I can only imagine the awkward conversation that took place between my diddy and my mammer... "Evelyn, I think there's going to be a problem with Charles." Dad had taken my brother and me to Shopper's Fair on a Saturday to buy 45s—those are records, for you young cool cats—and I was obsessed with buying a puzzle... of David Cassidy.
I could sense, even at 10, that something was off-kilter. Little boys were not typically gaga for David. Mind you, I loved The Partridge Family from day one, had every album, knew the lyrics to every song by heart—but there was something a little curious—to me—about my "crush" on Keith Partridge... studying the pictures on his solo album "Cherish" with great intensity, looking at his groovy clothes and hair, imagining what it would be like to talk to him.
Yes, I can assure you, gays are born this way. Not influenced by weak daddies and overtly strong mommies. Not coerced. There's no click of a switch that happens based on some life-changing event.
I remember my nephew's 4th birthday party. He asked the clown to make him a balloon "purse." The family—my mama, his mama, my brother—all glanced at one another with clear unspoken understanding: Here comes another one in the Taylor lineage. In a new generation, he came out of the closet when he was 15, god bless him. I was 22. It was the right time for me.
Twenty-five years later, I still think David Cassidy is pretty groovy.