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Lincoln's Confession

Much has been spoken lately on the sexual preferences of Abraham Lincoln. In his writings, among other things there have been hints of maybe at the least a homo-erotic lifestyle hidden from his public life. As there is no proof or 'smoking gun' per say it is all merely conjecture and there is little doubt it will remain so. It is known that Lincoln wrote poems and notes with double-entendre hidden in them, including many euphemisms of the era for homosexuals. Of course, this means nothing, Lincoln was a man with a sense of the ironic and enjoyed self-abasement particularly when it came to humor.

It is often spoke of how when traveling he would sleep with other men in the same bed. In today's society, this would be shocking but in Lincoln's time, it was quite common. It is also noted of the devoted life-long friendships he had with some men and yet that too does not necessarily denote any sign of homosexually.

As for his wife, Mary Todd who could offer nothing for a man other than to serve as a beard, Lincoln even tried to renege on his proposal. It was only after his close friend Joshua Speed, left Springfield that Lincoln fulfilled his contract to marry Miss. Todd.

The following is a fictional letter, supposedly written by Lincoln to be delivered only after his death to his lifelong friend and companion Joshua Speed. In it, he asks Speed to destroy said missal once read but Mr. Speed's heart would not allow it. It has just been found under the floorboards of the boarding house where Speed lived.

My Dearest Joshua,

If you are reading this letter it must mean I have left this ungodly orb, we call earth. I am writing here finally to express my undying love for you. I know you think of me as a coward for never expressing my feelings for you publically and yet you surly must understand that in my life it would be suicide. Joshua even in death I must beg for your understanding and ask that you destroy this letter after reading. With what I have allowed to happen to our great country, my legacy could not withstand the further smear of a lavender sash.(editor note: Lavender sash was euphemism of the era for a homosexual)

You tease me of rutting with my woman and offer my progeny as proof. Yet you need only to look at how they are spaced to realize we only mated with the need of procreation, such as a stud called in to mate with the mares. I lie in bed with her bulk and picture your slim muscular body that we both know should be there. I swear to you it causes revulsion to me almost as bad as did this terrible war. My life is committed to my family and my state but my love is devoted to only you. I truly believe it is the slavery of our type in the heterosexual world that helped convince me to end slavery in our country. I swear one would think that in the modern era of the 1860's the sexual desires of a person would matter not a wit. Let us just pray that we in this country do not have to wait until the 1960's before we achieve sexual freedom.

My dear friend I yearn for the days of yore, when we traveled up and down our fair state enjoying each other's companionship by day and each other's bodies by night. When I think back to those nights with my bone in your velvet sleeve and my arms around your body, ah I swear it is the only thing that keeps me moving ahead. Do you remember that morning in that little boarding house outside of Springfield? The landlady walked in on us as we slept still in the shape of the evil number. My feet tangled up in the brass headboard and thus trapped to exposure. You my true friend, always with the quick wit yelling at me to wake up because I had turned in my sleep yet again. She may have tsk, tsked us but I think she fully believed what you were saying. Of course, a lady of such slow wit could not have thought of any other reason for us to be sleeping as such.

Well I must close this letter, as I need ready myself for the theatre yet again. My frog of a wife has decided we need more culture, something she could not achieve no matter what she tried. We are going to a new play at Ford's called 'Our American Cousin' and from what I understand it is so bad I won't even make my bodyguard stay for the whole performance.

Therefore, this is good-bye my dearest Joshua and my only prayer would be that we meet in person before you receive this letter. If that is not in the fates, Then I hope you are at least one hundred before you receive it.

Until then, you're "Close Friend":

(Editor's note: and here it is just signed A.)

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