In retrospect, I should've known all along that I was a poof. All the signs seemed to be neon and flashing: I was always best friends with the chicks of whatever new school my parents had plonked me in. I was never the sporty type, possessing the hand-eye coordination of your average shellfish. And ooh, ooh, I also had a lack of decent father figures! Doesn't that make for your typical gay teen requirements?