A gay couple is walking down the street in front of me. They are in the process of trading jackets (each is wearing a different color of a lightweight, down-filled parka). Under the jackets both are wearing t-shirts, and they have the same trim, muscled physique. As they are underway with the swap – still walking at a brisk pace – a gust of wind arrives, and for several seconds both men struggle to maintain control of the flapping garments, one sleeve in one sleeve out, as they try not to break stride. What might otherwise be seen as a surprise moment of slapstick comedy is for them a rude disruption of an otherwise tightly-managed, clothing-swap operation. I can see a desperation to the fumbling, as if neither wants the other to know he’s having difficulties.