talking about. I know I was curious; she didn’t pressure me. I was not
blackmailed. I wanted to do it.
Now that I have done it and there have been pictures and
everything, a lot of people have asked me why I agreed to let Marie put
makeup on my face. At first, my response wasn’t much more than, “Well,
why not?” It was harmless, I was safe, and I was trying something new
with my best friend. But when my oldest friends saw the picture they
said they were “appalled” and “disturbed.” I should have asked them why,
because I think their response to me wearing makeup is weirder than me
actually wearing makeup. I’m not saying every man in the world needs
to try makeup, and I don’t think trying it makes me special or any better
than anyone else, but a photograph of your friend in makeup disturbs
you?
When my mom saw the pictures, she asked, “Is there something
you want to tell me?” There it is: the unasked question, “Are you gay?”
and “If not, do you want people to think you’re gay?”
I was in the third grade when I first heard someone use the word
“gay.” I asked one of the other boys what it meant. “It means