"Well, Beth, I'm waiting," I said, as I tapped my foot, (and boywas I.) "Please, don't do this, at least take me to a different room." "Get out of the... duds, Missy Pot-Smoker," her mother hissed, andI laughed inside, thanking her for her help. Behind a stream of tears, false or for her mom's benefit, Beth's clothesslowly came off. She kicked her shoes off and then wrestled with her tightjeans, finally handing them to me. I place them on the table behind me, rightnext to her mom's things. Beth. I worried that I would never find my place. I read alot, though, because that was a form of escapism. And Fictionamaniasimply saved my life. I read for days, learned English and got the warmfeeling of not being alone in the struggle.It was out of desperation that I discovered that my effeminate soulcould offer some practical gifts. For many years I tried to reject andsuppress everything that seemed unmanly, including my feelings. Iwanted to cry, often, like a girl. Or giggle happily, as girls. More

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