It not only didn't exist, it could not be conceived of.
It wasn't just a certainty that no boy on Earth had ever longed for the touch of another boy, not once in the history of the world.
We were unable to even think of the question.
Boys who obviously longed for boys?
They were looking for a buddy or a role model.
They were shy, or immature, or hadn't found the right girl yet.
Their interest in art and ballet, their inability to catch a ball, obviously represented deficient masculinity, but they desired girls as heartily as every other boy.
The question could not be asked, or thought of, or conceived of as a possibility.
It was easier to conceive of hobbits.
But there were hints, mysteries to mull over, to contemplate like zen koans, to puzzle out like cryptograms.
Men on tv or in movies who cared for each other, fought for each other, and walked side by side into the future.
Men who hugged.
Who smiled at me, or touched me on the shoulder.
The sight of a muscular frame that filled me with inexplicable joy.
Small subtle signs.
Through the looking glass.
Take the red pill.
With a bit of a mind flip, you're into the time slip, and nothing can ever be the same.
Sometime in junior high, I read an one-page story in an Archie comic book. Big Ethel's friends criticize her for being indiscriminate, accuse her of accepting dates with anyone, anytime, anywhere.
On the contrary, Ethel says, she has very exacting standards.
1. Her date must be a boy.
2. He must be breathing.
3. He must be a slow runner (so she can catch him as he's running away in terror).
Slowly it dawned on me: Ethel has a rule about dating only boys.
Such a rule is necessary only if there are other groups of people whom she could date.
Does she only date teenage boys, and not adult men?
Or only date boys, and not girls?
Could a girl date a girl?
Could a boy date a boy?
It's not raining upstairs.