ABSTRACT
Stephen took another bite of his Quarter Pounder (with cheese), and let images from the McDonald’s commercials gambol through his mind: boy meeting girl, grandparents spoiling grandkids, the nuclear family eating nuclear food, images all shiny-bright and squeaky with normality. Stephen was happy, lapped in the warm waters of irony. My God, he thought, it’s wonderful how easy it is to be subversive when you’re gay. Just do something that all the normal people do—like eat at McDonald’s, or make love—but do it with a man. You feel like you’re undermining society.
