Back in June of 1990, my ex, whom I shall refer to as Satan (although he isn't truly evil, just severly manipulative), turned 30 and decided he needed some space to find himself. Being me, I gave him that space. After a few months he found himself, in that he'd rather be 20 again; and that space I gave him, well, I was no longer included in it, but plenty of other young men were. So after 6 years, 6 months and some days (6, I like to think), he called our relationship quits, though we still had to share the same 4 room apartment and "we could still be friends". I did the only sensible thing; I took a vacation. Fortunately an acquaintance of mine (Allen) worked at a travel agency in San Diego and clued me in on a deal on airline tickets to San Diego - $280 round trip if purchased them by midnight the next night. I did and the next week I'm off to sunny San Diego, a place where I could leave my problems behind and not do any thinking - or much of anything else as I had no money. Well, you get what you pay for and the entire vacation could have been a disaster if it wasn't for Tory.
Tory was a friend of Allen's and Matt's, on whose boat I was staying on the SD harbor, and was on leave from the Navy. Well, he had money to burn and needed some one to pal around with; I had no money and needed someone to show me the sights and we both had wickedly sarcastic senses of humor. And since Allen and Matt were either working or arguing, Tory and I spent a lot of time together. Did we have sex, I hear you thinking. No, but one night we could have; he was cold and asked me to hold him tight. He was ready and I was ready, but I respected him too much as a friend to mess that up, so we fell asleep with me just holding him. Ironic, yes? Tory was looking for love, someone to settle down with and I wasn't Tory's type. And I was just looking for a friend and wasn't going to rebound with anyone. That trip to San Diego was very educational, spending time with myself and the places Tory took me (Black's Beach, the Hole, following Linda Venturi's gigs at the various cabarets, etc.) Well, then I had to fly back home and return to my life. Satan and Green Hair picked me up at the airport and it's back to the apartment. You see Satan had (and still did the last time I saw him) this wild idea that even though he has terminated our relationship, we can all be close friends; and though I can't tell him who he should date or discuss the consequences of his choices, he can still tell me how to live my life and such. The day or so after I get back, he's telling me how I should feel about all of this, and that's when I lost all my vacation pictures (and my camera). My only regret for that year - and I missed Satan completely as the camera and film shattered on the front door.
Afterwards we didn't see much of each other (probably for the best as Satan was still on the "we can still be good friends and all get along" kick) and I decided back in San Diego that I was going to go at least 6 months before even looking for another man to fall in love with. This decision was reinforced when one of my coworkers, Marilyn, and her sister decided to fix me up with a friend of theirs. My first blind date! I was excited. I did things to make sure that it would go well; I got a haircut; I bought a new outfit; I bought flowers (yellow roses). The time came and I was ready and then I was stood up. Fortunately, at this same time, my boss' nephew moved down from Washington DC and we got along. Now I had somebody to talk to, do things with and someplace to go when Satan and Green Hair (or whomever else it was that week) were monopolizing the apartment. André and I had numerous adventures that autumn and winter, including seeing the fall foliage on Skyline Drive, me being handcuffed to a chair as a prop in a strip show, usw. Also at this time I took a second job Friday and Saturday nights, as I needed the money and needed someplace else to be. I had no social life to begin with, why torture myself staying home on the weekends too. So when I wasn't working, I hung out with André
The Style Magazine is a weekly tabloid highlighting the arts and cultural events in the Richmond area. It serves as an alternative to the highly conservative (and at time rabidly right-wing) Richmond Times-Dispatch. It also has a large section of personal ads and included same sex ads. In fact I first met André while reading the Style magazine at lunch at work. André offered a "translation" of an advert. Anyway, it was a weekly event to read the personal ads and try to find the oddest and most off the wall.
After my 32nd birthday, André suggested that we both place ads in the Style magazine and see what happens. I'm past my 6 month moratorium at this point and say sure, why not. I had gotten a post office box by this time to make sure Satan wasn't tampering with my mail as he had once or twice before. So I thought up a clever advert and went down to the Style Magazine and placed it for publication Feb 5, 1991. They were having a Valentine's Day sale so it ran the next week also at no additional cost. I wish I had kept a copy of the ad, because people still ask me what it said. On Thurs. Feb 7, I had my first replies in my post office box. One was from Jim and contained his phone number. One of the others was from a "soon-to-be-divorced" man which went promptly into the trash - my ad had specified single, between 25 and 35, and gay. So I nervously called the number on Jim's letter, got an answering machine with the theme to Twin Peaks on it, and hung up. I really detested answering machines back then as my brain would freeze as I tried to think of some message to leave that wouldn't make me sound idiotic. So between the brain freeze and the anxiety of talking to a stranger, I could only hang up. An hour later I tried again, got the answering machine, and hung up. By 9:30 or so I'm a nervous wreck and steel myself for one more attempt. I dialed and Jim answered. Fortunately, I did not hang up and instead we talked. We talked for an hour. We found out that we had a lot of things in common (some of which were true, others were exaggerations) and made a date for Friday dinner at Ruby Tuesday's, a restaurant in Willow Lawn, a public place, and I would be in between jobs (I was still working my second job) so if things went horribly wrong, I had my escape planned. Jim was (still is) adorable, with a twinkle in his eye and an indescribable grin. We had dinner and talked. We walked around the mall and talked. I had to go to work and gave him every number I could be reached at.
That night at work I was nervous, scatterbrained and worried. Would I ever hear from him? Did he like me? Is this the one? Should I put all of my eggs in one basket? What happens next? What about some of the other responses to the ad? I did correspond to one other response, but after a few letters (no phone number) he seemed to be either playing games or in the scared, confused stage of coming out. Needless to say, I didn't need anymore emotional stress than what I was getting or already had had. Saturday came and went with more replies to the ad from divorced fathers "who never done this before" (yeah, sure) or married men wanting some "manly contact while the wife was busy" (not getting into that mess), but no call from Jim. He must have had a bad time Friday, did I come on too strong? too desperate? too weird? Sunday rolled around and that afternoon Jim called to see if I was busy that night and if not, did I want to come over to his apartment for dinner? Did I? You bet. I showered, shaved and stopped at the Safeway for some flowers. I got to his apartment and he seemed surprised to see the flowers. We sat and talked. The sun went down and in the darkening room we sat and talked. We talked some more and when the time was right we kissed. And in the darkness we murmured and kissed some more. We never did have dinner that night, but that night went on and on. That was Feb. 10, 1991, which Jim and I consider to be our anniversary. We dated throughout February and March; André met Jim and thought we were moving too fast. And by April Satan, who disliked André and really didn't like Jim (something about me having happiness without his approval, I think) decided that he was moving to Church Hill with some "friends" and I needed to find a place, so I moved in with Jim on May 1, 1991.
Since then we've had our ups and downs, which is how we grow our relationship. We've met each others families and we're still together. We've purchased major appliances, pieces of furniture, and built a house, and we're still together. We've met each others friends and co-workers and we're still together. We've traveled and we're still together. We bought a new house and moved and we're still together. We don't have a lot of the same viewpoints or ancillary interests, but we're still together using our differences to strengthen ourselves.
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