It is time for me to come out. My name is Tony, and I am a lesbian.

This has been my last week as a free man before starting my new job next week, and I chose to fill my time by watching a marathon of L Word, Season 5. Man, I love that show. If you had never seen it you would probably think it was about the Butches and Femmes having barbecues and drinking beer and talking shop, but it is actually about a group of Super Femme tall model-looking lovelies having tons of sex and drama. The writing is fabulous. This morning, as I watched the affair between Bette and Tina explode and Bette's girlfriend Jodi ran off crying to her tent (they were camping), I started sobbing on the couch. That was when I realized that, by gosh, I had officially lost my balls and was the proud new owner of a big shiny vagina.

After my little crying session I started thinking about the similarities between me and my lesbian sisters (not really my sister, she's definitely a fan of the penis... runs in the family...). Here are some of the things I came up with:

• short hair
• overanalyzing relationships
• staying in touch with ex's
• lots of crying
• lots of sex
• I'm a big girl

Then, I had an experience with a guy today that made me realize how I am most like a lesbian. There are times in my life when I don't really feel like sleeping with men unless there is at least the potential of dating them. Of course, there are slutty any-man-will-do times as well, but right now I'm experiencing the former, and that is very lesbionic.

In the last few weeks there has been a burning hot guy staring me down at Gold's Gym in the Castro. We ran into each other in the shower one day, and he made a point of making himself very viewable for me. Oh, he was hot. We have smiled at each other every day since then, until this Wednesday we happened to meet on the corner of Castro and Market and we introduced ourselves. It was a quick conversation, and then we went our separate ways. Later that afternoon at the gym, he came up to me and said, "I can't stop undressing you with my eyes." I said, "I already saw you naked so you're already undressed to me." He said, "I have to say... I'm in a great open relationship, but if you would ever like to Get Together, I'd love to hang out." I said, "It fucking figures you would have a boyfriend. How about coffee instead?"

So we met for coffee this morning. I was very smart to have picked a public place to meet, because from our hug hello it was clear that the sexual tension between us was palpable. We sat for a while and then went for a walk, first to Duboce Park and then to Dolores Park. At Dolores Park we laid on the grass, and an arm graze turned into an arm rub which turned into a belly rub. Before long his penis was hard enough to be poking out of the top of his pants.

Most men I know would at this point have given up their stupid morality around sleeping with guys in relationships. He was allowed to sleep around for heavens sake, and his boyfriend even knew he was out with me. In fact, even the younger me from five years ago in San Francisco would have found a way to get that man naked immediately, but instead, I said, "You're killing me. Put that thing away. Let's go get lunch." And so we did.

Now on the bright side, I have been having fantastic sex with another guy that I have been dating for a month, so it is possible that this helps explain my ability to let it go. But really, I chose to not have sex with a hot hot man today, and that makes me wonder, "Where o where have my little balls gone? Where, o where could they be?"

But I don't mind. The lesbionic path seems to make more sense for me these days. I guess I'm just going to have to come out as a lesbian though, trapped in the body of a man who likes men. Fuck, that's queer.