Robert Martin A few months before my breakdown I sat down across from Alex in the library. Senior year. I was skipping gym; she was in a study period, studying. “Hey Dyke,” I said. “How’s being gay so far?” It’s important to understand that Alex and I were friends. Or if not friends, friendly. Still, looking back, it’s amazing I never realized what an asshole I was. She set down her pencil and glared at me. “I’m studying, Dick,” which, touché, my name’s Richard. “I don’t like it when you call me that.” “Call you what? Dyke?” She nodded….