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We rented a one-bedroom apartment on the upper west side in NYC. Neither one of us had any money or any sensibility when it came to home furnishings.The previous tenants left nails on the wails where framed paintings had been; my brother hung his work suits on them.It is very strange to leave a protected majority, where society sanctions and respects your relationship, to become part of a discreet and insular minority, where you're a target of open prejudice and hostility. Remember, federally recognized gay marriages are only five minutes old.

At that time I was married to a man, and I thought Michelle was talking about some people who wanted to breed cocker spaniels.

I'd heard about sperm banks and babies, of course, but I'd never really given them much thought except to wonder at the logistics behind the donation process.

It was not a very happy time in my life, and I can't say it's particularly easy to write about these things. "But I do sometimes have a paranoid fantasy about pulling out Dick Cheney's fingernails and shipping them along with a box of lemons to Laura Bush." He told me to take St.

Nobody wants to think back to a time when your life was lonely and scary, before podcasts were invented and you had to hold up your mini tape recorder to the speakers by the computer and hope the phone wouldn't ring so you could listen to during your third loop around Central Park. John's Wort and a tincture called kava kava root, and even though this detail is in no way germane to the story, I'd like to take a moment to suggest that before you decide to go on heavy pharmaceuticals or to swallow leftover Percoset with your Jim Beam as a palliative for psychological malaise, that you take a gander at the kava kava root.

Once I drove to Berkeley by myself to watch a documentary about gay families.

The interviewer asked a little girl who had two fathers how she felt about "gay rights." She said, "Um, I don't really know what that is." I left my house and my friends in San Francisco and moved in with my younger brother, who was also going through a break-up.

I was thirty-one when my marriage cracked open and the mess oozed out.

Figuring out that I was gay was a pittance in comparison to my fears around not being able to have a family.

I tried to stay upbeat about it, but I was born in the late sixties and most lesbians my age had gone through years of torment and angst in the eighties when they were coping with either being completely out as a gay or hiding that they were gay, and these women had their work to do before they could acceptably function in a healthy relationship, IMHO.

I recall one woman who lived a few blocks away from me, a wine seller, who invited me to her huge, modern apartment somewhere around 85th and Broadway.

At one point I was having real panic attacks, so I called a very close friend who runs a health food store in Willow Grove, Pennsylvania. That stuff, along with a leisurely eleven-hour jog to Sheepshead Bay, did wonders for my state of mind.

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