All the early signs of incipient homosexuality people offered in the comments to the last post–and, incidentally, all the early signs of incipient homosexuality I might offer–are as nothing compared to those exhibited by my friend K.N.
I offer two stories.
1. In kindergarten one day, K.N. stood up all of a sudden and burst into screaming, bawling tears because he realized that his underwear didn’t match his socks. Ordinarily, if he was wearing green underwear, he made sure to put on green socks; red with red; and so on. But he’d gotten distracted that morning and accidentally put on socks of a different color from his underwear.
All efforts to assure him this was not actually a problem were vain; he didn’t stop crying until his teacher called his mother to come and get him. She took him home, waited while he changed, and drove him back to school.
2. In junior high, K.N. was in class with a boy he thought was a bad dresser. K.N. would buy boxes of No. 2 pencils, sharpen them to razor-sharp points, lie in wait for this kid on his way home, jump out from behind the bushes, and stab the kid in the back with a pencil as hard as he could.
Then he would hiss things like, “Next time, tuck your shirt in.”
I am a very good homosexual.
But I bow in the presence of true genius.