It was 4 p.m. of the first day of Spring Fest of my final semester at college, and Tom and I were wasted. Our arms and legs were strewn across a ratty futon. Our eyes flickered on and off. Our friends’ bodies littered the room, crumpled up in different corners, either asleep or in a bloated daze. I curled my body to rest my head on his shoulder and whispered, “I’m going to the bathroom. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.”
* * *
At the beginning of the semester, I had signed up for a Queer Theory course (pass/fail) w...
Isaac Abel is the pen name of a Brooklyn-based journalist who writes about issues of sexuality and gender. He loves getting responses to his columns and suggestions for stories. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.