a mistake. In receipting for a registered letter addressed "Earl Lind, General Delivery," I signed my legal name. To the clerk's inquiry I replied that I had been authorized by Lind. He sent word to Lind for written authorization, which was promptly despatched.
I have had to acquire two entirely distinct handwritings—the second for my numerous love letters.[1] None were ever written more mushy than those of "Jennie June" and I guarded against their ever being traceable to the intellectual and puritan "Ralph Werther" (by which name I refer to my every-day self in my books) . I have often, within an hour, written letters in the two different hands.
Confidants: Throughout the three decades of my double life, I have, outside several physicians, disclosed it only to nine confidants of my every-day circle. One expressed his amazement that I should disclose it at all, affirming that even my best friend would be likely to get me thrown out of my economic and social position. All my lay confidants, however, proved helpful and compassionate excepting one, who, while never disclosing my secret, dropped me from his friendship, although we had been the very closest of Platonic friends. One physician brought about my expulsion from the university and made me a Bowery outcast and fairie.
Because of the terrible persecutions inflicted by the criminally-minded "saints" who happened to be born sexually full-fledged, hardly a single cultured androgyne ever betrays his bisexuality to a single confi-
- ↑ Non-mushy specimens are given in my AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ANDROGYNE. Its editor killed the mushy.
