The Next Decade (Cliff Notes Version)

After getting back from Portland, I had less than two weeks to find a place to live. Not too far from my current place, I found a condo with room for rent on Kings Road in West Hollywood where I stayed at one address or another for the next four years. I continued to work in graphic arts and even tried a coporate position for a year. But with the stress it caused, I wasn't keeping my meds down and was choose health or job. Health won out.

I never forgot about Randy and it wasn't that I didn't want to visit, but I was going to wait for the fifth anniversary (2001)and head up to visit and find his sister.

Summer 2000 I returned to Florida defeated and made plans and arrangements to move back to LA one year later when two weeks before my departure my mom has a stroke.

September 11, 2001. Flying out of the question. I loved Randy, but he'd still be there for the ten year anniversary. (But I will confess to my parents giving me a few days off from nursing mom and I did go to NYC mid-November and see the aftermath. Unreal.)

(Yes, I know, ten years seems like a long time and it is. And I can't do the six or seven things. Perhaps too anal retentive (ya think?). But as aside from seeing Randy, my main purpose was to locate his sister. And they say the the decade anniversary of an event is usually when the people involved return to the scene of the crime. (so to speak.) So I figured I'd wait till then. The actual date of his death fell on a Sunday and I'm sure they'd attend a service and pay their respects. (or was hoping really hard.)

January 2002, Mom dies. Tried moving back to Los Angeles in September, didn't work out returned home and have lived here ever since. Just me and dad with the two cats.

October 2006 (see? Cliff notes) and I've got my reservations and I'm all packed and at the airport flying Southwest on a Saturday evening returning early Monday morning so I'm basically in the city for maybe day and a half with most eaten up by sleep or travel.

So at the airport the plane is about fifteen minutes late. No biggie. Then come to find out it's got a cracked windshield and their bringing in another plane. Now we're going to be 45 minutes late. Still plenty of time to make my connection in Albuqurque. New plane arrives and we are seated. Me next to window with vacant seat and then some guy who PULLS OUT A BIBLE and starts reading. Waiting, waiting.

Announcement: The captain's headset microphone isn't working and we've got to have it fixed.

Okay, still dealing. Take a Xanax. Guy's still reading his Bible. Glad he's calm.

Thirty minutes later it's fixed. We pull back from the gate and a cheer goes up from the passengers. We get about a hundred yards and completely STOP. The captain's voice comes on.

"Folks, you're not going to believe this....."

"The wing ice indicators aren't working and we can't fly without them."

(I did mention that we were flying to NEW MEXICO in FALL?)

So at this point I'm up and out of my seat the minute we pull into the gate and the door opens. Asking the flight attendant if I can de-plane. They were glad to get rid of the freaking out fag I'm sure, so up the gangway I went and to the ticket counter where I heard them making arrangements for a THIRD plane to come in as this one wasn't going anywhere and to start deplaning the passengers. Got me a full refund believe it or not from Southwest immediately.

Do you think "someone" was telling me NOT to come to Portland?

So I get in my car driving back from the airport just crying my eyes out because after so many years of waiting and talking about this day, it didn't happen.

I had let Randy down.

But as days passed, I realized that I wasn't supposed to come then. What I wanted wouldn't have happened. She wouldn't have been there. And the third plane was five and a half hours late so I would've gotten to bed at four am having to be up at seven.

And I know this for a fact because his sister told me herself when we spoke on the phone in February of this year.

Not only Cliff Notes, but Cliff Hanger...(dum, dum, dummmmmmmmm.)

Fall Sucks

So Summer came and went and Randy and I stayed in communication with phone calls. Not every night or even every few days, but at least once a week, maybe twice.

No way was I going to pressure him about anything. He needed however much time he needed to get settled and figure out his next direction. Besides, I was working and, as it turns out, starting to look for a new apartment as Suzanne had accepted a position with another company and was relocating to San Francisco. We had to be out of the complex by the end of October.

So September rolls into the first of October and Randy and I had been making plans for me to come up and visit around the middle of the month for a few days. The first of hopefully many. But during a conversation probably the end of the first week, Randy told me that he hadn't been feeling well and that perhaps it'd be best to postpone the trip until he was more suited for company.

I totally agreed and we decided that around Thanksgiving and we'd do the "Norman Rockwell", perhaps with his sister's family. As one of the things that RDP hated more than anything was for someone to make a fuss over him if he wasn't up to snuff. (He had a cold soon after we started dating and I did the vaporizer, soup, pedialite route and drove him crazy.) Jokingly I said, "well, it's for the better as I'd probably mother you to death."

As was our way, rather than say "Good-bye" we exchanged "I love yous" and hung up.

About a week later, I come bouncing the house from work and there's a message on my voice mail with a number I don't recognize, but an area code I do. T'was sitting there trying to figure it out when suddenly a cold chill corsed through my body.

It was Randy's sister, which meant...

He was gone.

My worst fear was confirmed when I returned the call. He'd passed the night before in the hospital where he'd been for the whole week. Sis by his side the entire time. Except for about thirty minutes when she taken a short break for a change of clothes or something to eat and that's when HE chose to leave.

Which is the way he wanted it and got. RDP was stubborn as a mule.

Cremation and services were being arranged. Now this was Wednesday and the Memorial was on Saturday so I immediately got on the phone with my father and told him best I could, that Randy had died and I was going to Portland. It wasn't a cheap weekend with tickets, hotel and such and God Bless 'em, he might not have understood, but he didn't say a word about it ever.

So flew up to Portland, met at the airport, taken to sis' house where I finally met the parents and once his dad figured out exactly what kind of "special friend" I was of Randy's, it was about time to leave. We stopped by his apartment for a few minutes and it was such a sweet little place. He'd done such a nice job fixing it up. Green walls with the white couches and the violin on the wall over them. Got the Warner Brothers Jacket (and a BIG bottle of Valium in the bathroom) and then a lonely night in a strange hotel room crying my eyes out.

Picked up the next morning and taken to Trinity Episcopal Church (lovely old stone gothic kinda place) where we gathered in the smaller of the two chapels. Don't remember a damn thing except the minister was a woman. I didn't stop sobbing the entire time. And I mean bite your fist, headache, burning tears of true misery and despair.

Then we went outside to the small Memorial Garden where some of his ashes were to be interred. A handful of dirt and that was it. (Oh and did I mention the crying?) I found myself on the way back to the airport hotel with the only two other friends of Randy's that bothered to come up for the service. Los Angeles isn't known for creating true friendships.

I'd never-ever see his face again, hear his voice or his laugh as long as I drew a breath. Part of me was missing. A great big hole. It hurt.

Unfortunately, due to a combination of things from shock to having to move at the end of the month, I lost all contact information with Randy's sister almost immediately after getting home.

The Kicker? I still went up the weekend of October 18th, but not for pleasure.

That Halloween would've been our two year anniversary of losing my heart to him.

I dislike October intensely.

Not enough to poison the candy we pass out mind you, but still the whole month just bites the big one.

Second Honeymoon

Well, lemme tell ya that the next few months were sheer heaven. Randy and I had what I'd been knowing in my heart we were destined to have. But I guess over the course of the seven months we were apart, we both did some maturing, realization and most importantly, compromise. As possessive as I wanted to be, us living together and spending a whole hell of a lot more time together, I knew that wasn't going to happen. Randy needed the independence and solitutde he'd had most of his life, in otherwords, space. And I was okay with that (well, maybe not as much then as now) because it made the moments we were together that much more special. How could I not give him what he asked?

"...And grateful I would be
If just one damn man would share the need,
To be alone with me."

The months passed and Randy's 34th birthday rolled around. February already? I had been working at Warner Brothers in the creative department that was designing the promotional and tie-in items for the big new movie Space Jam with Michael Jordan. And as such, we were allowed access to the lot's Commissary and of course Souvenir Shop. (It was pretty cool to see the cast of Friends milling about or sitting next to the cast of ER (minus George Clooney) or seeing Ah-nald. But we weren't allowed to approach them for that could result in immediate dismissal. It wasn't the old studio system let me tell you, not like when they'd filmed 1954's A Star is Born with Judy Garland there). But anyway, before getting sidetracked, the point was that I bought this really great suede jacket for RDP as his present.

And he was going to need it as the previous month, Randy had informed me that he'd decided at about mid-May to move back up to Portland to be near his family as Los Angeles has the ability to suck the life out of almost everyone eventually. Remembering how chilly it was standing in the garage smoking my cigarettes, I knew that he'd need something warm to protect him from the elements for the coming Fall. We went out to the movies that night and he wore it in the theatre while we sat in the dark holding hands.

Besides, I'd be coming up for visits once he settled in .

February rolls into March and my 34th arrives. Roommate Suzzane and a few friends and Randy gather at our place for an evening of pretty much nothing. In the middle of the celebration, Randy pulls me over to one corner and pulls out this little box and hands it to me. Inside was a gold bracelet. As he took it and placed around my wrist he looked into my eyes:

"This is for the ring I never got you."

Oh Sweet Jesus! Even now I can't help but tear up from remembering those words.

(For those of you who joined in late - Early on, Randy tried to give me ring. I told him, no commitment, no ring. Scroll down and start with the first post.)

I really can't describe the feeling of having everything you've ever wished for come true in an instant, except to say I hope whoever is reading these words gets to experience what I did that night in their lifetime - finding and becoming one with your soulmate. (And yes, it's the one I'm wearing in my Monroe's a'musing photo.)

So Winter turned to Spring and began turning into Summer (but in California it's so hard to tell) and the date of Randy's departure drew more near. And yet, I wasn't concerned nor worried as it was really a short plane ride up the coast and they left all the time so I'd be up and we'd at least as some semblence of normalcy, even if just for a few days at a time.

The one hard thing to do though was not be there the day his sister and family came down to gather his pack him up and leave. Randy asked this of me, and as difficult a request it was to honor, I understood why, and did. It would've been too hard on both of us, though I would've put on the bravest face until the end. But, again, I couldn't say no.

After all, I'd let him go once and he came back, so we were meant to be. No doubt in my mind there. So, our last night together I honestly don't remember, but Kylie Minoque expresses it so well in a song from her Light Years album (yes, Kylie - so shoot me)).

"Here we are in the dead of night,

Will you keep me warm and hold me tight.

All we have is until the dawn,

Let the night be long and ease the dawn.

I love you more than you'll ever know,

It hurts to see you go.

So Darling sing, me a lullaby of

Bittersweet goodbye.

Don't think about the future now.

These few hours, Let the nighttime envelop us.

Take us under Bewitching spell, bewitching spell.

Here we are in the dead of night,

Won't see you past the morning light

So Darling sing, me a lullaby of

Bittersweet goodbye.

May we meet on our way Home."

How prophetic that last line turned out to be.

It Only Takes a Moment

Great song from Hello Dolly. And from the time that Randy and I "got back together" there are so many wonderful ones. It was almost like we were dating again, but this time, a little older and a little wiser. And there was one moment imparticular that for me, is one of the best.

With Randy and I infected, it only seemed right that we go and visit the AIDS Memorial Quilt that was going to be displayed in Pasadena at the Rose Bowl. T'was a historic, yet bittersweet exhibition as there were so many rememberance panels that it had grown too large to show in this size again and this was going to be the largest and last viewing ever on the West Coast - taking up the entire floor of the Rose Bowl.

So the both of us got there and it was so, overwhelming - not only in the size, but the number of panels, the amount of people that turned out the day we were there and the range of emotions we experienced as we walked from square to square.

At one point, after wandering around finding panels for famous people like Rock Hudson and Liberace, we had stopped and were motionless, just hugging each other while gazing over the vast field of lost souls when Randy suddenly broke down and cried - sobbing "it's just too many....too many." I just stood there, my arms wrapped around his shaking frame and said nothing, I remained quiet. I can remember it as if it were yesterday.

"I held him for an instant, But my arms felt sure and strong. It only takes a moment, to be loved a whole life long..."

To me, this was the defining moment in our relationship - because up until this point, I had NEVER seen Randy cry, shed not one tear in front of me, about anything. After Randy had finally admitted to, and realized the connection between us was permanent, he allowed the last wall to come tumbling down and let me comfort the scared little boy that dwelled deep within. That he trusted me enough to show what I had seen all along inside of him and had been trying to get him to admit to, knowing that I'd love him unconditionally. But, each of us has to move at our own speed no matter what others want and this was something oh-so-well worth waiting for.

Certainly Took Ya Long Enough

Now, before I continue about Randy and I, a wee bit of backtracking is necessary. Before the two of us went up to Oregon, we joined a tanning salon in West Hollywood to get some color. Randy did, I didn't (check out the Xmas photo from previous entry). But I did become friends with the owner (Steven) as he was from Mississippi and we both had the Southern accent and upbringing so it was almost fate. And during our separation, I needed some place to hang out between jobs. So anyway, after the parental units left, I began working on the refurbishing of the Tanning Salon to an Egyptian Tomb look with faux finished walls, framed parchments and other accessories to make it fit more with it's name Aten Plus - Aton was the Egyptian Sun God, NOT a TEN Plus as some called it. (But only once.) So anyway.....

I come bouncing into the salon one late August morning and Steven, who was out front having a cigarette said to me as I was opening the door, "Guess who came in and put in an application?" and without skipping a beat, I replied back "Randy." After I guess getting over the shock of my hitting the nail right on the head "I won't hire him if you'll be uncomfortable." (Are you kidding?) "Nah, this way I'll be able to keep a closer eye on him. Just send him out after his interview is finished."

So a couple of days later I was out back in the parking garage area of the salon sponging tones of brown paint onto styrofoam insulation squares (to represent stone walls). Being a Jackson Pollock kinda guy to get the effect, I was covered head to taupe when the back door opens and out steps Randy - all dressed up (in his favorite green shirt and jeans). He looks a little thinner, but just as handsome as the day we met.

It was awkward at first... I mean, what do you say to someone you haven't spoken with in almost seven months? Aside from "Hello", the only thing I truly remember from that conversation was at some point Randy saying to me that during discussions with his therapist (what?) that he'd come to one conclusion (direct quote):

"that I've been in love with only two people in my life, and you're one of them."

BIG HUG - and then everything else is a blur. Can you blame me though?

Having someone tell you that they are IN love with you, (a huge difference than they "love" you) is one of the scariest damn things you can hear - unless you feel exactly the same way towards them, then your heart jumps up and down inside doing the "happyhappyjoyjoy" dance.

So guess where I stayed that night? (I'll give you a hint, it wasn't at home.)

Outta Sight But Never Far Away

The first couple of weeks it was tough dealing with Randy's and my "breakup". Like I said in my last post, it was a huge leap of faith for me to follow the tee shirt slogan: "If you love something let it go, it if it comes back to you, it was yours, if it doesn't, it never was."

But I also had a physical distraction to take my mind of my relationship problems - Cancer.

Karposi Sarcoma to be exact. In layman's terms, those ugly purple splothes that you saw on most dying gay men in the earlier AIDS movies. In fact it had been Randy who'd pointed out the beginnings of my first lesion several weeks before we parted. So I started a chemotherapy drip treatment (or our little weekly chemo clatch as I liked to call it) and then life got even better.

I had to find a new apartment. Our trio of roommates was breaking up and we were going our seperate ways. Actually that was a blessing in disguise for the apartment I found was in West Hollywood on the corner of Fountain and Crescent Heights. It was where the "Oleander Arms" from the 1954 A Star is Born used to stand - tres' gay locale.

And then suddenly I became a candidate for an experimental lasar surgery to try and rid myself of the ever multiplying little purple spots which, while a pain in the ass, turned out to be successful.

With all this ka-fluffle going on in my life, you'd think I wouldn't have time to even think about Randy for a second.

Oh don't be foolish. On my mind 24/7. And though I didn't contact him, I had my little spies and common friends who I would grill about how he looked and how his health was and did there appear to be anyone else in his life? And things actually got easier when he relocated from downtown to (get ready for this) three blocks from where I'd moved to. (And no, he didn't know my new address). I even saw him on the streets a few times from a distance and gut-renching as it was, I didn't say anything. (Later I was to find out that I wasn't the only one observing from a distance.)

So, while my life was very full in most areas (such as volunteering at a huge AIDS benefit where I met Liza, and marching in the Pride Parade helping carry the Medicial Marijuana Club Banner, there was still a huge hole waiting to be filled. But I had to give Randy the time and space he needed to figure out if "we" were going to ever happen. Personally, I never had much doubt (okay, some at first) but truth be told, the day I walked out on him in February, I hadn't broken up with him, we had been together all this time. We were just separated. But even though I knew it, Randy had to figure it out on his own if opening up and sharing from within for whatever amount of time you have left on earth. (Or at least I hope he would in my favor.)

The one big regret I have about us not being together that particular Summer is because that August the only time my parents ever came out to California to visit me and I would've given anything to introduce Randy to them as my partner/lover/other half. (That, and I looked so friggin' fierce - I would've dated me).

If only they'd waited a couple more weeks I could've.

continued...

Like Buttah

Our time apart became greater than our time together. And I now realize in his own way, Randy tried to explain where his head and heart were at by telling me his all-time favorite song was "Lullaby for Myself" from Babs' Superman Album. But no a copy of it in his CD collection, so I bought him one. That's it above.

As for the lyrics....

Self-contained and self-content
No promises to keep
I've got things so together
That I just can't fall asleep
Walked the night and drank the moon
Got home at half-past four,
And I knew that no-one marked my time
As I unlocked my door.

It's really lovely to discover
That you like to be alone
Not to owe your man an answer
When he gets you on the phone
Not to share a pair of porkchops
When you crave champagne and cheese
And your aim becomes to please yourself
And not to aim to please
Oh they sold me when they told me
Two can live as cheap as one
But I'm learning twice your earning
Doesn't mean it's twice the fun
If you spend each dime and all your time
On someone else's schemes
I'm not needy but I'm greedy
And I live my deepest dreams
Take an hour in the shower
Use the water while it's hot
In the tub a hand to scrub my back
Is all I haven't got.

Self-aware with self-esteem
Is selfishness a crime?
I take the day for quite a ride
And I take my own sweet time
Time to spare and time to share
And grateful I would be
If just one damn man would share the need
To be alone with me.

Now I pretty much had Randy figured out even before I'd heard the song and that was the night I gave it to him. Which also was the night that he informed me that he'd gone out and met someone who he thought he was falling in love with after an evening of conversation only. Someone, like in the song. Ouch.

I flat out told him, I have no problem with that as long as we can continue dating.

Thrust, and deflect - I wasn't giving up THAT easy.

To sum it up in a nutshell IMO, at this point in our relationship, Randy was doing everything he could to push me away so that he wouldn't fall in love (or deeper in love) with me since he was dying. What's the point? Why have two people get hurt? Or hurt worse than they already do? (Okay, so some of this I hadn't figured out quite at this time, but I had the gist of it.)

Dates were cancelled, phone calls missed or not returned until it finally got to the point that (ironically) the week after his February 11th birthday and Valentine's Day, I went over to his place on the 17th determined to have a resolution to this situation that day.

Unfortunately, that turned out to be me taking the biggest leap of faith in my life up to that point and walking out of the apartment after giving him what he wanted and calling the whole thing off. I'm not going to go into details because there even some things I won't wear on my sleeve. Suffice it to say that the walk to the elevator seemed to take twice as long as forever because I kept hoping for his door to open and hear my name called.

I wouldn't hear him speak my name again for seven months.

continued...

Lake Oswego Oregon Here we Come

As we were leaving for Oregon before Christmas, we celebrated in Randy's apartment with live decorated tree including exchanging gifts. Problem is, what do you buy your boyfriend who literally has everything and won't be needing in the future - a nice set of kitchen knives. Hey, he liked to cook. I got a framed Judy Garland record and a beautiful book on Marilyn. (Don't you dare ask who?)

The big day finally arrived and we headed to LAX and check-in. I dunno, perhaps it that we were such a cute couple, it was near the holidays or her pantyhose weren't riding up her ass, but the desk attendant gave us an upgrade to First Class. Love Reno Air (do they even still exist?). Didn't matter that it was a puddle jump from LA to Portland - once you get that little warm towel - coach is NEVER the same.

We land and get to the house and I meet the family. Now, Randy and she were THISCLOSE, Spoke nearly, if not every day. She was the first person he called in regards to meeting me in fact. And not only she, but her husband and son (Uncle Randy) were everything described and more. Peas in a pod weren't closer than the two of them. It was nice to be among such a loving family.

The only complaint is that made me (with a suppressed immune system now mind you) go outside in the COLD RAIN or in COLD GARAGE to smoke my cigs. Cruel I tell. Very Cruel. Oh how we suffer for love (btw, this is called sarcasm).

First night we went out to the movies. Pret'a Porte (so shoot me on the misspelling) which surprisingly was packed to the roof and we got two seats in the very back row which I climbed and jumped over to use the ladies room. The bitch was climbing back up. But before we got inside, he and I were discussing the upcoming Mrs. Parker and the Round Table, with me explaining who she and what it was when an elderly lady spoke up from a seat not too far from us. It turned out that she had spent her youth in England and knew many of the people we spoke of and for thirty minutes she lauded us with tales of garden parties at Buckingham Palace and what it was like before the war, Tallulah Bankhead among many. I'd have much rather stayed out there and listened to her than have suffered through twoplus hours of Robert Altman.

Day with family and then we went out to have a drink and see about scoring me some weed. No tut-tut-ing here please, it's medicinal. (Randy didn't partake as it didn't agree with his meds) so for him to do this for me was sweet. Of course, the go-go boys (who is who you went to for weed in Portland) didn't hurt the process of looking and during that searching, at some point during the evening, Randy suddenly turned to me and said,

"You know, I'll never settle down with just one person."

To quote Mrs. Braflovski from South Park: "Wha-wha-wha-WHAT?"

Let me just interject here that the world comes to a screeching halt not only for words you desire but also those you may not want to hear, and they too will embed themselves into your brain and soul. Not exactly the thing I was expecting to come out of his mouth. Let's just say that it was a quiet trip back to the house, and a sleepless night for both of us which wasn't good because I'd planned an overnight sidetrip to the small town of Roslyn, Washington where they filmed the television show Northern Exposure for us and it was a several hour drive up and over in the state.

Now, I honestly cannot remember if we discussed the issue on the trip up, but a truce had been called. I can still see the stunningly vivid and beautiful mountain scenery where the sky and water would blend together erasing the horizon. Checked into the hotel and after dinner at the diner next door played in the days old snow (which sucks for making good snowballs and angels) before some really great, well let's just the rumors about make-up sex are true (come now, we're all grown-ups).

Roslyn is a SMALL town. I mean way smaller than Bartow. Population 800 except when they came to film the series twice a year for extended periods of time. Formerly a mining town, it's main industry was tourism. EIGHT coffee houses, oodles of Northern Exposure souvenir shops and even a tour book about the town including references to the series (well duh). Ironically and unfortunately, the series ended by the next May so lord knows what happened to all that crap they had for sale. SIDE NOTE: the 's added to the wall was PAPER just taped up there - I was so disappointed.

We literally were done with the place in about four hours so we climbed back in the car and returned to Lake O and Christmas the next day. After a big restaurant breakfast we flew back to Los Angeles (again First Class but because Randy paid the upgrade, sweetheart that he was, and we held hands all the way home), located the car in the vast off-off-off-off lot parking and returned back to his place where a very crispy and dried out tree greeted us as we'd left it in the window alcove where it got so much sun, one extra day and it probably would've gone up in flames.

As it seemed our relationship was about to over the next six weeks.

New Beginnings

I went home and waited by the phone. Well, not literally, but almost. Giddy as a schoolgirl. It certainly made exploring the Wilshire "Miracle Mile" a little more fun. But one then two days went by and no call. Should I call him? Would that be too obvious? What if he didn't like me as much as I did him. Could I've read the signals wrong?

Mr. Self-Confidence of 1994, huh?

But finally on the third day he phoned and we set something up for the next night which was Friday. He gave me directions to his place downtown and with much trepidation, excitement and, ah, crap, I was nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But at least he was interested, thank God.

Got to the address and made my way to Figueroa and 3rd, past the guard in the little house (fancy-schmancy I said to myself), into the elevator and up to the 15th floor. Down a hallway that seemed to go on longer than the endless one at Disney's Haunted Mansion until I reached his door. (Seriously it was a trek from the elevators to his place - curse of the corner apartment). First date jitters overtook me as I knocked on the door, but when Randy opened it, it was as if we were standing again in the middle of Santa Monica Boulevard (or it was for me) and I felt safe.


NICE little one bedroom. Forest green living/dining room walls. White sofas with big pillows and one of the oldest portable television sets I'd seen in years opposite. But out the window was the most spectacular vision - downtown Los Angeles all lit up. So many individual office windows each shining like a star in the night sky. Spectacular. I sparked up a cig and after apologizing for the odor wafting in the apartment I leaned out the window and made the mistake of looking straight down. Vertigo anyone? Randy told me that it was okay, he like the smell of the smoke. (How sweet of you to say that you adorable, lying, little man I thought to myself.)

After a bit more small talk and such, we, well (you seriously don't expect me to tell you what happened next do you? Let's put it this way, I didn't make it back to my place for a week except for grabbing changes of clothes.) And in those five or six days, we managed to cram a six-month courtship because I immediately found out the severity of Randy's AIDS illness the next morning. (Maybe because he'd thought I'd hit the door running if knew beforehand.)

Randy was only thirty-three and had been postive then full blown for ten years when we met. He had about six T-cells and three to six months to live (according to his doctors). In fact, he'd gotten his viaticle settlement (cashing out personal life insurance early, the amount determined by length of life left - people invest in you dying before they lose money) the day we'd met. And the thing he'd made me feel in his arm? A pic line (tube running up a vein into his heart) to pump medication that he carried around in a little fanny pac he wore. Medication that he needed to live, survive, exist.

And none of that mattered, well it mattered, but it didn't. So I'd have to make some adjustments, learn to deal with certain issues and facts. Compromise. Oye. That I hadn't done in a long time. After all, my last serious relationship had ended almost seven years before with just lots of sleeping around till now (kinda kidding otherwise I wouldn't be a member of the club).

Was it easy, hell no. But for Randy, I'd do anything. And all along, it never crossed my mind about him checking out any time soon. We'd not beat this thing, but certainly make things last longer than six months, most definitely.

Now before I start getting any lectures here, Randy moved just as fast as I did, because he'd soon made plans for us to head up to Portland Oregon to visit his sister and her family. We'd gone down to Laguna Nigel to make sure I passed muster from one of his oldest friends (she took that picture of us) and one night he comes bouncing onto the couch trying to size my finger for a ring. However, being the old-fashioned girl (admittedly a trampy one) but still old-fashioned, no commitment, no ring. So we were at an impass on that for the moment which is okay cause hey, I'm meeting family. That certainly says something doesn't it?

And we kept our respective apartments though I was spending many night over at his place. Certainly much easier than having him deal with my two female roommates. He wasn't working, living off his early retirement (and being in trust account setting up, he was a smart cookie and had planned for this). However I needed to earn a living . Found an agent and was tempting in the advertising/media industry in graphic design - worked for some of the biggest ad houses and movie studios. Who knew they had agencies for that - certainly not in Florida or anywhere else I'd lived.

Our days were filled doing stupid touristy stuff since I'd never lived in LA before. (Only as far as Palm Springs for a year and then only managed to get to Hollywood once in that time.) We did the Queen Mary Tour, Huntington Museum and Gardens in Pasadena, Universal Studios, Farmers Market, Tar Pits, driving Mulholland Drive at fast speeds (he loved doing that and scaring the bejeebees out of me) when I wasn't working and I could say yea or ney to any job I wanted so life was wonderful and soon it was time for our Pacific Northwest Christmas.

Halloween 1994

How do describe the love of your life?

The one who makes you a better person, and you, him? The person you want to spend the rest of your lives together with? The guy who makes yours eyes light up when you mention his name and gives you that warm, tingling feeling all over, who can make your heart feel like it's going to burst out of your chest you love him just so God-damn much? The person who'd you give up your last breath for? Who teaches you what life is truly all about?

I'm gonna give it a try.

I first met Randy Dean Peterson on the balcony of the Holloway Motel overlooking Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood on Halloween night 1994. I had just relocated from Florida to Los Angeles and had lived at this place for previous three weeks while apartment hunting. Becoming friends with the managers, they invited me to watch the cumination of the Biggest Event in the gayest city except for Gay Pride which had started the Friday before and continued non-stop until that night (which was Monday - a friggin' work day, but the WeHos didn't care).

There was a large group of us crowded out on the balcony and then suddenly it was just him and I. And of course we 'cruised' each other. I thought to myself, he's kinda cute, but shorter and that's not on "my list" (you know which list I'm talking about - the Man of My Dreams). So when the suggestion came up that we go down and wander the Boulevard with his friend Doug as a trio, I agreed because I certainly needed to expand my social circle being the new "career girl" in town. We headed out the door and down to the street, slowly meandering our way down the crowded avenue filled with people both in and out of costumes (Doug was, Randy and I weren't) talking about just this that and the other. Our little trio ended up in front of the Pavilion's Supermarket parking lot when Randy suddenly asked me "So, are you seeing anyone?"

Oops. What the hell do I tell him? This had never come up before because since being diagnosed, I hadn't even considered the thought of ever dating someone, (plus if there was somone in FL, would I have moved?). So, kinda half-turning to him I said out of the side of my mouth "Uh, well, I was diagnosed HIV+ three years ago".

Randy turned me around and taking the soda (which I'd gotten up along the way) out of my right hand and gave it to Doug. He then proceeded to take that hand and shove it up the left sleeve of the leather jacket he was wearing until I touched something that felt like an IV and tube sticking out of his arm (more on this later). When I tried to pull back, he held forcebly my hand in place and looked up at me with the most incredible brown eyes and said

"You're not alone".

At that very moment, the world screeched to a halt and those three little words permanently drilled themselves into the very core of my soul for all eternity.

After that, nothing more NEEDED to be said, and pretty much the rest of the night was a blur. But I do remember doing the shoulder/arm knocking into the other, shy glances and smiling at each other a hell of lot more and cracking jokes at Doug's expense since was dressed as, well, none of us are to this day exactly sure what look Doug was attempting to pull off unless is was Ugly Enigma. But after Doug had "used the facilities" at the grocery store (and lemme tell ya, florescent lights make Ugly into FUGLY (and we know what that means), we started back to where they had parked since Randy was getting tired and I need to get back to my new apartment I'd found that weekend.

There we were, awkwardly standing at the intesection of Santa Monica and San Vicente Boulevards trying to say goodbye while the crowds streamed around us. When the exchanging of phone numbers came up, turns out neither of us had a working pen so I walked over to the female sheriff standing there on patrol and asked to borrow hers'. We scratched out names and numbers and then came time for I guess the "goodnight kiss".

(Now, I have to stop right here for a second and explain that I always knew that I'd know when I was in love because of the movie star kiss - the one in all the films where the guy is standing very close facing the girl and he lifts her chin with his finger and kisses her every so gently with closed mouths (per Breen Code) and romantic music would start playing and then you'd see one of her legs suddenly pop up bent at a ninety degree angle, BING! - movie star kiss.)

And since Randy would've had to stand on some apple crates (height increasers used in filming) for that to happen, the best way to describe in today's terms would be that we kissed and the camera starts circling us and we stay in focus while everyone else becomes a spinning blur. And there were no bells or music that I can remember, only silence (and it was a CROWDED street). For me, time had stopped and I didn't want this moment to end.And no, my leg didn't go BING! (but something else did).

Goodbyes were said, ways parted and I headed back towards the motel and my car just floating. Here I was in Los Angeles for only three weeks and I'd found a great townhouse share across from the County Museum on Wilshire Boulevard (actually the La Brea Tar Pits on Sixth Street, the museum was directly behind that), AND I might have just found THE one. (Screw the damn list).

Only problem is, I had just lost my heart to a dying man.