Hello, readers of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. My name is Justin. When Gwen asked me to write a piece for her, I thought about saying no, because I knew it would be hard, and likely uncomfortable, and I am not super-confident in my writing anyway. But she said just to write from the heart, maybe it would be cathartic, and that my voice is important; I have a story that needs to be told. So here I am. I have never been good at telling anyone no, especially not my best friend.

I met Gwen in the third grade. She sat in front of me with blonde dog ears that were clasped by those hair things with big plastic marbles. I remember her hair was parted in a painfully straight line right down the middle. Her dog ears were down to her shoulders. It was irresistible not to pull them. We got paddled that year for trying to fill up a water balloon in the class sink.

We were both teachers' kids, which bonded us, that and the fact we both had--and have--the personality traits of wanting to please everyone and rage against the machine at the same time, which, as you might imagine, is tricky. We were both popular, if the yearbooks can be believed. But we both felt like outliers too. Except with each other. Gwen's outsider status came from being creative and spiritual. Mine came from being spiritual too--and gay.

I couldn't say gay (in relation to myself) out loud until I was in graduate school. Even then, it was a........

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