I have vivid memories of buying this issue. It took a lot of courage, but I really wanted it.

Playgirl was MUCH more interesting, but GQ seemed more acceptable to have and read (obviously!)

It was the first in my huge collection of magazines. Ive managed to cut WAY back, especially since i moved a few years back, and just couldnt bring myself to move hundreds of magazines with me.

Anyway, I LOVE the ads (and pictures). Always have. I remember reading this in my bedroom, listening to U2 records (WAR). It was put away in my largest desk drawer, under a bunch of stuff. Not really hidden, but not out in the open.

For some reason my mother threw it away, I think while I was away at school. I remember seeing it in the trash, and not having the courage or inclination to take it back. It was easy to feel shame. Obviously wanting this magazine at my age made me different. It was a clear signal that I didnt have privacy (in my desk) and that somehow she was on to me.

Thinking back about it makes me feel weird. Throwing it away seems so hostile. Violent almost. And why did I just accept it?

All those feelings can so easily come up again - especially when I think about my artwork - things I want to draw and photograph. Obviously I have gay interests. But Im still shielding that to a certain degree. I don't want to put people off.

Sometimes that just sucks.