|
|
 |
 |
|
| Stephen Fry, actor and novelist |
The Homosexual Impediment |
|
|
Kathleen was in many of the same lecture sets as I, and she had the advantage of having her parents' house just across the road from college . . . For my sixteenth birthday she gave me a beautiful green and gold 1945 edition of Oscar Wilde's Intentions, which I have to this day, and a damned good fuck, the memory of which is also with me still.
We were up in her room, listening to Don Maclean's American Pie, as one did in those days, marveling at the poetry of "Vincent" and how it spoke us, when she remarked that it was odd that we had never screwed. I had told her early on that I was probably homosexual, but she did not see this as any kind of impediment at all.
It was a perfectly satisfactory experience. It was not as I had imagined from that horribly misogynist scene in Ken Russell's The Music Lovers, which seemed to suggest that because Tchaikovsky was attracted to men, he must also have vomited at the touch of women. I could not, afterwards, deny that the design features of the vagina, so far as texture and enclosing elasticity were concerned, seemed absolutely made for the job — ideally suited, in fact. We remained friends and tried it again once or twice, in a field and in a car. My heart was never in it, but my loins were very grateful indeed for the outing and the exercise. (Norfolk, England, 1975)
from Moab Is My Washpot: An Autobiography by Stephen Fry (Hutchinson, © 1997)
© 2000 Nerve.com, Inc.
|
|
|
|
|
