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In answer to the request in #26: there was the time a friend of mine
and I traveled to Santa Barbara just for a day of fun. He was very
tall and I liked his looks very much, but I could never figure out
his orientation. Anyway, it seemed encouraging to me that he did
take the trip with me. We walked around for a day, looking in shops,
walking near the beach - it was all very nice. And then we checked
into the hotel and lo and behold, there was only one king sized bed
in the room. I professed surprise (I had made the reservation) and
tossed off some weak comment like, "Oh well, guess we'll just have
to choose up sides." After talking and watching TV for a while, it
was time to get under the covers, both of us just in our briefs.
We talked a bit more in the dark (I dont remember about what) and
then it got quiet for a while. I stretched my arm up in the air like
I was stretching, adn pulled the covers down a bit. He then also
stretched his hand up. I couldn"t resist - I let my hand casually
drift over to his and we held hands. We both giggled a bit and pulled
close to each other. It was a great night!

I swear the following is absolutely true. I wouldn't believe it if
I read it but it happened just the way that follows.
I was 20, a sophmore at UCLA and during the previous couple of months
I had come out of the closet with a bang. I figured it was my duty
as a straight-appearing man to let everyone know that gays are not
just a bunch of fairies looking for any dick in a storm.
Anyway I went home to Newport to visit my parents and see a few old
surfing buddies. I was prepared to tell them exactly what was going
on in my life. Some I knew would be cool; others I was worried about.
One of those was Bill. He was a career lifeguard. The perfect blonde
hunk. Saturday night we were sitting around his place, having gone
through almost a case of beer between the two of us, and I said,
"Bill, I have to tell you something."
He smiled and said, "Sure, guy, whatever."
"Bill. I'm Gay."
"No way! Not you! Did something happen in school. I mean one thing
doesn't mean..."
I interrupted him. "I'm gay. I'm sure."
He looked at me and I tried reading his thoughts. I remembered the
time we cruised by the Little Shrimp in Laguna and Bill leaned out
the window to yell,"Fags!"
I waited. And waited. Finally I asked, "So, what do you think?"
He answered in a low, quiet voice, "Can't you tell?"
I answered, exasperated, "No! Tell me!"
"Look at my pants." I looked; I didn't see anything. He continued,
"I've had a fantasy for a long time about making it with you or Mike.
I want you to prove to me you're really gay. I want you to do to
me whatever gay guys do to each other."
I looked at his pants again. Now I saw it. A big, hard cock, just
poking its head through the leg. I couldn't believe it. Bill. Mr.
Macho had a fantasy for me. But I knew it was impossible; I wasn't
going to fall for the oldest line in the book about "proving it."
But I did.