Page 222 - Some Dance to Remember

192 Jack Fritscher

they already are by birth—but how they are to stand four-square
with some dignity against the national religious standard of what
is sexually “correct.” That is our perversity. We reject the very
essence so dear to the hearts of the residents of Straight Street who
require everyone to be like they are. “Like seeks like” is okay for
them; why is “like seeks like” not okay for us? When we choose to
reject the way they are, we call their own standards for themselves
in doubt. We make them think about the way they are. When
spouses are angry and children are unruly, we are their visions of
otherness. They envy us for our freedom from their trap. Their
envy turns to hate. They know nothing about our trap while we
ironically know everything about theirs.
I have chosen to celebrate manhood, not fatherhood, not hus-
bandry, not anything defined in relation to women and children.
My vocation is not to the Church. It is not to homosexual politics.
It is only to the fraternity of men.
I suck dick because it smells, tastes, feels, sounds, and looks
good.
I suck dick to scare people.
So fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.

Ryan had that edge of inborn gay rage to live up to his identity. That
intensity was his virtue. Against all odds, maybe his vice. Teddy could not
withstand Ryan’s passion. Kick was reveling in it. That was the difference
between lover Number One and lover Number Two. Ryan’s fervor lay in
his pagan nature, rebelling against his Catholicism. Even so, he sought
Gemini balance. His strict self-discipline, drilled into him by Monsignor
Linotti at Misericordia, led to the peculiar rarefication of his soul that
only ordained priests, totally committed to their faith, pagan or not, can
understand.
“For some comic relief,” Solly said to January, “why don’t you ask me
about my Brand-X homosexuality. I’m very content with my boys. Plural.
Ry wants only one extraordinary bodybuilder god.”
“What’s so great about your street hustlers,” Ryan said. “Twenty-five
cents a pound.”
January sprang to attention. She moved closer to Solly.
“My boys earn their money because they’re men.” He was determined
to be grand with January to get even with Ryan shoveling his hip-deep
bull. “In America, money is the only way of keeping score. My boys are
hustlers the way everybody is a hustler. They’re entrepreneurs. They’re

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