|Gay Pride – somtime in the 80’s
He was my best friend for a long time. Of all the people I lost to AIDS he was the one that hurt the most.
I met him when I joined the PCC GLSU with my first lover and promptly got dumped. He was one of the guys who picked my up and decided to teach me what being gay was all about. This lead to some wild and funny adventures. Like when he decided to show me all the Griffith Park pick up spots and was greatly hurt no one approached him. I had to point out since I was with him no one was going to come near him ’cause I defintely look like a girl even with short hair. The boobs kind of gave it away. He was so hurt.
He had a hard time with relationships and everytime he broke up with someone he would go to the baths and bring me back a pen. Used to make me crazy because I would get scared for him after they figured out what caused GRID. We really bonded over our bad taste when one of my girl friends went up stairs at a party when he was taking a nap and treid to molest him. She got dumped fast!
He worked for LA County at DPSS and was always fighting off his female co-workers who refused to believe he was gay. He was a tall, burly guy with a big laugh. I didn’t help. I worked for the Girl Scout Council down the street and always came in to get him when we went to lunch and gave him a big kiss. I always made sure I wore a dress those days.
He loved racing cars and always went to the Long Beach Gran Prix and when He finally got his dream car, a red Fiero, it was almost too late and he never really got to enjoy it. But while he did, he scared the crap out of me driving.
He used to pick me up and hug me and my back always cracked much to his amusement. He wasn’t so amused when he taught my kitten to climb up his leg when he was wearing Levis ’cause the next time he came he was wearing shorts.
He and another friend took me to the Pleasure Chest to instruct me on dildoes and sex toys once. They turned on the demonstation machine that had a lot of them and broke it. They turned them all on at once. I turned red and ran to sit in the car.
We did the AIDS walk together and he died right before the one in 90 and I had just ahd my knee rebuilt and did the first one after he died in a wheel chair. Some lovely English man named Colin pushed me the whole way and decorated my chair. Made me wave like the Queen too. I never saw him again after that.
I had my surgery in July and was forbidden to be weight bearing so I couldn’t see him before he died. I learned at his funeral. He had my picture by his bed and his family recognized me from the photo. They probably could have figured it out. I was bad at the funeral. The stupid priest didn;t know him and started the damn thing by saying, ” If Art was here to day…” To which I said loudly, “If Art was here we wouldn’t be!” I was a tad bit mad and got clubbed quietly by 2 friends who didn’t know whether to laugh or yell at me.
I miss him and honour him for his love and huge heart.
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