I have been considering homosexuality as a lifestyle. Not one of the dyed-haired freaks, but a really fit sort of yuppie homosexual, watching my diet carefully, a well-rounded regimen of yoga, pilates, and unprotected anal sex in the steam-room at the all-male gym in center city. I could start brining my laptop to coffee shops and writing there, so everyone knows I am writing, and sipping oat-milk lattes. Maybe I'd get an adorably small dog, and have a hair-stylist boyfriend named Ricardo, who would compliment me on the rock-hard abs I got from doing pilates. All these things are achievable.