I knew a gay man that died. He had a heart transplant. He wanted a woman's heart. I didn't think that was right, for one he wasn't that small and other moral reasons. But he got it, he then died right after the operation. I didn't know where his grave was, I accidentally ran across his grave at the local cemetery. I never liked him much, because I've had a problem in the past, with gay men wanting me. But when I saw some raccoon shit on his headstone. Even though I didn't care about him, I cared enough to take my foot and remove the raccoon shit from his headstone. Later I asked his gay partner if he saw the raccoon shit on his headstone. He said: Yes! I thought to myself. I didn't even care, but I could at least move the shit off his headstone. Why didn't he?! That impression of gay men kinda stuck with me.