Larry Benjamin: This Writer's Life

Stanley’s company holiday party was Saturday night. So we slipped on blazers and bowties and went. It can be awkward going to a party where you don’t really know anyone, and Stanley is not often at ease in social settings but we went anyway. It was a chance to get out of the house on a Saturday night and he seems to like this job. We actually had fun. For me it was great to see Stanley relax and enjoy himself. He and his favorite coworker, Loretta, played pool. 18 years together and I had no idea he could “shoot pool.” While he and Loretta played, I mostly stood off to the side, armed with Gin & tonic, and watched the people, which is what I tend to do. I’m a writer, but mostly I’m an observer. There was the woman in the red suede wedgies and too short white skirt (White! In January!) and the short, beefy guy who did one armed pushups with the owner of the company sitting on his back.
A few weeks ago, I started work on my next book. The other night I got up at 3 a.m. and wrote a pi…

The other day, I read a blog post in Huff Post Gay Voices, from the I’m from Driftwood series, “'You're Really Nice, but I Don't Date Black Guys': Racism or Preference?” I’ve been thinking about the article and its supporting video ever since.

In it a black guy named Nelson Moses Lassiter, talks about racism in the LGBT community that takes the form of rejection from white guys who don’t date black guys. (You can read the article here.) Sophomore year in college I had a crush on Scott, a cute white boy who was struggling with his gayness. At some point the summer before junior year he ended up sharing my dorm room. Inevitably, perhaps because we were roommates, or maybe it was my awkward attempt to seduce him—I honestly don’t remember—he saw me naked. A few days later he confessed he’d dreamed of me right after. The dream was fairly explicit. As I stared at him, he’d quickly added, “But I could never sleep with a black guy—that on top of being gay would be too much…