It seemed so effortless for them, so comfortable. Around me, straight couples were walking by, fingers interlocked. Almost immediately I felt angry at myself for being unable to last longer. My palms were sweating, and after a few minutes I let go.
My first time holding a man’s hand was at a theme park, and I could hardly breathe. Other gay men spot it easily because we have all been there.
This may be the first time they have ever held hands in public, and they are determined to do it, goddamn it - but they’re scared. Whenever I see one of these “joyless couples,” I feel like crying or cheering or screaming or some variation of the three. “Look at the joyless couple,” a friend and fellow homo said, nodding at one such couple the last time I was at Disney World.
They almost seem like militants, cutting through the crowd, matching stride, never cracking a smile. You’ve probably seen it: two gay men holding hands at a theme park, walking briskly, with rigid arms and cold expressions.
