By the time he was 21, Elvis knew that he saw men differently. If he glanced sideways in the locker room before ball hockey practice, he might think, wow, he’s cute. Above any others, though, was his best friend. But Elvis said nothing out loud. He only allowed himself careful looks, like in the rearview mirror while driving a car full of friends, at the handsome face he had known for years. Why was this happening now? Could a person have his attractions so suddenly flipped? Or was being gay a trait by birth, like the shape of a nose?
Rabbi Erwin Schild