This proves what I've always suspected: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife—and a husband.
First: to Daniel Allen Cox, Myrlin A. Hermes, Georgeann Packard and Malena Watrous (ooh, love the sound of that name!)—this belongs to you as much as to me. It was an honor to be named a finalist along with you.
Thank you: to the Lambda Literary Foundation; to HarperCollins and especially my fabulous editor, Rakesh Satyal, who always thought my writing was sexy and, more important, funny; and to Jane Austen, who wrote the best bisexual story ever. All I did was make it, shall we say, explicit.
On behalf of my fellow finalists, and all bisexual people, I want to say to the rest of the LGBTQ community: We're here, we're queer too—get used to it!!!
That's what I actually wrote down and printed out and folded up and put in my evening bag and took with me to the Lambda award ceremony last night, thus multi-jinxing my chances of winning to the point of absurdity.
The book that won, "The Lunatic, the Lover and the Poet," by Myrlin A. Hermes, is one of the best books I've ever read--and as some of you know, I blurbed it. I can honestly say I feel it "deserved" to win--but of course so did the other excellent finalists.
My only regret in Ms. Hermes' win was that she wasn't there to accept the award in person. During the course of this long ceremony, the letters LGBTQ were often spelled out dutifully but the word "bisexual" was never uttered except when unavoidable, in presenting the two awards, for Bisexual Fiction and Bisexual Nonfiction. There was even a mention of fat acceptance, body-image issues, and disability rights, all worthy concepts and honorees. I salute them.
But, oh, what a revelatory moment if someone like me had come up on stage and shouted out the word that, apparently, still dares not speak its name.