Bush will not designate June as Gay Pride Month. You know, I feel like I shouldn’t be angry. I feel like after four and a half months I should be used to things like this. But I am angry. It’s not like it would have been such a big step to do this; after all, Clinton did it. In situations like this, I find it’s helpful to ask: If you substitute the word “black” or “Jewish” or “Asian” for “gay,” would the outcome be different? Asking this question usually reveals the truth behind all those cowardly excuses and subconscious rationalizations such as “[Bush] does not believe in politicizing people�s sexual orientation. That�s a personal matter.� Seeing as how Bush proclaimed Black History Month back in February (and rightly so), the answer to the above question is yes, which makes this reprehensible.

It’s not like Gay Pride Month is cancelled. (“Okay, guys! Send back all the Bud Lite!”) But it’s not the practical effects that are important here. It’s the symbolism. Symbolism goes a long way. Yes, I will grant you that Clinton signed the Defense of Marriage Act and implemented don’t-ask-don’t-tell, both of which had more than symbolic repercussions. But on the other hand, the pathbreaking respect and attention that he gave to gay voters beginning in 1992 — even if you take the most cynical view that he did this only in order to gain the gay vote and appear compassionate and open-minded, a view I’m not sure I hold — really contributed to a sea change in this country’s perception of gay people and its discussion of gay issues. In light of this, Bush’s action here — or more appropriately, non-action — comes off seeming close-minded, reactionary, childish, snitty, and incredibly passive-aggressive.

I really don’t know how I’m going to get through the next 43 1/2 months — or, God forbid, 91 1/2 months — of this presidency.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
   Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
   One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
   One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
   One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

This always has, and always will, give me chills. And just the sight of the word Nazgûl makes me want to run and cower underneath under my blanket. Whatever you call them — the Nazgûl, the Black Riders, the Ringwraiths — they’ve always been the most terrifying beings I’ve ever read about.

I first read The Hobbit back in third grade. Soon after that, I began reading part one of the trilogy, The Fellowship of the Ring, but I never finished it. In fifth grade I started over, and this time I got halfway through part two, The Two Towers, but again I never got around to finishing it. Finally, ten years ago, during the summer after my high school graduation, I read the whole thing, all the way through the end of Return of the King, even though I’d seen the animated film and pretty much already knew how the trilogy turned out. Wonderful, wonderful. (Except for the last hundred pages or so, which seem so excruciatingly boring and anticlimactic.)

Last night, after reading the first part of Andrew O’Hehir’s exegesis of the trilogy in Salon yesterday, I picked up my copy of The Fellowship of the Ring and began reading it again. (These are the versions I have.) I don’t know if I want to trudge all the way through Middle-Earth all over again, but it’s nice just to delve back into it and look at the wonderful names of characters and places. Who knows — maybe I’ll get sucked back in. The first half of Fellowship is a frightening masterpiece of tension and suspense. I can say that I eagerly await the release of the film version of the first book in December.

The road goes ever on and on…

Stealth Cutie

I forgot to mention Stealth Cutie. Have you ever known a stealth cutie — someone about whom you have said to yourself, “Why didn’t I realize until now just how cute this person is?” or “Why did my subconscious wait so long to tell me about this?” Well, I encountered a stealth cutie this weekend. He was a member of my high school graduating class. I always knew who he was — my class had only about 100 people in it — but for some reason it wasn’t until this weekend that I was fully aware of his adorableness. He wasn’t around on Friday night, but someone mentioned that he’d be showing up the following evening, and I thought to myself, “Oh really? Well, that would be terrific,” without even realizing that I was thinking it. But my subconscious must have known what was going on.

On Saturday night, there he was. He didn’t come to the restaurant, but he showed up at the Culture Club afterwards. He’s only an inch or two taller than me, and he has dark hair and dark eyes and eyebrows — Caucasian, but with sort of a Mediterranean or Italian or Eastern European look. He was wearing a pair of glasses with narrow tortoise-shell frames. And he looked adorable. I felt this instant visceral attraction to him, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I looked at him and I was in love.

Stealth Cutie went to law school, and now he works in Manhattan as a litigation consultant. He’s a really nice, soft-spoken guy. And… he’s married. To a woman, of course.

Damn.

Another gay member of my high school class, whom I’ll call Joe, was at the club, too, and at one point, over the din of the music, I shouted to him how incredibly cute and adorable I thought Stealth Cutie was and how if he weren’t straight I would totally marry him. I might have said something sexual, too, I’m not sure.

I got to talk with Stealth Cutie on the dance floor for a little while. And later, a few of us were taking a break from dancing and were sitting on some bleachers against a wall, and he came up to sit with us. Two of us were sitting at the top row with a space between us, and he sat right there between us. None of us really said anything — we just kind of sat there, relaxing, listening to the music and watching the crowd.

Later, back on the dance floor, when Stealth Cutie was shouting his goodbyes to everyone, he gave me his business card. I was flattered and moved and internally excited, because he didn’t give his card to the other people who were around at that moment. But hey, we both went to law school and we both live in the New York area, so maybe he felt some sort of connection to me.

And then yesterday I was talking with Joe again, because he’d invited me to go to Queens Pride with him and his boyfriend. (“Queens” as in the borough of New York City. Otherwise, the name would have been redundant.) And Joe told me that Stealth Cutie had overheard all my enthusiastic effusiveness about him. He’d been standing nearby, and I had been shouting because the music was so loud, but apparently I’d been shouting too loudly. I wasn’t even drunk. Anyway, I guess Stealth Cutie must have said something afterwards.

So Joe told me about this and I was mortified. He told me I shouldn’t be, that Stealth Cutie was probably flattered. I guess that’s true. It’s embarrassing, though! I tend to be a tad uncomfortable around straight guys who know I’m gay, because I’m afraid they’ll think (or know) that I find them attractive, and I don’t know how they’ll react to me. But I guess if a guy is secure enough in his heterosexuality, it won’t bother him. Obviously Stealth Cutie wasn’t bothered by it since he gave me his business card.

But it’s still embarrassing.

Oh, Stealth Cutie… I’d love to meet a gay guy who looks like you.