They’d been calling me Al for years, so I didn’t have to tell them that I’d changed my name from Alice to Alex. My short hair hadn’t been mentioned - I’d had it short third grade through seventh grade, after all, only growing it out at my mom’s insistence.
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Afterwards, debating Denny’s versus Friendly’s, we veered down the hallway toward the movie theater’s bathrooms. We went to the movies, five of us crammed into someone’s mom’s sedan. And also because now at 17 I was, for the first time in my life, a boy. And, for me, because though I had known these boys since preschool, I had gone away every September for the last four years to a prep school. Second, because none of us owned a car and the nearest movie theater was 40 minutes from our rural Maine town. First, because we all worked odd jobs with odd hours.
I’d been back in my hometown for a week or so, and a bunch of us decided to go to the movies together. Home for the summer from boarding school, that awkward and potent summer between high school and college, I was working as a dishwasher. I’d been living as a guy for about a year. The first time I used a men’s room with friends - friends who’d known me from before, friends who’d known me my whole life - I was a few weeks shy of my eighteenth birthday. And maybe they were washing their hands when I was leaving, and that’s why I’m thinking I probably didn’t wash my hands. Both at the urinals, and so their backs were toward me when I entered. I do remember that there were other men in the room. I can’t remember if I washed my hands or not. I made a beeline for the stalls, which were the same as the stalls in every women’s room I’d ever used in my first 17 years of life. In fact, I didn’t see most of it as I walked in, head down and turned slightly away from the line of urinals. I looked about 14, probably, with my hair freshly cut short, my head still feeling light and buoyant after getting rid of the ponytail I’d carried through most of high school. (She was filling in for Goddess Isis, whose basement flooded earlier in the day - the basement where she keeps all her drag.) Natalia Kills took the stage around 1:30 a.m., after coming from Bearlesque where she watched and reportedly loved an all-bear’d-up version of her song, “ Problem.The first time I used a men’s room, I was 17 years old. Prancing about all the while was MC-substitute drag diva Satine Harlow. Promptly at 9 p.m., toned and tanned go-go boys took the stage in their undies to gyrate their hips around glowing, rainbow-colored hula hoops as chiseled men in their crotch-clutching swimsuits trickled into the venue.
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(probably because of Tabu’s Bearlesque at 10), the euphoric sex-on-the-beach atmosphere was full throttle from the get-go.
And though the summer soiree didn’t heat up until shortly after 11 p.m. Titillating twinks, beefy bears, macho muscle studs, a bevy of queens gawking from a distance - to be sure, there was no lack of diversity (or sexual chemistry) populating this year’s Main Event. If your gay-boy libido didn’t kick into overdrive at PhillyGa圜alendar’s Boys of Summer event on Saturday at Voyeur, you should probably see a doctor - pronto.