although you wouldn't turn down a pizza--but a deep hunger, a hunger from the soul that is at once satiated and reborn, a moment when the exclamations "Oh, GOD!" and "Oh, F*CK!" are for the first time synonymous. A moment when you say "This is not merely good. This is Merman-in-Gypsy good. This is Streisand-in-Central-Park good. This is Judy-at-Carnegie-Hall good. This is REAL good." A moment when you look at the man who has made you feel alive for the first time and complete in a new-found way, and you say to him, "What the F*CK was your name again?" And he tells you and you repeat it slowly and you realize that somehow you have always known that would be his name.
Right, Phyllis?
Updated On: 3/29/14 at 12:58 AM
