Mark had taught me to confront people about my misgivings.  So on Monday following Donna's Dance Intervention, I marched over to Mark's office to give him a hard time.  Without bothering to knock, I flung open his door and demanded Mark confess he had put Donna up to dragging me out of my comfy chair.  Mark didn't even bother to fib.  He simply lifted his hands in the air and surrendered.

"Guilty as charged!  I have been bad and I deserve to be punished.  Will you spank me, please?"

I laughed in spite of myself.  "Yes, indeed, you've been a very bad boy! Maybe I will paddle you, but not with my bare hands.  You would like that too much.  Do you have a ruler handy?"

When Mark quickly offered me the ruler on his desk, we both laughed.  I put my hands on my hips and wagged my finger in mock anger.

"Mark, you are a terrible person!  What made you do that?"

"Oh my God, Rick, you were ruining my party!  Seriously, you should see yourself some time.  You really are a picklepuss.  How am I supposed have a lively party with a giant blob taking up conspicuous space?  Seeing you frown all night long like a dark hole of misery, I couldn't take the risk of having you ruin everything.  Frankly, I got sick and tired of watching you stay rooted to that chair all night, so I took things into my own hands.  I enlisted Donna into my little conspiracy and she was more than happy to comply."

I felt sheepish as Mark paused to congratulate himself with a pat on his back.  Then he resumed.

"Hey, I feel no guilt.  In fact, I'm glad I did it.  The girls said you were very stubborn about cooperating.  Donna told me you are strong as an ox.  I told her you actually are an ox.  I promised if you gave her any more trouble in the future I would purchase a cattle prod.  I think that's what you need.  Isn't it about time you rejoined the human race?"

I nodded quietly.  Mark was right.  I had been in mourning for Rachel for two solid weeks.  It was time to return to the land of the living.  Besides, when I realized how proud Mark was for getting me out on the dance floor, I was tickled.  I had come into Mark's office ready to chew him out for being so sneaky, but ended up thanking him profusely for his help.

"Out of curiosity, how long have you been doing Casa Mark?"

"Oh, not long.  We started the first Saturday in November.  It is just now starting to catch on.  Last Saturday was our biggest night yet.  My party is getting so successful that I have decided to continue through December.  So, I have a question.  Do I have to beg you to come again or will you come willingly to our next Casa Mark extravaganza?  And will you behave this time?"

I smiled.  "I would enjoy watching you beg, but no, it isn't necessary.  Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Do I need to purchase that cattle prod?"

"That won't be necessary.  I think I am ready to start dancing under my own power."

We both laughed and I went back to my office.  Thanks to a helping hand from Mark, I had crossed a giant hurdle.  I was excited to know there would be another Casa Mark party.  This time I planned to dance my butt off.  This was the opportunity of my dreams.  I still lacked the courage to go to a club and ask a lady I did not know to dance, but I could see myself asking one of the lesbian ladies to dance.  Since I was not attracted to them, I did not fear their rejection or their judgment.  Why take it personal if they turned me down?  They weren't interested in men, so their turn-down had nothing to do with me.  Phobia would have at best greatly diminished power at Casa Mark.  However, I would avoid Mariah.  She was the kind of woman whose rejection I did fear.  The other women posed no problem.

Encouraged by my talk in Mark's office, that night I returned to the Magic Mirror full force.  As I practiced, I still could not get over how difficult it was for me to summon the courage to take a risk.  Without Mark and Donna's Intervention last Saturday, I guarantee I would have never left that chair.  I was angry at myself.  This sickness of mine refused to ease up.  I was grateful for Mark's intervention, but I did not know how I would have broken through this mental barrier otherwise.  Why couldn't I do the right thing on my own initiative?  Why did I always have to depend on some Fateful event to get me over the latest hump?  Who would help me the next time I got stuck?  I needed to be more like Rachel, a young lady who deliberately sought out adventure.  Rachel didn't wait, she took matters into her own hands.  Amen to that.  In the future, I would try to be braver when the next obstacle arose.  I had no Rachel and no career, but at least I was dancing again.  Mark had done me a huge favor.  As for my next career, well, I guess I'll think about that tomorrow.

The first party at Casa Mark had given me several things to think about.  There were quite a few people there, maybe 50 or 60 after adding all the people who came and went.  Yes, there had been many women at the party just as Mark had promised.  Most of them were obvious lesbians, but there were three or four women I wasn't so sure about.  For example, what about Mariah?  The jury was out on her.  And what about Frances, the older woman I had asked to dance at the end of the party?  She had blushed just like a lady pleased to receive an offer to dance from a man.  Frances had smiled appreciatively, then offered me her hand to help her out of her seat.  She seemed genuinely happy to be asked to dance.  Not only that, after the song ended, she stuck around to talk to me.  If I didn't know better, Frances might be 'straight'.  Not that I was interested in her romantically, but what was the story with her?

At the Second Casa Mark party, I again looked for the shy girl from the Galveston trip who had kept her swimsuit on.  No luck.  Oh well.  I was disappointed, but I didn't let that stop me.  I was on a mission.  This time I wasted no time looking for someone to dance with.  As I walked around the house looking for potential dance partners, I found Frances from the previous week.  She was chatting with two matronly women at the buffet table.  I had seen those two women last week and had wondered about them as well.  Pretending to show interest in the food, I briefly listened to their conversation and decided they were busy.  Maybe I could ask Frances to dance later on.  Just then one of the two matronly ladies disengaged from the potato chips long enough to look up. 

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you.  I saw you here last week with those two women dragging you out of that chair.  What was that all about?"

Her name was Lucy.  Standing next to her was Lucy's friend Jill.  "But just call me Juicy," Jill said.  "That's my nickname.  Lucy and I are separated at birth twin sisters."

No kidding about the twin sisters.  They could have fooled me.  Lucy and Juicy were roly-poly ladies about 45 years old.  They had conservative hair styles that reminded me of aging school teachers.  They wore comfortable dresses to disguise ample bosoms and considerable girth.  Juicy and Lucy laughed as I explained what had been going on with Donna dragging me out the chair.  Just like that, I made two new friends.  One thing led to another and pretty soon I was dancing with both of them at the same time.  The nice thing about Freestyle is that three is not a crowd, so Frances decided to join in.  Four is not a crowd either.  I enjoyed their company.

Juicy and Lucy were not exactly my type.  They were quite plump, quite plain, quite old.  However I did not care about their frumpy appearance.  I liked them because they were funny and friendly in a non-threatening way.  They were both quite sarcastic and knew how to make me laugh.  I could not believe some of the things that came out of their mouths.  Pretty soon I was making wisecracks too.  Some of the men who overheard our conversation laughed along with us.  The swimming pool conversations at Gay Siberia had prepared me well for gay-speak.  With these two women unknowingly functioning as bookend bodyguards, I felt safe at Casa Mark.

I fell silent for a moment.  This was the first time I had laughed since Rachel left three weeks ago.  Lucy and Jill were bringing me out of my shell and I loved them for it.  The three of us danced all night long.  Noting our 20 year age difference, Juicy said she was thinking about adopting me so I could take care of her in her old age.  Juicy promised the pleasure she would bring me would be well worth ignoring our difference in age.  I was about to accept her offer, but bit my tongue for fear Juicy might take me seriously.  Juicy was a full-figured lady who might actually outweigh me.  Wearing some sort of outfit designed by Omar the Tentmaker, I shuddered to think what Juicy was hiding under there.  I did not want to know.  For my own safety, I wisely decided to stick to Gloria for those sort of needs.

The following Monday, I asked Mark about Jill and Lucy.

"Are Jill and Lucy partners in a romantic sense?  I got the impression they were just friends.  They also seemed straight.  Jill was a lot more interested in me than she was in Lucy.  What do you think?"

"Lucy and Jill are Mariah's friends.  They work in a different branch of the Welfare Department.   As for their 'orientation', they are probably straight, but maybe not for long.  Mariah believes they have given up on men."

Mark paused to flash me an evil grin.  "Gee, Rick, maybe you should do the girls a favor and give them reason to reconsider."

"They are not my type.  But I do like them.  What are they doing at your party?"

Mark explained that some women are just as terrified of men as I was of women.  That surprised me.  I could not imagine anyone more scared of the opposite sex than me.

"Rick, there are lots of women like Juicy and Lucy who enjoy socializing with gay men.  Gay men do not threaten them.  Women like Jill and Lucy are not sexually attracted to gay men and the men aren't interested in them either.  They can all have a good time without sexual tension in the air.  In particular, the girls love the flamboyance and catty sarcasm gay men are famous for.  Everyone gets along famously.  No surprise there.  Effeminate gay men are practically girls themselves.  When the gay boys and the shy ladies get together, girls just want to have fun." 

In addition to Jill and Lucy, I had noticed Frances and another lady named Hilda did not seem to be lesbians.  Mark confirmed I was right about them too.  Like Jill and Lucy, the other two women did not seem to care about their appearance.  None of the four women wore any makeup and they all wore dresses so large they would have fit over my shoulders.  I guessed these women saw no reason to fix themselves up, most likely because the Dating Game was out of the question given their Saturday night destination.  These women appreciated having a fun social outlet where they would not feel threatened.  The Gay Community was perfect for their need.

"Is there some reason none of those women care about their appearance?"

Mark said, "Lucy and Jill are a couple of misfits.  They let their figures go, so now their boobs are closer to their knees than their noses.  They are too embarrassed to hang out in the Straight World.  Gays have nicknames for these kind of women... Fag Hags, Fruit Flies."

I winced.  Mark was being particularly blunt.  "Mark, what exactly is a Fruit Fly?"

"A Fruit Fly is a woman who hangs around with gay men.  Some women can't wait to get out on the dance floor along with the men.  Just because they aren't dating men anymore doesn't mean they want to stop dancing.  The Gay World gives them an option to party and ignore the straight world where they don't fit in any longer."

'Where they don't fit in...'  Hmm.  There was something about that expression that bothered me. 

Mark was right about Lucy and Jill.  Despite the hostility inherent in the nicknames, there could be no denying that Lucy, Jill and various other non-lesbian women in the group enjoyed hanging out with Mark and his gay friends.  Mark was mother hen to a wide circle indeed.  Of the 40, 50, 60 or so people who had floated in and out of his parties over the past two weeks, I would guess as many as eight women were straight.  Or maybe some were bisexual.  These women seemed just as lonely as me.  I guess that made me a misfit too. 

"Mark, I have a question.  You say that Lucy and Jill avoid the Straight World because they do not fit in.  What about me?  What is my category?  I am not a Fruit Fly or a Fag Hag, but I am definitely a social misfit in my own way.  So what do gays call straight guys who hang out with gay men?"

Mark shook his head in consternation.  "I can't think of a name.  I've never had a straight man hang out with us before."  Mark paused to think.  "I don't know, how about 'Confused'?  Sorry, but 'Confused' is the best I can do.  Or in denial.  That's what Freud would say.  What would you call yourself?" 

I frowned, but said nothing.  Mark stared at me for a moment.  "Now that I think about it, you are one of a kind.  I have to admit I have never run across a situation like yours before.  That's why we don't have a term coined for you.  The men I know who still show interest in women are considered bisexual.  Are you bisexual?  If so, why haven't you confessed yet?" 

"No, Mark, I am not bisexual.  But I am definitely a stranger in a strange land."

MY IRRESISTIBLE GIRLFRIENDS

For my third week of Saturday night dancing at Casa Mark, I rolled my eyes when I saw Pat and Donna slow dance together.  I had never seen two women dance close before.   With a deep sigh, I reminded myself I was still new to Mark's world.

At first I danced exclusively with Lucy and Juicy, but this week I branched out and danced with some of the lesbian ladies such as Donna, my Intervention benefactor.  The lesbian women in Mark's group eyed me with suspicion at first.  However, once they realized I was a friend of Mark's and saw me dancing with Donna, they didn't mind dancing with me.  They just needed to know I was safe.  For that matter, Mark asked me to dance.  Sure, why not?  He never touched me, so what difference did it make?

Mark's Saturday night parties continued every Saturday in December.  I was a regular now and looked forward to each party.  Saturdays at Casa Mark was a main event on my weekly social calendar along with basketball and volleyball.  Now that I had met Lucy and Juicy, I was having fun.  I felt very much at ease dancing with these women.  Not only was my dancing improving, I was making progress with my fear of women laughing at my dancing.  I blessed Mark again for the Intervention.  I was so grateful to Mark for his Casa Mark parties.  Mark had singlehandedly solved my Dilemma.  Prior to Casa Mark, I was upset that I had no courage to go out and ask some strange girl to dance at a club.  Consequently I never improved.  This strange world of lesbians and fruit flies was perfect for my needs.  They didn't want me and I didn't want them.  Let's dance. 

I was finally getting a much-needed chance to practice dancing in the Real World.  Well, maybe not the 'Real World' I was used to, but you know what I mean.  Mark's dance parties were a definite upgrade over staring at myself in the Magic Mirror.  If I kept practicing in Mark's Gay World long enough, maybe my Magic Mirror fantasies of beautiful women willing to dance with me would come true someday. 

Lucy and Juicy had a way of making me laugh.  They treated me like some sort of gift they had won in a drawing.  They loved to tease me.  One night Lucy and Juicy said the adoption papers had come through.  For the entire party, they announced to anyone dumb enough to listen that Lucy had decided I was her long lost son.  The joke made Lucy happy, so I played along and called her Mom for a while.  I probably shouldn't have encouraged this nonsense because things got crazier every week.  For example, the following week they told anyone dumb enough to listen that they were bodacious women who had the power to exploit me sexually, but so far had abstained for my own good.  They expected to be rewarded in Heaven for their noble, almost saintly sacrifice.  The following week they told anyone dumb enough to listen that they had changed their mind.  When I pointed out Lucy was supposed to be my mother, she remarked that if incest was good enough for the royal family of England, it was good enough for us. 

Like I said, the things that came out of their mouth.  The following week, Lucy announced that she could tell how much I desired her, but I was much too innocent and might develop Oedipal problems.  I told Lucy she was right, adding that older women should not prey on defenseless children.  Juicy, however, disagreed.  She felt it was her duty to teach me how to deal with predatory women like Lucy.  When I asked Juicy what she had in mind, Juicy replied that she would attempt to seduce me tonight so I could see how it was done.  But what if her seduction worked?  In that case, Juicy said she would be obligated to make love, but only with extreme sensitivity to my vulnerable state.  Lucy interrupted and reminded Juicy they were both too old for me, adding that once I had sex with such voluptuous women, I could never return to girls my own age.  Juicy reluctantly agreed.  When I heard that announcement, I raised an eyebrow.  Gloria was older than both women, but that didn't seem to stop her.  Jill and Lucy's age made no difference to me, but their weight did.  These women had the potential to accidentally suffocate me.  Nevertheless, I thought it would be fun to tease them for a change.

"Lucy, why would you do this to me?  First you entice me, then you turn your back.  I don't care if you are my mother, I don't see you that way.  When we dance together I get so worked up with desire.  Now you tell me there is no hope.  Please reconsider, I beg of you."

Lucy replied, "I understand how irresistible I am.  However, after careful deliberation, Juicy and I have decided not to exploit you." 

Now it was Juicy's turn to chime in.  "Due to my vast sexual experience, I know secrets of pleasure that would drive you to ecstasy.  However, Lucy is right.  I cannot in good conscience allow that to happen.  If I were to satisfy you, I fear you would follow me around like a hungry stray begging for more.  You would never be able to disengage.  This would be a shame, because the day will come when it is too late for you to marry and have children.  You would fail to reproduce and your line would perish.  There would be no baby Archers to let their arrows fly into the next generation.  I cannot let this happen.  Lucy and I will remain chaste."

I grinned.  "You are so noble, Juicy, but that is a chance I am willing to take.  It is true that I am a naive, long-suffering innocent who needs guidance in these matters.  Due to my inexperience, you and Lucy are in the perfect position to educate me in the ways of love.  As your adopted son, surely it is okay for adopted mothers to increase my carnal knowledge."

Lucy responded first.  "I could teach you considerable lessons in Art of Love, but that would unfair.  You would become psychologically unable to disengage."

"But, Lucy, I am willing to take that chance.  Why tempt me like this?  Your teasing is such torture.  My hands yearn to touch you when we dance."

Now it was Juicy's turn.  "Yes, I can see how that you would feel that way.  It must be difficult for you to resist us, me in particular.  I don't dare let you touch me.  When I move the way I like to move, men have trouble keeping their hands off my enticing breasts.  Maybe you should just dance with Lucy from now on.  She is much easier to resist."

That crack earned Jill a well-deserved thump on the side of her head from Lucy.  I laughed so hard my sides hurt. 

"I have a question, Jill, how did you get your Juicy nickname?"

Jill said, "Juicy and Lucy sounds better than Bosom Buddies, our previous nickname.  I hated it so I asked Mark to change it to something else.  Lucy and Juicy was Mark's idea."

I admired their ample curves with a smile.  "You're right, 'Lucy and Juicy' is better.  I don't know, Juicy, I don't know if I can quit you.  Same for you, Lucy.  You women are undeniable paragons of temptation.  But you're probably right.  If I were to enter your love nest, I might never be able to fly away.  I guess I will have to suffer for my own good."

And so it went, back and forth.  First the men at Gay Siberia taught me how to talk dirty, now Juicy and Lucy were extending my education from a woman's perspective.  When we weren't exchanging taunts and come-ons, we would dance.  Lucy and Jill would grab me and haul me out there whenever a song came on they liked.  I didn't mind a bit.  Not only was I getting much-needed practice at dancing, I learned I had the ability to shoot the bull with women as well.  It helped that they were 20 years older and 50 pounds heavier.   But what about talking to girls my own age?  Unless a woman I was attracted to made the first move, I had no idea how to break the ice.

Monday, DECEMBER 9, 1974, the lost years

ELENA

After my big night of dancing with Juicy and Lucy at Casa Mark, I returned home and practiced shooting pool.  I had fun exchanging quips with the two ladies.  Trust me, it was all tongue in cheek.  I had no intention of hitting on either woman and they knew it.  To be honest, I had conversational skills.  What I did not have was the ability to make small talk with people I did not know well.  Small talk had long been a major weakness both with men and women, but especially with attractive girls my age.

Thank goodness Rachel had made the first move.  That made all the difference.  But what if the next girl expected me to make the first move?  I had no idea how to ask questions or offer compliments to get a woman I barely knew to talk to me.  Now was the time to learn.

I had identified a rather obvious flaw in my Dance strategy.  What if there was no music and no dance floor?  If I could talk to a woman no matter what the occasion, that would come in handy.  I felt a real urgency to tackle this project before the next Rachel came along.  If I ever did get a second chance to meet another woman of Rachel's caliber, I would kill myself if I was unable to approach for lack of what to say.  Who knows, if I could improve my conversational skills, I might not need to rely on dance to get to First Base.

I believed I could overcome my overwhelming shyness, but easier said than done.  Where do I start?  I did not have much of a personality around women my age.  My acne problem and underdog status had robbed me of precious chances to talk to girls in high school.  Going to a men's college prolonged the problem.  I was 25 years old, but my conversational skills around women I did not know were little better than that of a teenage boy. 

I needed to solve this problem.  Fortunately, unlike my Dance Project, this task was not hopeless.  I did not lack talking ability.  On the contrary, Dr. Fujimoto thought I talked too much.  Criticized and humiliated in countless ways over a three-month period, this series of withering rebukes led the loss of my talking ability.  Thank goodness for the gay men at my apartment project.  They had initiated my road to recovery by schooling me in the art of talking dirty.  More recently Lucy and Juicy had taken up the gauntlet.  Due to our age difference, I could flirt outrageously.  But could I say the same things to a young woman I was attracted to?  No, of course not.  Even if I found the courage to talk to a girl my own age, I would not dare speak to her like I did to the Bosom Buddies. 

To fully conquer my Phobia, I needed to adapt my conversational skills to something acceptable to girls I was attracted to.  Here again I was back to Catch-22.  I needed someone to practice with, but I was too afraid to approach a young lady in my target audience if she was a stranger.  How do you gain experience if you are too afraid to gain experience?  Given where I lived, girls my age were non-existent.  Where could I find a pretty girl who would help me with my problem?  Hmm.  What about Elena? 

Elena was the Hispanic secretary in our unit who typed up casework progress reports.  In addition to being ridiculously pretty, she was also very nice.  From the moment I took the job in August 1974, I yearned to ask her out.  This started the moment I laid eyes on her.  This young lady was a real beauty along the lines of Natalie Wood.  Elena had light-brown complexion, long brown hair, brown eyes, and a soft, feminine demeanor.  Her eyes were Elena's best feature.  I would look into those big brown eyes and melt. 

Elena was a constant presence during my Lost Years.  Unfortunately, due to the fact that we worked together, it was look but don't touch.  Although we were friends, I wanted more.  I ached for Elena due to my constant loneliness.  One of the great mysteries is how Elena managed to stay single.  From what she told me, Elena never lacked for admirers.  However, to date she had not found that special guy.  The longer Elena stayed unattached, the more difficult it was for me to maintain my professional distance.  As of December 1974 I had managed to keep my feelings disguised.  But it wasn't easy.

Since I could not date Elena, why not practice talking to her?  What was the harm in that?  In addition to being ridiculously pretty, Elena was a captive audience.  Perfect.  And so my exquisitely beautiful secretary was chosen to fill this odd role in my life.  I began on a Monday in mid-December.  Ordinarily Elena was exactly the kind of girl who would stop me tongue-tied in my tracks.  However, since Elena was paid to speak to me, psychologically I was able to speak more freely around her than if she had been an actual candidate. 

Did Elena know what I was up to?  No.  Some might raise an eyebrow and ask how Elena would feel if she became aware of my tactics.  If Elena objected to my attention, I never noticed.   Confined to a small office with no windows and no companions, Elena had to feel isolated.  What was the harm in saying hello and adding a compliment here and there?  Careful not to impose on her good will, I kept it short.  One minute here, two minutes there.  I kept my chatter innocuous by pretending she was my sister.  If I could learn how to charm Elena, hopefully I would not freeze when the next Rachel came along. 

Unfortunately, in a manner similar to my slow start at dancing, my Small Talk project did not fare much better.  I quickly discovered I could not think on my feet.  Incapable of spontaneity, I was forced to rehearse in advance whatever clever comment I wanted to say before it was time to visit Elena's office across the hall.  My first breakthrough came the morning I told Elena how nice she looked today.  I did it without thinking.  They say flattery will get you anywhere, especially if it is sincere.  In this case, Elena beamed with pride.  Noting the effect my kind words had on her, I made a point to say something nice the first moment I saw Elena every morning.  

Whenever I would bring her progress reports to be typed up, first I would judge her mood.  If she seemed busy, I would say "Nice to see you this morning" and leave.  If she seemed relaxed, I would use the opportunity to appreciate a pretty dress or any change in her hair style.  I varied my compliments so they wouldn't seem quite so scripted.  Based on how Elena responded to my compliment, sometimes  I would I branch out from there.  Elena's beauty helped considerably.  She was so damn pretty that every compliment was heartfelt and sincere.  If Elena had protested, I would have stopped.  However, I kept it light and avoided long conversations.  All I did was think of one thing to say on each visit, see how she reacted, and plan accordingly for my next try.  To be honest, I doubt Elena had the slightest idea what I was up to.  Although it was all pretense, I suppose I sounded normal enough to the unsuspecting young lady.

Now I had two self-improvement projects, dancing and talking.  When my conscience reminded me about the career issue, I dismissed it.  Who cares about finding a career?  Christmas is around the corner, I will worry about it next year. 

THE SECRET IS OUT

Disco Dave said he was taking December off from his dance class.  See you in January.  I didn't care.  I was getting plenty of practice every Saturday night at Casa Mark.  Inspired that I was finally making progress, in addition I practiced religiously in the Magic Mirror.  As I approached Mark's house for our last party before Christmas, I was greeted by Christmas lights, Christmas tree, and festive wreaths.  I complimented Mark, but he pointed to Mariah and gave her all the credit.  Lucy, Juicy and I wasted no time getting the dancing started.  The three of us danced non-stop for an hour.  After all that dancing, we were spent.  No more dancing for a while.  We went outside to sit on the patio.  The weather was mild, so we relaxed and enjoyed the Christmas lights.  The jokes were soon flying. 

Lucy quipped, "Good grief, Rick, if you keep making us dance with you, I may up end up getting skinny again.  I've dropped two sizes since I met you.  If I get any skinnier, I am in real danger some guy will ask me out.  Perish the thought."

I noticed Lucy had worn a dress with a belt.  To my surprise, I realized her waist was now smaller than her bosom.  Hmm.  That was a first.  Maybe I was not the only one with a self-improvement project.  With a smile, I said, "No kidding, Lucy, you look great.  Forget about dating.  Just let me know when you're ready and I will claim you for myself.  Maybe one night I will sweep you off your feet."

Juicy exclaimed, "If so, make sure to land on top of her or it will be your funeral."

Lucy gave her a dirty look and the three of us grinned.  The insults and sex talk were off to a good start.  While we laughed, I was reminded what a mismatch we were.  I was 25 and the ladies were somewhere in their 40s.  I was tall, muscular and thin, Lucy was short, busty and plump.  Juicy was short, more busty and more plump.  Juicy had never met a potato chip she didn't like.  While Juicy made her obligatory visit to the buffet table, Lucy returned to the usual theme. 

"Rick, you are so lucky Jill and I have taken a vow of chastity in your regard.  One night of hotdog sex and you would never be the same." 

Curious, I asked, "What exactly is hotdog sex?"

"You're the hotdog and we are the buns."

I grinned at the thought.  Not only was it amusing to visualize, it was flattering to be propositioned so blatantly.  However, the odds of getting caught between the Plumpettes was remote.  We played this same game every week.  The women knew they could talk this way because I was impervious to temptation.  However it was not their weight that stopped me.  Their weight did not bother me at all.  My concern was the unspoken big sister-kid brother dynamic that would be lost if we acted on our fantasies.  I was convinced that crossing the line would ruin our friendship and I believe they knew it too.  We liked each other and that was all that mattered.  The funny thing is we never met beyond Mark's parties.  I didn't know a thing about their private lives.  I didn't know their phone number, where they lived or where they worked.  All I knew was I had a standing Saturday date to dance with these two and talk about sex, their acknowledged favorite subject.  With Christmas around the corner, I had known these ladies for a month.  I figured that was enough time to justify prying a little.  When Jill returned, I asked, "Ladies, can I ask a nosy question?"

The two ladies looked at each other and shrugged.  "Sure.  What do you want to know, our astrology sign?"

"By some chance, are you two girls an item?"

They both laughed and said no.  Lucy said, "We met at work and have been friends forever."

Juicy added, "We like each other's company, but we haven't crossed that line.  I still prefer men, but right now I am taking a break."

Lucy agreed.  "I feel the same way.  I've sort of given up on men, but I figure if the right guy came along, I would be willing to try again.  But for now, I'm taking a siesta." 

I frowned.  Their story wasn't any different from mine.  We were all in the same boat.  I hadn't exactly given up on women, but I was definitely taking a siesta.  For now, I was content to freestyle dance with my roly-poly girlfriends.  I visited my friend Gloria Robinson whenever the call of the wild got too strong, but when it came to girls my own age, Rachel had taken the wind out of my sails.

"Hey, girls, someone whose name shall remain anonymous once said that women who hang out with gay men are misfits.  What do you think about that?"

"The nerve!" replied Jill.  "That damn Mark."

"How do you know it was Mark?"

"Before he named us the Bosom Buddies, he called us the Misfit Misses.  Mark loves to insult us."

"Mark insults me too.  He calls me Mr. Misfit.  I guess we are the Misfit Trio.  We need a name for Mark.  Do you have one?"

Lucy and Jill answered in tandem.  "Of course we do.  We call him 'Unremarkable'. 

Lucy added, "On the rare occasions he is civil to us, we call him 'Smarky Marky'."

"How does Mark react to that?"

"Mark loves it.  He loves to be insulted.  But usually we just call him 'Asshole'.  He answers to that too."

"Good grief.  Okay, here's another question.  What do you call me behind my back?"

Lucy and Jill looked at each other, grinned, then answered in tandem.  "We call you 'Boy Toy'."

Unable to hide my blush, I replied, "You've got to be kidding!"

Jill answered, "No, we're serious.  You're still a baby plus you're pretty damn cute.  Besides, now that you've started to let your hair down a little, you're fun to tease because you tease back.  And you are pretty good at it too."

I nodded.  Ever since Fujimoto, it was hard to let down my guard with most people, but I felt I could trust these two ladies.  I silently blessed them both.  They were very good for my Rachel-ravaged ego. 

Lucy said, "Now it's my turn.  Since you opened the door, what's your story?  Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Guard your hearts, girls, but I'm straight."

They gasped and stared at me like I was from Outer Space.  "No way!" they screamed.

As I explained my situation, they were incredulous.  "You mean you're not gay?!?!  What about Mark?  Aren't you guys secretly a pair?"

I was taken aback by the strength of their reaction.  Gee whiz, the girls nearly had a seizure!  

"I promise you Mark and I are just friends.  I am not interested in men.  Besides, how can I think of Mark when I only have eyes for you?  I just come here to flirt with you girls, dance, and visualize undressing you."

Lucy spoke next.  "Oh, Rick, cut the bullshit.  No fooling now, tell us again that you and Mark are not an item.  Don't lie to us."

"I swear that Mark and I are just friends.  We have not had sex, nor do I intend to.  I am straight, you have my word."

Jill was too stunned to speak, so Lucy continued.  "Surely you're bisexual."

"Lucy, You're not listening.  I'm straight."

"You've never had sex with a man?"

"Yes, sort of.  I got picked up by a drag queen once."

Jill grinned.  "Really?  Did you like it?  Tell me everything."

"No.  Nor did we get very far.  The guy still had his pants on when I touched him down there.  That is when I realized I had made a serious mistake.  The strange thing is that I had been having trouble getting turned on even before the discovery."

Lucy and Juicy wanted more, so I filled in the details.  At the end I said, "My natural inclination is to be straight."

Both women shook their heads in amazement.  Lucy said, "Even if we decide to believe you, that makes you even weirder than we first thought.  What is a guy like you doing hanging out every Saturday at a gay dance party?  If it's not Mark, is there another man in the picture?"

"Lucy, you are not listening.  I will say it again.  I am straight."

Lucy gave me a look of disbelief.  "C'mon, Rick, knock it off.  Tell the truth and no fibbing allowed.  Look me in the eye and tell me you are not bisexual."

I leaned forward till our noses nearly touched.  "Lucy, I am straight.  Yes, I got picked up by a drag queen, but that was an accident.  We didn't take our clothes off and we didn't have sex.  I've had a lot of problems with women lately, so I am taking a siesta from women just like you are taking a siesta from men."

Now it was Jill's turn.  "Are you nuts?  Look at you.  You're a stud.  You're a jock with big shoulders.  You should be out chasing girls!  If I was 5 years younger and 50 pounds lighter, I'd be crawling over you like hungry ants on honey ham."  Jill paused for a moment, then exclaimed, "Seriously, Rick, what the hell are you doing here?"

"It's complicated."

It was Lucy's turn.  "Don't give us that shit.  You're going to tell us the whole story or we will sit on you till you cooperate.  Comply or die."

I spent the next twenty minutes or so covering my ups and downs.  I started with the roll call.  Vanessa, Debbie, Yolanda, Rachel.  Then I told them about the Epic Losing Streak and getting thrown out of graduate school.  I almost brought up Phobia but decided to skip it or we would be here all night.  Lucy and Jill shook their heads in wonderment.  So much for dancing.  Now that we had laid our cards on the table, the three of us continued talking till the party ended. 

As I rose to leave, Lucy told me to sit back down. "Rick, Jill and I have decided we are going to get you a woman.  It is plain to see that you need our help.  We will become your agents.  We know several women who have us on the lookout and you're a hot ticket.    You can expect to find a girl under your Christmas tree.  You do have a Christmas tree, don't you?"

I smiled, but said nothing. 

Jill agreed.  "Absolutely.  We are going to get you a woman.  I cannot imagine the finder's fee you will generate, two bottles of wine minimum.  And don't argue with us." 

I laughed.  "Thanks for the kind offer, ladies, but no thanks.  It would do my self-esteem a lot more good if I could find my own girlfriend."

Lucy replied, "Okay, in that case, next week we will begin coaching you.  With our help, your Misfit days will soon be over!"

Jill chimed in.  "I know everything there is about how to get a woman excited.  I intend to show you how it's done and let you practice on me!" 

As always, the ladies cracked me up.  Starting with Mark and now Lucy and Jill, I had actually begun to laugh again.  Too bad I had refused Lucy's offer to put a pretty girl under my Christmas tree.  Maybe I should reconsider.  I was so desperately lonely I was very grateful to have found Casa Mark.  I was friends with everyone in Mark's group, be they gay, lesbian, fruit fly, bisexual, transsexual, not at all sexual, whatever.  I didn't really belong here, but these people were nice to me and I appreciated them.  That was all that mattered.

MR. MISFIT 

Now that I was a Casa Mark regular, every Monday I would walk into Mark's office to share gossip from his latest party.  On the Monday after revealing my secret to Jill and Lucy, Mark went off on some harangue about how one Fruit Fly said this and some Fag Hag said that.  I flinched when Mark referred to Jill and Lucy as my personal Fag Hags.  My loyalty prevented me from thinking about them in these terms.  Yes, Lucy and Juicy were self-described misfits who enjoyed hanging around the gay scene, but they were also super-kind women with a heart of gold.  There wasn't a hurtful bone in either woman's body. 

"Mark, do me a favor.  Will you call Lucy and Jill by their name?  They're my friends."

Mark nodded.  "Sure, I get it.  By the way, I saw you guys talking up a storm Saturday night.  What was that all about?"

"Lucy and Jill almost had a heart attack when I told them I was straight."

Mark paused a moment, then gave me his best leer.  "Rick, it is time you learned the truth.  You must be the most-deceived blind fool to ever walk the earth.  Are you ready to admit you are bisexual? 

"Knock it off.  No, Mark, I am not bisexual, I am straight.  We've been through this before." 

"Rick, it is a well-known fact that everyone is bisexual.  Sigmund Freud stated that all humans are bisexual.  He was convinced everyone is sexually attracted to both sexes.  A woman once asked Freud to cure her son's homosexuality.  Freud turned her down.  He said, "Many highly respectable individuals of ancient and modern times have been homosexuals, several of the world's greatest men among them.  It is a great injustice to persecute homosexuality as a crime."

Mark paused for effect.  "What do you say to that?"

I smiled.  "Freud was definitely right about a lot of famous people being bisexual or homosexual.  However, I also recall Charles Darwin pointed out that survival of the species favors sex between a man and a woman.  I'm sorry to break your heart, but I'm with Darwin on this one."

"But, Rick, if you are bisexual, you can reproduce and have fun at the same time.  Have your cake and eat it too.  I suggest you kiss me now and discover your true self."

I rolled my eyes when Mark opened his arms.  "Knock it off.  My true self would much prefer to be naked in bed with Elena, my gorgeous office secretary." 

Mark grinned lasciviously.  "I don't believe you.  The time has come for a test.  Just one kiss.  One taste of my sugar lips and you will be persuaded otherwise.  Try it, you'll like it." 

Mark puckered his lips and and wiggled his finger to beckon me to move closer.

I shook my head to discourage him.  "Mark, you are not helping.  I admit I am lost and confused and now you're using my confusion to get laid."

Mark gave me a feigned look of guilt.  "What was your first clue?"

I knew Mark was only half-kidding.  He was pleased I had given him an opening to make a pass.  It was his long-standing claim that I was secretly gay but hadn't realized it yet.  No, I was not gay.  Nor was I bisexual, at least not to my knowledge.  But I did enjoy hanging around with his group, so his razzing bothered me.  Jill's words rang in my head.  "Man, what the hell are you doing here?"  

I didn't tell Mark about my concerns.  Instead I went back to my office to mull it over.  The more I thought about it, I didn't really belong.  I was a misfit just like Lucy and Jill.  I had no business devoting every Saturday night to gay dance parties.  Like Jill said, I should be out there chasing girls.  But then I felt my shoulders sag with the realization that I wasn't ready yet.  It was scary to admit that ever since my ill-fated week with Rachel, I had absolutely no desire to be chasing women.  Rachel had hurt me badly.  Her stunt with Aaron had turned me inside out.  Like Jill and Lucy, I was taking a siesta.  Except that I had a different term for it... Phobia.  I was dancing in the Gay World as a way to hide from my fears about women.  I was convinced the next Rachel would find me wanting just like the previous Rachel had.  All it took was one word to reduce me to mush... 'Career'. 

At one time, I feared a woman would laugh at my dancing.  Now that I had improved, that fear was no longer my biggest problem.  I had a new catastrophic fantasy.  Let's say I worked up the nerve to ask a girl to dance.  She said yes and smiled appreciatively as we danced.  Encouraged, I would offer to buy her a drink and we would sit down for a chat.  "So, Rick, tell me what you do for a living..." 

I shook my head in despair.  I could not believe how stupid I had been to spend the past five months worrying about Step-Ball-Change when I should have been pursuing my next career.  Oh well, sometime next year I would tackle this problem.  But for now, Casa Mark was the perfect stop-gap strategy.  It sure beat spending Saturday nights alone in my apartment.  Besides, I enjoyed working on my dancing.  Right now the most important thing in the world was learning to dance.  I was unbelievably grateful to Mark.  His Casa Mark dance parties were the perfect venue for my odd self-improvement project.  I liked having a place to practice my dancing without fear of rejection.  Furthermore, I was making great progress.  Now that I had made friends with Jill and Lucy, each week I could not wait to show them my latest move and have them giggle over it.  I might be a Stranger in a Strange Land, but I was a lot happier dancing here than I would be shooting pool or bouncing around in front of a mirror on a Saturday night.  Now that I wasn't quite so lonely, learning to dance was fun again.   As long as it was fun, what was the harm?  Chasing girls could wait while I learned to dance.  Mark's dance parties were exactly the tonic I needed.  I was enjoying my siesta.

MYSTERY MARIAH

Having attended Casa Mark for five straight weeks, people were curious about me.  My continued presence raised eyebrows.   Lucy and Jill explained that gossip and speculation followed me everywhere.  Someone had leaked the information that I considered myself straight.  Lucy and Jill swore it wasn't them, so obviously Mark had decided to open his big mouth.  That probably explained why everyone was staring at me like I was from the Land beyond Beyond, from the Land past hope and fear.  The two ladies informed me there were wide-spread suspicions that I was secretly gay.  One rumor suggested I had already crossed the line, but was too afraid to admit it.  Another rumor suggested I was going to cross the line soon.  Lucy and Jill added the men they spoke with were convinced I had to be delusional if I thought I was straight. 

"Don't you dare tell them about the drag queen incident!!  If you do, I will never hear the end of it!"

Lucy answered first, "If you promise to molest me later tonight, I might keep it a secret."

Juicy chimed in.  "That's includes me.  That is why God gave you two hands."

I groaned.  This naughty dialogue reminded me of the Gay Siberia swimming pool crowd.  Thank goodness I had not told the girls about swimming naked.  

"Give me a break, girls.  How many times do I have to tell you I am not gay?  The only people who arouse me are you two.  I have an idea.  So you asked me to molest you.  Fine, that sounds like a good offer to me.  Juicy, how about I caress one of your ample breasts for 20 seconds?  If I molest you and get an erection, will that help get the point across?" 

I expected a nasty retort, but what I got instead was a conflicted expression on their faces.  That is when I realized Lucy and Jill were convinced the gay men in our group were right about me.  I was incredulous.  "Okay, you two, whose side are you are on?"

Lucy replied, "There are people in the group who are taking bets to see who will get you into bed first."

Shades of Gay Siberia, here we go again.  I made a quick note not to tell them about 'The Prize' either.

"I hope you girls had the sense to bet on yourselves.  If you promise to share the profits with me, we can settle this right now.  Let's go over and find a bedroom.  Who wants to go first?"

They did not reply.  They just grinned at each other and giggled.  They enjoyed seeing me get flustered.  Irritated, I continued.  "Okay, girls, confess.  Where did you put your money?"

Jill replied, "We think Mark is the favorite."

"Why is that?"

Juicy said, "All the money is on Mark because everyone knows how much you like him."

I scoffed.  "Don't be ridiculous.  Mark is my friend.  That is correct.  However I feel no desire for him.  Mark does not inhabit my dreams."

Juicy looked at Lucy and Lucy looked at Juicy.  When they both smiled at each other knowingly, I was even more irritated.  "Sorry, girls, but you're backing the wrong horse.  The only one who stands a chance would be you gals.  I am true blue only to you."

Lucy said, "Oh, Boy Toy, you are so silly.  You don't have to hide the truth from us.  We both think you are a 'Marked' Man." 

I frowned.  "Ha ha.  Very funny."

Lucy continued, "Rick, you should see the way Mark looks at you when you dance.  I have never seen anyone so horny in all my life.  Mark wants you even more than we do!"

I rolled my eyes.  These girls could speculate all they wanted, but I knew something they didn't.  Van Morrison had a song I liked, 'G-l-o-r-i-a'.  Gloria had no trouble arousing me.  Mark on the other hand did not interest me.  But it was true my world was painted with the colors of the Gay Rainbow.  I had been picked up by a drag queen one week after moving back to the Montrose area.  I had been propositioned at my first dance class.  My apartment complex was teeming with gay men who made passes.  A quarter of the people at my social work job were gay.  My best friend was gay.  I hung out with Mark's gay friends every Saturday night.  The only straight part of my world were the volleyball players at the JCC and my married co-workers.  There was no point in denying it, I was immersed in the gay lifestyle.  I could certainly see why Juicy and Lucy would be skeptical about my sexuality.  So I asked myself again if there was any truth to their claim that I was self-deceived. 

The answer was no.  My time with Gloria and Rachel made it clear my true nature was straight.  Whenever I undressed someone with my eyes, it was a woman.  Whenever I got turned on involuntarily, it came from being close to an attractive woman.  Whenever I desired sex, I knocked on Gloria's door.  As for being secretly gay, you would think I would receive at least a flicker of desire.  Not so.  I sat in Mark's office every day without the slightest stirring in my loins.  Mark could discuss Freudian theories of latent homosexuality till he was blue in the face, but fantasies of sex with men never crossed my mind.  When I dreamed of sex, I dreamed of women. 

However, try as I might, Lucy and Juicy remained unconvinced.  Lucy said, "Rick, you must be bisexual.  Why else would you hang around here?"

I disagreed.  "How many times do I have to tell you girls I come here to dance?  I also come here to see you two.  I am around gay men every Saturday night and not once have I ever been turned on by a guy.  So what do you say to that?"

Lucy looked at Jill, then they both looked at me.  "Tell that to Mark.  He is so convinced you are gay, he brags to everyone it's just a matter of time."

"You girls are barking up the wrong tree.  So is Mark.  Look, I'm tired of talking about this.  Let's go dance."

To me, my lack of interest in men was apparent.  I didn't want to dance with men, much less have sex with them.  Hence I dismissed the 'secretly gay' theory out of hand.  That said, Lucy and Jill had a right to be suspicious.  They knew damn well I wasn't telling them the whole story.  Riddled with shame over my facial scars and lack of career, I did not dare share the whole truth of why I was hiding from women.  Nor did I care to explain my Phobia.  I doubted that Jill and Lucy would take my Phobia explanation seriously, so it was easier just to keep it to myself.  I did not want to tell the women how my fear of being rejected by a pretty girl was holding me back.  Nor did I want to have them tease me about how silly I was being.  Seriously, these two women weren't any braver than I was.  They were so afraid of rejection they made themselves fat just so they would have an excuse to avoid men.  It was our fear that made us Misfits.

I suppose the Bosom Buddies would have gotten off my case if I had confessed my other secret.  There was someone in Mark's group I was seriously attracted to.  Take a wild guess.  Knowing Jill and Lucy were Mariah's friends, I did not dare tell them I wanted her in the worst way.  With their big mouths, there was a real chance they would go blabbing to Mariah.

The memory of seeing Mariah naked at the beach haunted me whenever I saw her at Mark's parties.  Mariah was the only person in the room who awakened my desire.  In person, Mariah was a cold fish, but she came alive on the dance floor.  That was her domain.  Whenever Mariah started to dance, the Ice Queen transformed into a sultry vixen.  I could not take my eyes off Mariah when she started to dance.  The moment the woman began to move her body, I wanted her so badly it was embarrassing.  With her sinuous motion, Mariah reminded me of 'Salome', the Biblical icon of female seductiveness.  I didn't dare ask Mariah to dance with me.  Watching her move, I could not imagine how I would ever keep my hands off those inviting hips if she came too close.  It wasn't Mark I wanted, I wanted his wife!! 

My loyalty to Mark was the major reason I did not dare act on my forbidden desire.  The other reason is that Mariah had yet to signal interest.  Not once had we shared a word past 'hello'.  One night I was very tempted to say something nice to Mariah about her Christmas decorations.  I also wanted to compliment her on her dancing and test her reaction.  But I always held back at the last moment.  I figured if Mariah was interested, she knew how to smile in my direction.  Or she could ask me to dance. 

Always afraid of making the first move, I decided the smart thing was to keep my distance.  Look, but don't touch.  Convinced she was a femme fatale who would lead me straight to trouble, I settled for admiring Mystery Mariah from afar.  This had all the makings of slapstick comedy.  Mark wanted me, I wanted his wife.  But who did Mariah want? 

As for Mark, he was out of luck.  I felt no steam, no sizzle.  However, Lucy was right about one thing.  I was definitely a Marked Man.  Now that Lucy had pointed it out, I noticed Mark could not take his eyes off me when I danced.  Good grief, he watched me the same way I watched his sensual wife.  I had a feeling this was going to come to a head and I was correct.  Shortly before Christmas, Mark decided to take his best shot.  One morning when I was in his office, Mark invited me to come over to his house that night and sleep with him.

"With our clothes on, of course," Mark said.  "No hanky panky, I promise!"

Mark was out of luck.  "Oh, sure, Mark, like I'm going to believe that."

"I mean it, let's have a Sleepover.  You are my friend.  We have so much in common.  Why confine ourselves to this office?  Come have dinner and stay the night.  We can share a bed and share our deepest secrets.  Don't worry, it would be very innocent.  We would keep our clothes on and just cuddle.  Nothing else, promise!  Wouldn't that be fun?"

Darn it, I could have done without this.  I had hoped Lucy was pulling my leg, but she was right all along.  "I'm sorry, Mark, but I don't think that's a very good idea."

This might be a good time to ask Mark for permission to pursue his wife. 

"Uh, gee, Mark, why waste a fine woman like Mariah on a man who is gay?  We can have dinner, but afterwards would you mind if I went to Mariah's room instead?  She and I would just cuddle, I promise."

I laughed out loud at the fantasy.  Seeing my strange reaction, Mark frowned.  "What's so funny, Rick?"

Uh oh, I had hurt Mark's feelings by indulging my dark fantasy a bit too much.  I felt a tinge of regret at not handling this better.  It must have taken considerable courage to proposition me knowing full well I had never given him the slightest bit of encouragement. 

Trying to cover my tracks, I replied, "C'mon, Mark, a Sleepover?  Can't you come up with something more original than cuddling?  You gay guys don't use any better pick-up lines than straight guys use on women.  Besides, I have my teddy bear to cuddle with.  My teddy bear would be jealous." 

Mark replied, "Bring your teddy bear along.  We can have a three-way."

"Mark, my Teddy Bear is a virgin!  I don't dare let you corrupt him!" 

I laughed at my own joke and even Mark grinned a little.  Now I felt guilty.  I needed to soften the blow. 

"Mark, you never give up.  Are you going to let Teddy Bear kiss your sugar lips?  What will I do if my Teddy Bear turns out to be gay thanks to you?  That damn bear will never stop pestering me after he meets you."

Mark laughed and then we both laughed.  The laughter broke the tension.  Thank goodness.  I am pleased to say the subject never came up again.  Now that Mark had struck out, I guess he spread the word.  No one in his Circle ever said a word.  It was a taboo subject from this point on.  For the record, the only person I touched during this time was Gloria.  I never had sex with anyone in Mark's group be they male or female.  No smooching, no fondling, no cuddling.  I did hug Jill and Lucy a few times and held their hands occasionally, but that was the extent of it.  I know everyone thought I was weird, but I didn't care.  I was there to dance, just dance.  Some day, God knows when, I was going to put this dancing to good use.  I was sure of it.  In the meantime, I continued going to Casa Mark even though I was part of the Misfit Club.  However, there was a distinction.  Jill and Lucy would prefer not to admit it, but they were permanent members.  I preferred to think of myself as a 'Visitor'.  The day would come when I would have to leave, but for now I was going to stay.