I was abit jealous. I didn't want to be gay. But one thing was certain.If I had been gay, I wouldn't have spent weekend nights inpick-up bars squander...ng my meager pay on drinks forcock-teasing girls.I didn't mind living with a gay man. Tommy was my age. We hadgrown up together. This was the first time on our own aftercollege for both of us. We had a large two-bedroom apartment andwhat went on behind closed doors was no problem. Tommy's friendswere cool and quit hitting on me when they were. After all, he had patiently explained time after time, REAL fishermen tied their own flies. REAL fisherman knew what the fish really wanted better than any mass-production factory.She hated fish.However, as much as she hated fish, she loved her husband. She'd entertained passing thoughts of illicit summer affairs and hot, passionate sexual encounters while her husband blissfully floated his raft down the Russian River. She'd dreamed of chasing her own form of "spawning red." She sighed. It. More

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