It wouldn't have mattered to my mother if I married a black, was gay, lived in a commune or wore a dress.
I'm really not an avowed heterosexual. I'm no more proud of it than of being white or tall.
No man wants to feel that he's there because of his woman's biological clock or because he's filling a job opening for husband or significant other.
My father, who was from a wealthy family and highly educated, a lawyer, Yale and Columbia, walked out with the benefit of a healthy push from my mother, a seventh grade graduate, who took a typing course and got a secretarial job as fast as she could.
I didn't grow up with any concept of people being deviants unless they mistreated others.
I try not to deal with people's hostility, though I must if they have something I need from them, as the professors did at Columbia or my landlord did.
