The Death of Heather House

It was nearly lunchtime on that last warm Friday of 2004. It was already after Election Day, and Thanksgiving was around the corner. Maybe there would be nice days before New Year's Eve, as Washington can be like that. But this was the day that Kevin, Matt and Sean would finally realize that the Summer of 2004 was completely over.

Flashback Boy: omg! u have to see this pic
DCBoynxtdr: send away…

After a moment, Sean IMed Kevin a link from Hot-or-Not, a sort of rolling roulette of random pictures, where you're urged to rate each guy on whether he's hot…or not. And the pictures come and go so quickly -- much like the men, no doubt -- it has a kind of video-game quality to it. You can't backspace to find that guy who deserves a double-take. He's already gone once you rate him - or indicate you'd like to meet him. If he, in his rapid-fire clicking, also happens to say "yes" to meeting you (among the many he probably says "yes" to within 5 minutes), the system yells "BINGO" and you both get a message telling you that "you have a winner."

It's then up to both of you to somehow take the next step, before "Game Over" metaphorically appears in the silence. The whole thing can run its course in minutes, and then you're back to the roulette wheel. He's "hot." He's "not."

So Kevin clicked on the link Sean sent him. The boy was, indeed, hot.

DCBoynxtdr: yummy…but he's 21…
Flashback Boy: and your point is…? :)

Ah yes, Kevin thought, Sean may be pushing what Hedwig would call his "mid-late thirties," but his taste for chicken was resilient as ever. Kevin admired that about Sean, never failing to point out that he enjoyed living vicariously through Sean's exploits.

DCBoynxtdr: did he msg u?
Flashback Boy: not yet, im gonna msg him though
DCBoynxtdr: he's still in school, too. my goodness.
Flashback Boy: it isn't lost on me that when he was born, I was driving a car and applying to colleges, but hey. That hasn't stopped me yet.
DCBoynxtdr: well, at least he's not jaded yet. An attractive departure from the guys at the beach.
Flashback Boy: I hear ya.

It was November, and they were still comparing everything to Rehoboth. The beach house that Kevin and Sean shared with a group of other guys all summer was the center of their universe from Memorial Day to the last, chilly weekend of September when the lease ended, and the future of Heather House was in doubt. The owner was toying with selling the place, and the time was quickly approaching when most beach house leases for the coming year would have to be signed. It was a real catch of a house - lots of bedrooms, lots of parking, and a big, heated pool in the back yard. One of the guys in the house had joked that they should have t-shirts made up for when they'd hit the bars in Rehoboth, with "Don't Ask Me About My Heated Pool" printed on them. On more than one occasion that summer, the pool was dubbed "the man soup."

DCBoynxtdr: I saw Rick Derris on P Street yesterday, btw…
Flashback Boy: Oh really? How did he look?
DCBoynxtdr: Eh, the same.

Rick Derris was a character in the movie "Clerks" - the stud of the local high school who the heroes felt they had to constantly measure up to. This may or may not have had much to do with the guy Kevin and Sean met at the beach the past summer and nicknamed "Rick Derris." Like with many nicknames that would later take on a certain irony, Kevin just thought the guy's real name sounded a lot like "Rick Derris" and they drunkenly ran with it the night they met him, and it just stuck.

DCBoynxtdr: He was going somewhere, clearly, but not paying attention much to his surroundings.
Flashback Boy: Ah what a hottie.

Rick Derris and Sean had a fling early in the summer, but it petered out very quickly like most things in Rehoboth. The air out there was not just filled with cocoa butter and hormones. There was also a hurried sense of everything passing quickly. The bars closed at one a.m., the weekends always flew by too fast. And flings, no matter how intense, were always just of the moment. The only thing that was slow in Rehoboth was the traffic on Route 1.

DCBoynxtdr: woops, brb. phone..
Flashback Boy: np

Kevin got up from the couch in his apartment to answer his cell phone. While Sean and most of his friends were in offices spread out all over the environs of Washington, Kevin was now a consultant, running his own shop out of his apartment that had a wall of west-facing windows, looking out from the seventh floor over the crane-dotted skyline of Logan Circle.

The phone was flashing and buzzing, and the caller ID popped up - it was the owner of Heather House calling, and Kevin immediately said hello, signaling he knew who it was.

"So, I've made up my mind, now that it's getting late and you guys might be looking for something else," the owner said, hurriedly. "I'm selling the house after all."

"Ahh, okay," Kevin said.

"I really love the place, and I know you did, too, but I just can't deal with keeping it up anymore and…I think it was just time."

In that moment, Kevin was relieved to hear it. He'd been the housemother of Heather House, and was still sort of in the middle between the guys that wanted to go back the next year and the owner. Kevin had made up his mind late in the season that it would be his last summer at Heather House, and that maybe other horizons were in store for Summer 2005. So, he was able to truly say goodbye to the house he loved, and didn't get the pang of sadness when the owner revealed its fate for certain.

For Sean, however, it was his first summer in a beach house with an actual seasonal share. Sean had been going to beach once a summer for a while, but being in Heather House was a big deal for him. Even though Sean also knew that, for a number of reasons, he'd not be back at Heather House the following year, and had the sense that the house was going to be sold, the news was still likely to be sad to hear.

When Kevin got back to his laptop, Sean's away-message was on.

DCBoynxtdr: hey - when yr back, give me a ring. HH is officially dead.
Flashback Boy: please leave a message (bleeeeeeeeeep)

Kevin then noticed that Matt's IMs were being forwarded to his cell phone. The past summer was a very important one for Matt as well, but in other ways. As far as Kevin could see, it was the summer that Matt really opened up and started to live his life without so much anxiety and fear of the world around him. A couple of the visits out to Heather House were momentous for Matt that year, especially one particularly infamous weekend where the house was full of members and guests (but Kevin was with his boyfriend and fellow Heather House member, Dane, in New York), and hosted a big after-hours party in the pool….the living room….and at least three of the bedrooms….

But as he clicked on Matt's screen name and the IM window popped open, the CD playing on the stereo in the next room switched over to a very old song -- "Point of View" by DB Boulevard. It was the first song Kevin ever played for Matt that had a message behind it. A year or two earlier, as he was becoming closer friends with Matt, Kevin played it late at night at a small chill-out he was hosting for friends after a night of clubbing (it was already a big hit all over the place), and directed Matt to listen to the lyrics. Matt had a lot of anxiety about life at the time. A few weeks later, the song suddenly began to play off Matt's iPod broadcasting on his car radio, while Kevin was smiling to himself in the back seat. Matt had not only listened to the song -- he'd heard it, too. By his first visit to Heather House, he was opening his eyes to all the colors of the world, so beautiful.

DCBoynxtdr: hey you - some breaking news on HH, tho not entirely unexpected…we may need to have a wake. ttyl….

[Posted: November 12, 2004] PERMALINK

Strange Love

As soon as feet touched sidewalk, Roy was ready for a drink. He'd dressed a bit snazzier than usual for work that morning, as the party for Matt at Halo was to start at 8 o'clock, and with the commute from Rosslyn to his apartment on 7th Street to drop off his gym bag, he'd have no time to change. So there was little in between his mouth and the first blueberry mojito of the evening with everyone -- except for a certainly uneventful trip.

Immediately, it became eventful. From the front of his building all the way to the Metro, it seemed the streets of Arlington were crowded with cruisy gay men, with their phasers set on "stunning." As he headed around corners, Roy had to almost dodge them. They were all shooting looks his way. Where did they all come from? He was so happy he wore that outfit to work. It certainly stood out among the castrated fashions of Northern Virginia.

On the Metro platform at Rosslyn station, he switched on his iPod and flipped around for something different. Just like DirecTV, he thought. So many channels and nothing to watch. The many GBs of memory were overwhelmed with ripped music, and he'd completely lost track of what he'd long since stopped listening to on the Metro. So he basically played around with the dial in his pocket and just tapped the play button randomly, the whole selection out of his sight.

On came an old Depeche Mode standard. Right away, as with every song that comes on, he had a flash-image in his head. It was the late eighties. He was a college freshman. His Lacoste collar was up. His hair was kind of big. His loafers were shiny. His belt was looser. No glasses. And his mind was on nothing but sex sex sex. He was barely out of his teens. And his member was barely in his pants.

"Ah, the eighties. When times were good," he thought, with a trace of sarcasm. The train arrived quickly, and the hordes rushed for the doors. He slipped in behind a group of middle-aged military women in snappy uniforms, all gabbing about some Pentagon shop talk or something. He wasn't listening. Roy was more interested in giving in to sin.

So naturally, once the doors shut on the Metro, Roy's eyes were darting all over the place. There had to be SOMETHING to fixate on for the next 8 minutes.

Sure enough, there was a guy sitting mid-car, reading a book, hair flopping down in front of him. He was adorable...

Pain...will you return it?...I'll say it again...Pain..

He smiled to himself. Such are the little distractions, he thought.

In 1987, he would have stood there burning a hole in that boy's forehead, waiting for him to look up so he could capture some eye contact. But today, it only took about ten seconds to realize how silly he'd look cruising this guy, particularly since there was no way (and no energy) to act on it, and no desire to be remembered that way by some stranger on the Metro. Roy'd had enough of that after all these years in Washington.

When he got to Gallery Place after the usual quick-and-harried transfer, it was a short walk home. He picked up his mail, dropped it off inside his front door with the gym bag and his work ID, and he was off to Halo.

MEANWHILE.......Kevin was in a rush after finishing his condo association's annual meeting, and he was already late for the party. He was expecting an important email from a client that he'd want to answer promptly, so his fingers were clicking away on his laptop as the clock drew close to 8:30. His only email was from Lulu, who was finishing a trip through Italy with her parents:

Hey baby- OK, so I am writing this as I sit in my hotel room at the Straf in Milan on my last night over here. It's been amazing, beyond expectations even in the chilly and wet November weather. A mix of family bonding, sightseeing, great food, great shopping and friendly people. And let's not forget the hot Italian men - because even the ugly ones are hot somehow :)

A few highlights for the next travelers, besides this hotel which I'm in love with... it is new and modern and in the best location in town, with all rustic materials in an amazingly harmonic combination, worth checking it out. Il Coriandolo is a nice restaurant in Milan with the most beautiful Italian waiters ever. Oh, food's good too ;) Shopping at Via Veneto is amazing, biggest Italian designer stores I have ever seen, yeah, I know, it does make sense, but it is still very unusual (but of course, fabulous! hehe) to see a Gucci or Versace store in every corner. And let's not forget Armani, which surprised me with so much cool stuff. The hotel in Venice was also fantastic, brand new with an amazing staff , big rooms and beautiful modern decor. Rome's great, with a lively atmosphere and a little bit of everything, one restaurant I really liked was Glass, at the Trastevere neighborhood www.glass-hostaria.com. Very good food, great wine. I don't want to come home yet.

Anyway, I have to go pack now and get ready to fly back tomorrow, miss you! Say hi to everyone at Matt's party tonight.

Kisses
Lulu

He was tempted to write back immediately and demand more juicy stories about the men. He knew she'd been planning on meeting a certain guy who she knew from Washington who just happened to be traveling in Europe at the same time. But alas, she was going to be home in a day - it could wait.

So he grabbed his keys and headed out to Halo, 2 blocks away.

Kevin ran into Roy on the way in, and when they got upstairs, the festivities were in full swing. They both went straight to the bar to get a drink, and saw Matt, Sasha, Ken and some of Matt's friends (including J.K. and Ryan). Right behind them, the rest of the gang started appearing at the top of the entrance stairs: Chuck & Dirty, John -- then Jamie, Scott, Dan, Rich, Michael, Christopher, Ran & Jeff -- then finally, Sean.

Everyone was in a festive mood, and Matt was clearly happy with the turnout. Everyone was putting a little something into the hat to help Matt retire the debt on his neighborhood commission race, which he won in a landslide on Election Day. Matt was now going to be one of six commissioners who would help decide the future of Logan Circle -- and was part of a new governing gay majority. It was fitting that Matt be the politician in the room. He had a gift -- one which had been hidden in a shell for too long.

Ken put his arm around Roy at the bar.

"So where's Elaine?"

"Oh, this is Tuesday," Roy said. "Elaine doesn't get out of bed on Tuesday."

"Have you ever seen her at Cobalt on 80s Night?" Kevin said, smirking. "Please, she's in her coffin sleeping off the weekend as usual."

Then Roy spotted NovaCute1 over Kevin's shoulder, way across the room.

Once again, a sensory flash hit him in an instant. It was a guy he used to hook up with off AOL five years earlier, back when he was dating someone else and living in Dupont Circle during its gay days. Roy'd given this guy a fake name, and would occasionally get to order him to come over to his darkened apartment late at night to come inside, get naked, get it on and leave. He never knew the guy's name, nor barely ever spoke to him. But they'd hooked up at least a dozen or more times in 1999 -- each occasion an act of technical infidelity, even though the guy he was dating at the time was never someone he was serious about. And each time, Roy would stop being Roy in order to be PrepGuy8 -- an identity he'd deleted, ironically, a week after he and his boyfriend-at-the-time broke up, and never had it re-surfaced since. He had a sudden rush of pain in his stomach....fear. It was not something he regretted at all on balance, but certainly not something he was necessarily proud of. Like everyone in the room, his life was complex. Online hookups, multiple personalities, doomed relationships filled with deception and drifting, unspoken feelings, desperate unhappiness at sleeping alone. It took Roy a while to finally realize he was normal, that a real life was a journey, and never quite in a straight line. And the struggles of those days were all in his past now. All those things had been sorted out for the most part. He was a grown up. At least, more so than ever before. He had grown-up concerns today that didn't require PrepGuy8's intervention.

So, like most things, Roy laughed off his pang of fear. He just smiled, and wondered if NovaCute1 ever even got a good look at his face in the dark those times they'd hooked up. Roy sent him a pretty bad picture the first time they hooked up. And the guy never complained at the time anyway, so...Who knows? And frankly, he thought, who cares?

Dane arrived. Kevin was happy to see his face. He'd worried that Dane would be at the office late, as he usually was those days. But there he was, saying hello to everyone on his way in. Kevin stepped over to say hello, as did Sean and John.

Immediately, conversation turned to New Year's Eve. Kevin and Dane had been toying with going to Barcelona, but every bit of research was discouraging. Paris was lingering out there. Kevin was still reeling over how much fun he'd had celebrating Steve's 30th the previous June. Many, many times throughout that long, endless party of a weekend, Kevin would hear himself muttering -- "GOD I wish those guys were here.."

So all sorts of plans were being hatched. The four of them would check on the latest package deals. John had to sleep on it. Sean and Kevin, by the way they'd bounce up and down when the subject was raised, clearly had their minds made up. Dane was always game for a trip abroad with Kevin, despite the fact that the parties weren't so much his cup of tea.

"Hey Roy," Sean said. "Are you coming to Paris??"

He spun around: "Um. Sure. You paying?"

"You HAVE to come. New Year's Eve. All of us together. $1300 per person hotel included," Kevin said. "I'll make it happen, just say yes."

The party broke up around 11:00. Matt led a small group over to 80's Night at Cobalt. Kevin and Dane went to grab a late dinner at Thai Tanic. Sean, John and Roy walked out together and said good-bye on the sidewalk. As John and Sean walked over to 14th Street, Roy waved for a cab when he saw NovaCute1 walking away with two other people. He was looking back over his shoulder, and for a split second, Roy couldn't look away. Then, they exchanged a knowing smile that lasted about a nanosecond less than too-long, and both looked away. A cab pulled up.

R.I.P., PrepGuy8, he mused to himself. Thanks for everything.

When Roy got home, he turned on the TV and hopped into bed. He checked out what TiVo had taped for him that day. After a year together, TiVo clearly knew how to please Roy. There was a wonderful sort of trust between them -- Roy was communicative, TiVo was giving and thoughtful. It was the most functional relationship in his life, he thought. And that was okay.

First item in "Now Playing" -- a TiVo selection:

Dr Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964) Peter Sellars, George C. Scott, Slim Pickens. Sellars was nominated for an Oscar for portraying four different characters in this red-phone suspense comedy about nuclear holocaust. Black & White.

Roy was impressed with TiVo's wit on that one. He had to show his appreciation.

[Posted: November 17, 2004] PERMALINK

 

Do We Have to Be Friends with Everyone?

11/21 9:01pm
MESSAGE from
Sean
hey r u back
from ny? Halo??

11/21 9:02pm
MESSAGE from
Kevin
yes! give me 5
mins...

Kevin was just getting out of the clothes he'd worn all day in New York, and on the plane back to Washington, so all he had to do was climb into something comfortable, brush his teeth and be out the door to meet Sean.

As he rounded the corner of 13th and Logan Circle, he saw Matt coming towards him from P Street. He called out to him.

"Hey there, where are you going?"

"Home, what about you? You just get back?"

"Yeah, and I'm going over to meet Sean at Halo. He just went on date #2 with that guy he told us about at Ken's party on Thursday."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm tired."

"Come on, I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow, and this is the last night we'll all be together in town for a while….Come onnnn…"

Matt gave in. Cocktails? Boys? Not much persuasion needed.

So, when Matt and Kevin got to the top of the stairs at Halo, Sean was at the bar, and gave them both a kiss.

"So, it went well, I take it?" Kevin asked.

Sean was bouncing a bit. "Yes, it did."

Matt put in the orders. The usuals: Stoli Vanil and ginger ale for Kevin; Mojito for Sean (tonight's flavor: blueberry); and Stoli O and soda with lime for himself. And Sean told them all about Date-Number-Two-Guy. The coffee, the laughing, the eye-contact, the flirting…

"Sounds like gay-first-base to me," Kevin said.

"No, gay-first-base is fucking," Matt said. "Let's not kid ourselves."

"Oh I'm going on another date with him, for sure," Sean said. "We'll see how it goes, but I like him...So tell us about New York!"

"Ugh," Kevin said. "I can report, my friends, that New York, as a whole..." he raised his glass "...is officially over." Clink.

"Over?"

"Oh it's over, boys. There is nothing left of it. What little scene there was left after Hurricane Crystal, Hurricane Crank and Hurricane Tina blew everyone's house down has been choked and strangled to death by the mere fact that you can't dance anywhere in New York anymore. I mean, there will always be great restaurants, and the loud crazy people, and the museums and Broadway. But going for any other gay reason? No. It's over."

"Oh! So wait a minute, Kevin. How did things go with Dane and your parents?"

Matt's eyes widened. "Dane met your parents?!"

Kevin nodded, and regaled them about dinner earlier that evening, before the shuttle flight home. He and Dane had been in New York to see "Wicked," "'night Mother" and "Hairspray" - capped off with dinner at a popular Italian bistro on Restaurant Row with his mom and dad from Long Island.

"It went really well. He was not as horrified by them as I thought he'd be." Kevin laughed.

"Oh, we always think our parents are worse than they are."

"Yeah, but it was great. I feel a weird kind of relief, you know? I've introduced so many boyfriends to them before now, and every one of them is now an ex. And I had this feeling of dread leading up to this, imagining how pathetic I must seem to them, so many failed relationships. You know? I mean, in their world, people don't fail so often at this. They marry people they end up not loving too much, but they don't break up, they don't get divorced. And they don't put their parents through ten different such dinners as I've done with mine."

"But hey," Sean said, "you know this is different from the rest. Dane is different."

Kevin realized Sean was more right than he knew. Dane was different, and at that moment he was most different in how Kevin was no longer afraid of failure. It wasn't just that he'd failed so many times that he was "good" at it now. No, that wasn't it. It was Dane. HE was different. He was a solid person, who said nothing he didn't really mean. And who could never say something just for the sake of saying it. It was quiet affection from a serious person. Nothing ever trivial. It was what Kevin may not have known he wanted…but it was something he had certainly needed all his life.

"Oh my God, don't turn around," Matt said. "It's that guy Roy is hot for."

"Oohh Alejandro," Sean said, as if ordering a delicious enchilada. They all salivated.

"Wow, he is pretty hot," Kevin said. "Great teeth…"

"Didn't you see him at Ken's party? That's where we all saw him for the first time," Sean said.

"Oh yeah, I remember Roy being all excited like a little girl about something. I think I was too busy mingling."

Sean finished his drink and changed the subject.

"So….Matt."

Matt looked back from staring at Alejandro.

"Paris?"

Matt's head popped back. "I'm not celebrating the coming of the two-thousand-fifth year of Our Lord with the French," he said, tongue firmly in cheek.

"Oh come on! We're all going, and you know you're going to read the stories and be tortured by missing out."

"Who is we?"

Kevin ticked them off: himself, Dane, Sean, John, Roy and, expectedly, Steve would be there, since he lived in Paris.

"Will Elaine be with you?"

Sean and Kevin looked at each other and nodded with a certainty.

"Oh, Elaine with be with us," they both said, giggling.

"Well, then it's gonna be quite a party," Matt said, smiling. "I just don't think I can swing it, to be honest. And I'd rather go someplace warm, wouldn't you?"

"Hey," Kevin said, "Paris is Paris. It's a beautiful town, with lovely people, lovely music, and lovely parties. And New Year's is about one thing only - partying with your loved ones. And that's what I intend to do. I doubt we'll even see the sun the whole time we're there, so the weather will not be a factor for me."

"Yeah, I bet it'll be pretty warm downstairs at the Queen all night," Sean said, smiling, and bouncing on his heel again. "Man, we are gonna have so much fun…"

"France?" Matt said, shivering. "Do we have to like France again so soon?"

"Your loss, dear," Kevin said, clinking his glass with Matt's. "We promise to tell you over and over about how much fun we had."

And that's when it hit all three of them around the same time, but they didn't say it out loud to each other. It was the end of a very important year in all their lives. They'd gotten a year older. Probably more than a year wiser. And they were together, the three of them, for what might be the last time before the crush of the holidays.

Life had been all sorts of strange the previous year, as the New Year approached. They'd each felt a bit cut off in some way. Unfulfilled. Matt was in a failing relationship. Sean was single again. Kevin had just met Dane but wasn't on his feet with it yet. So much seemed uncertain.

And just at that moment, the Candee Jay song came on again. It had played at Sundance in Rehoboth, and on car stereos most of the summer. It was a year later, and so much had changed. Not the least was the Summer of 2004, when each of them reached an epiphany about life, and went through it together. And they smiled, talked about Alejandro, and Date-Number-Two-Guy, and remembering how they laughed when Team America got even, and all sorts of things.

But the words of the song rang in their heads, and while this might be the last time they'd be together like this until well after Thanksgiving, they were looking at each other, listening to each other's stories, laughing their heads off, and feeling very thankful.

THE NEXT MORNING…..Roy was pissed, and not in the British-drunkenly-blissful sense, as he looked out from his Arlington office across the Potomac at the Washington Monument while the early morning sun was coming up on Monday. It stood as a rock-hard reminder of all the boys he had known who had only one thing on their minds.

Why, he asked himself, are so many guys in that city just across the river looking out just for themselves - interested only in the next selfish thrill or an opportunity to make themselves feel just a little better than the next guy?

Roy looked back to the computer monitor, pushed his glasses up on his nose and attacked the keyboard.

RoyBoi68: E, you there?
LaineyB4U: yeah, what's up, babe?
RoyBoi68: can I complain for a moment and/or get your perspective on something?
LaineyB4U: of course

Elaine was one of Roy's oldest friends, and while she was very hard to find outside of the clubs most of the time, she always listened when he talked to her, and she always cared.

RoyBoi68: and remember that silly misunderstanding between Ken and me from way back when he thought i was interested in his then-b/f, but we've buried the hatchet and grown close again?
LaineyB4U: yes…
RoyBoi68: well, I went with Matt, Sean and Kevin to Ken's party at FoodBar on Thursday, and Alejandro showed up too … mmmmmm, Alejandro!

Roy had met Alejandro only a week before, but already things were clicking. He was at the stage when his heart skipped a beat at the very thought of the guy. He had dark, soulful eyes, a mop of black hair that he would toss in such an effortlessly sexy way, beautiful, sun-drenched skin that the hottest Latin boys were always blessed with, and full lips that were just begging to be kissed (or perhaps bitten when appropriate).

But more than that, he seemed free of defects and drama, the antithesis of all that was beginning to jade him about D.C. men. The two could converse easily for long stretches without the awkward silences that mark doomed relationships. Alejandro was a professional, a man with means and ambition. And best of all, he really liked Roy. AND they hadn't slept together yet…

RoyBoi68: I can't remember being as happy as I was at that party in ages, E. I was catching up with tons of friends, getting along great with everyone there including Ken. Alejandro left fairly early -- around 10:30 -- and we had a nice kiss when I walked him out, talked about getting together again, etc.
LaineyB4U: uhhuh..sorry I missed it..i was disco-napping.
RoyBoi68: I expected as much...so I talk to him on the phone last night to set something up for this evening. he said how he'd had fun on Thursday "for the most part." when I asked him about what that meant, he told me how my ALLEGED friend Ken had cornered him and was alluding too all kinds of terrible stuff about me - drug use, STDs - all kinds of complete BS!
LaineyB4U: well, almost all of it… ;)
RoyBoi68: No, I was accused of absolute falsehoods, trust me. Things Ken knows full well are not true, esp about having STDs which I've never had. And I don't do nose-drugs like he told this guy - it was COMPLETELY insane. I'm SO pissed off, I can hardly contain myself!
LaineyB4U: you should be mad…ken is, and always was, a two-faced little shit. Someone in the closet that long just learns how to be a two-face to the world.
RoyBoi68: the thing that pisses me off about too many gay men is that they cannot STAND the thought of anyone else being happy, so they do their damnedest to make other people miserable - fortunately, Alejandro believed me when I told him it is complete bullshit
RoyBoi68: Where is Miss Manners when I need her? :-)
LaineyB4U: well honey, first off don't paint everyone with a broad brush…most of the boys out there are just out to have a good time. And then there are people like Ken…who can't.

He bit down on a pen and nodded at that one. It was true. Ever since Ken came out of the closet at age 34, he'd been showing everyone how emotionally stunted he was underneath. And maybe Roy had just had enough.

LaineyB4U: ….and they try to drag everyone else down to their level to ease their "pain" when what they really need to do is just say "what the fuck" and let it all fuckin' GO… I've never seen Ken enjoy himself once in the whole time I've known him. You try to get him out on the dancefloor and he just fights you. It was cute in the beginning, now it's really boring.
RoyBoi68: What a phony … I can't believe I worked so hard to keep him in my life, esp. after he wanted to believe the worst about me and his ex!
LaineyB4U: let it go baby. you've got too many other great people in your life …: and what's more, maybe yr not meant to be friends with everyone. Ever think of that?
RoyBoi68: you're the best, sweets …I don't deserve you.
LaineyB4U: nobody does

Roy put his "away" message back on and tried to do some more work. His mind drifted back to thoughts of his Latin hottie, lighting only for a moment on the subject of karma, and what a royal bitch she can be.

But E was right, as usual. We really do get to pick our friends. Some of them will drive us completely crazy, but we know we love them. And we know why. There is just enough history there of saving each other's asses, celebrating each other's greatest joys, and holding each other's hands in the darkest hours. You fight, you throw things. You talk trash up and down at each other. But you end up back where you were again.

Those are the ones you never let go.

[Posted: November 22, 2004] PERMALINK

 

American Ramadan: Eat. Eat Some More. Reflect. Have Dessert.

A little after midnight in California, everyone had gone to bed except for Matt and Michelle, and the wine was flowing. Even though Matt's internal clock was three hours ahead since he'd just gotten off a plane, it was well worth staying up for because Michelle had worked for a wine importer and she knew her stuff. The conversation, quite naturally, turned to the boys who have been in and out of Matt's life, and then to an unusually frank discussion, given their red-state lineage, about sex.

It was officially Thanksgiving Day, and Thanksgiving 2004 started out for Matt much like Thanksgiving 2002: wine and tears with his sister, and talking about being gay.

It had only been two years since Matt came fully out to his family, and only slightly longer that he had come to some conclusions of his own and made peace with his sexuality. Two years later, he knew exactly where he wanted to be for Thanksgiving, even though he had visited his sister on the opposite coast just a month earlier.

Matt learned a few things about Michelle he wasn't entirely sure he had wanted to know, but he still appreciated her openness with him. Despite the two years' age difference between them, they related to each other more like twins, and shared an emotional bond that belied the three time zones, and years of tempestous life on opposite ends of America, that normally separated them.

"I got all my test results back this week, and they were negative," Matt said. "Not much reason to worry, but you never know."

Michelle leaned in, quietly. "Please tell me you always use protection."

Matt hesitated for a moment. His brow furrowed.

"Matt..." she paused for a long time. "I don't want to bury you." she said. Her voice trembled and tears welled up in her eyes.

He could barely look directly at her. In a way, an immediate wall of frustration could immediately go up between them. Gay sex equals death -- being gay is a sickness. It always ends up here. Indeed, if Matt was a hotheaded 20-something who had yet to appreciate the subtleties of life, he probably would have started an argument. And missed one of life's small, profound opportunities.

No, he thought in that instant. He looked into her eyes. It wasn't ignorance, or a latent emotion of any sort he could see in her eyes. It was love. And for a moment, he almost cried himself.

"Michelle, it's not like that. I really am conscientious..." he took her hand. "But I would be lying if I said there weren't a couple of close calls in the past."

"Please, Matt. I kind of like having you around. I do not want to bury you," she repeated.

It's easy enough on any typical night in Logan Circle to never see reality in such stark terms as this moment, Matt thought. People think nothing of laughing off, or looking down their noses, at the truth that despite the glitter of life inside those six or seven city blocks, there was death happening all around them every day. It wasn't like twenty years ago, but it never went away. He thought about the old definition of "safe sex" - two words you didn't hear much anymore - and how really the only truly "safe" sex is none at all since there was some element of risk in everything. He wondered how many of his friends were really as safe as he had been. Then he thought about how one of his faults might be an excess of honesty, which can make things seem worse than they are.

Matt finished his wine and said good-night. He stood hugging his sister just as he had on Thanksgiving two years ago, after having told her he would probably never date women again. She had cried then, too. Not out of shame at her brother, but out of sadness for how long he had struggled, how long he had kept secrets from those he loved the most and this sudden distance that had been between them without her knowledge, and out of concern at the hardships that come with being gay.

He knew what was probably going through her mind now, the same thing that was probably going through her mind two years later: "My baby brother might die before me." He was too in love with life, and just stubborn enough, not to let that happen. He thought about the Alejandros, past and present, the undeniable direction his life was now taking as a gay man at peace with himself-- and the risks he'd taken with his body, and with his heart -- and decided that he'd rather focus on the future from now on.

MEANWHILE, IN BUENOS AIRES....Kevin and Dane walked slowly down Juncal to where it turns into Arenales at a pretty little dog park. The rain had finally stopped after two long days, and the sun had been out all day. They had napped past the closing time of the local Coto supermarket near their Recoleta apartment, so the dinner Kevin had envisioned cooking for Thanksgiving was off. And they were out looking for a restaurant where a reservation wouldn't be a problem. It was a calm, warm, beautiful night with a full moon.

They'd stopped in at Gran Bar Danzon - part of the constellation of must-do's in B.A., and the last one on their list. But it was too full at ten o'clock, hopping and vibrant and overflowing with beautiful people, and they were not in a terribly a-list mood that night. They just wanted a nice dinner. They'd had a phenomenal dinner at Sucre the night before, seated in the exact center of the dining room between a gaggle of Porteña trophy wives kibbitzing on the left, and a pair of lugubrious Brazilian businessmen on the right, eyeing Dane's bottle of 2000 Cobos. They'd lunched earlier in the day at Bar Uriarte with Kevin's friend Helena, a recent transplant from São Paulo who now held court in her gorgeous Palermo Viejo townhouse.

So the local Rodozinho would suffice. It was a sad little Brazilian-style chain churrascaria at Avenida Callao and Arenales. There were a smattering of gringos around, but not much else. The meat was coming fast and furious to Dane's plate. Kevin, as usual, did the salad bar.

"So what are you thankful for?" Kevin asked.

"I'd say," Dane said, savoring a bite, "I'm most thankful for the ability to travel to a place like this on Thanksgiving. I mean, there are so many people who can't travel the way I can. Or many who can and choose not to."

"God knows plenty of people could be here right now and never appreciate it like you do." A small basket of french fries landed on the table, with a bowl of ketchup.

"Well that's the point. I can appreciate a place like this because I've traveled so much, and when I think of where I came from in life, I'm struck by how much it has added to my life."

"Yeah, we have to wake up sometimes to how lucky we are," Kevin said. Then changed his face a bit. "But you know what, I'm not so sure I 100% agree with that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you talk about your life now compared to where you came from. Neither one of us had an easy childhood. I mean, we each had different struggles, but struggles nonetheless. And you know, neither one of us had much of an inheritance of any kind. I surely got very little emotional support from my family when I set out on this life."

Kevin bit down on a fry, and was clearly on another tear about something.

"I mean, I made this life on my own. I didn't get much help at all. Sure, I got help with paying for college, but I'd say those days were pampered and safe compared to the real education I got after college, when I was completely on my own. And being gay...Seriously, I did it all on my own. So, I'm thankful, but I think it was kind of dumb for me to say I've been lucky."

"Well, but you have been."

"Why? Because I'm doing well now? Luck had nothing to do with it, honey. I worked my fucking ass off to get to this table and to have this glamourous meal," he said smirking.

"Cheers," Dane chuckled, clinking his Coca-Light to Kevin's water glass.

"Honestly, and you did, too. Much more than I did. I mean, I'm all for gratitude and having my feet on the ground, but at the same time, it wasn't like I was some white-trash guy in a trailer who won the lottery or something. I look back on the last twenty years of my life, and there were some really dark moments, you know? Sitting in front of the mirror in some dingy apartment, stoned off my ass, broke as can be, feeling completely alone in the world, staring into my own eyes and just wanting to die. Realizing that you didn't win any awards for coming out at 18. It didn't give you any better insight on how to live your life, how to make something of yourself when you've got no one backing you up."

"Well," Dane said, with his usual restraining aplomb in such moments with Kevin. "That was a very long time ago. I would guess you'd be at peace with it now."

That shut him up, but only to think about it some more. No, he wasn't really at peace with it. It wasn't an exhausting state to be in, though. Not like when he was, say, 25 or 26 years-old, and all the usual unresolved anger and resentments of childhood where still whirling around in his head day and night, and he was in no way a truly defined person yet.

But just a few dinners ago -- the one in New York only four nights earlier, with his parents and Dane -- there it was again. Kevin couldn't be more content with the life he'd made for himself today, and was never more sure of who he was. But sitting there with his parents at Orso, there was a pang in his stomach that maybe this was Ghetto Syndrome. Only in the echo chamber of Logan Circle, and the life he'd orchestrated for himself there, would he achieve this feeling of contentment and self-definition. And beyond the pink-picket fence of 20005 he was just a nerdy gay kid who was afraid of the world, whose parents never understood him, and who garnered more contempt for being who he was rather than admiration, no matter how much money he earned or how much good work he'd accomplish.

How despite his middle-class aspirations for love and happiness, he'd never be married. And even if he and Dane decided to fly to Massachusetts or Canada, it still wouldn't be a real wedding despite the official parchment. Kevin's family would never turn out like they did for his sister's wedding. It would never happen in the church were he received his first Communion, and swore to reject Satan, and delivered a tearful eulogy for his grandfather.

He thought about the various affairs he'd had across the border in Brazil over the years, and the hardships that were part of everyday life there as a gay man.

Maybe life isn't so Stephen Covey, all win-win for the ones smart enough to make it happen. Maybe the critics are right - maybe it was naive to believe a win-win philosophy in a win-lose world. Traveling as they did, Kevin certainly could see how lucky he was to live in a country where, unlike about 90% of the rest of the planet, people weren't murdered by the state for their beliefs or starving to death like human garbage on the side of the road.

"What are you thinking about?" Dane asked.

Kevin leaned back, looking out at nothing in particular.

"The absurd lengths to which we can go in our heads sometimes. What else?"

Matt slept in on Thanksgiving morning. He couldn't remember the last time he had watched the Macy's Parade live on TV, but it sure wasn't going to be this year, especially now that he was in California. Michelle was already making breakfast: pancakes with sausage, fruit and juice. Matt knew he would have to fall off the carb wagon, at least for one weekend.

After breakfast, Matt, his sister and brother-in-law went for a five-mile walk on a trail around a local reservoir. It was an ideal day in beautiful surroundings. Matt was full of energy and bounded up even the steepest hills, pausing to let the others catch up. He snapped pictures on his camera-phone, wishing that he had something that could capture the true beauty in higher resolution. He took pictures of a full rainbow over the reservoir, chuckling to himself at what the gay gods must have been trying to say. He tried to get close enough to a turkey vulture to take a photo, but it flew off too soon. Matt's brother-in-law said he could probably get a very good shot if he lay very still on the ground, and maybe twitched a little. Matt laughed to himself -- a few dozen miles to the east of where he stood, people were certainly saying the same things with guns in their hands.

The hike was the perfect bridge from breakfast to the big turkey dinner that awaited them later at Michelle's friends' house. Matt could hardly wait, not just for the food, but to see their house: He had been told that the atrium entry-way alone was roughly three times the size of his Logan Circle condo. Ah, yes, he remembered what it was like living in the West, and an old song played in his head.

[Posted: November 26, 2004] PERMALINK