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"We're all made differently, Woody."
"Yeah, but you'd have to be some kind of pansy."
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I'm some kind of pansy."
"You're such a kidder."
"I'm not kidding, Woody. I'm dead serious."
"You're queer?"
"That's exactly what I am. I didn't choose to be. When we were kids, and we started jerking off, you used to think about bouncy tits and hairy cunts. I never told you that I used to think about big stiff cocks."
"Chuck, this is disgusting!"
"No, it's not. It's the way some guys are made. More guys than you think--especially in the navy."
"There are pansies in the navy?"
Chuck nodded vigorously. "A lot."
"Well . . . how do you know?"
"We usually recognize one another. Like Jews always know who's Jewish. For example, the waiter in the Chinese restaurant."
"He was one?"
"Didn't you hear him say he liked my jacket?"
"Yes, but I didn't think anything of it."
"There you are."
"He was attracted to you?"
"I guess."
"Why?"
"Same reason Diana liked me, probably. Hell, I'm better-looking than you."
"This is weird."
"Come on, let's go home."
They continued on their way. Woody was still reeling. "You mean there are Chinese pansies?"
Chuck laughed. "Of course!"
"I don't know, you never think of Chinese guys being that way."
"Remember, not a word to anyone, especially the parents. God knows what Papa would say."
After a while, Woody put his arm around Chuck's shoulders. "Well, what the hell," he said. "At least you're not a Republican."
