Before being introduced to Provincetown, I considered myself to be an anti-beach type of person. Beach towns were all annoying tourists, garish boardwalks and gym-sculpted, sun-kissed bodies that give pale white boys like me severe complexes. Double all that for gay beaches.
And, although I've lived in the D.C. area for two decades now, my trips to the nearest gay oceanic mecca, Rehoboth have been few, though enough to leave me with the feeling that the gay aspect of the town is more of an addendum than anything else -- pockets of queerdom carved out in fine style, but still separate in many ways.
P'town, on the other hand, feels like a fully woven fabric, a place where everything comes together in one big whole -- some bears over there, straight couples with kids over here, drag queens prancing down the street, lesbians laughing on restaurant patios, twinks giggling on their outdoor decks, and middle-aged gay guys like myself relaxing with the sudden effortlessness of simply being.