I’m no stranger to the walk of shame, but this is the first morning I’ve ridden the R train into Manhattan with metallic blue eye shadow smeared across the upper third of my face like a sloppy Warhol silkscreen. I’ve spent the prior evening at a bacchanal called Eden Underground: a sex party for transsexuals and their admirers in Park Slope that just rang in its one-year anniversary. What brought me to the polymorphously perverse bi-monthly Friday night was a search for gender identity’s Yeti: gay men attracted to the straight men who are attracted to transsexuals—the... More >>>