"I'll start by stating what my secret is not. I am not a homosexual. Admittedly, I do have a taste for the baroque one does not typically encounter in men, but this has done nothing to diminish my appetite for heterosexual love-making. These traits needn't be mutually exclusive, and only the most provincial of minds would insist otherwise.
*From 1983 to 1987, I lived the debauched life of a bona fide alcoholic. At the pinnacle of this period, I administered oral sex to a strange woman in front of the guests at a Winter Solstice celebration. The hostess was kind enough to allow this woman to climax before asking us to leave. Several hours later, I awoke on a park bench to find myself completely naked beneath my overcoat. In my left pocket, I found the blood-drenched tail of a squirrel.
*I must premise this secret with a disavowal of sorts: I donate large sums of money to N.O.W. each year and would consider myself either a feminist (for those who think it possible for a man to be a proper feminist) or a feminist-sympathizer (for those who think it impossible). That being said, I have yet to meet a woman I find more searingly attractive than ERA-opponent Phyllis Schlafly. Her politics may be unspeakably repugnant and rank with hypocrisy, but I sense an earthy sensuality about her that I find thoroughly disarming. In my fantasies I picture her laboring in a muggy kitchen, her hands glistening with egg whites and the guts of animals. We make love on the butcher's block, her magnificent freckled legs locked around me and her slimy hands buried in my hair. When we are finished, she lightly punches my arm and says 'I could fuck you forever, Jewels.'*Contrary to Erica Jong's famous assertion that all people love the smell of their own flatulence, I find that my own gas is not nearly as enticing as the gas of others. In the privacy of my own head, I plead with those around me to share the pungent odor of their inner body so that I might feel less alone. I often regret having cultivated such an urbane lifestyle which denies me this singular pleasure due to its perceived violation of decorum. "
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