For the last several months, I’ve been chatting on line with Marc in Palm Springs. He’s been interested in my writing. We’re exchanged stories of men we’re having sex with, but we haven’t talked about it. He’s close to my age, so we share fond memories of San Francisco.
After knowing him several months I looked at his profile and saw a photograph from Playgirl Magazine. I was 40 when I saw it and assumed he was straight. We were faced with an unknown disease, and I idolized him as impossibly healthy and beautiful. Seeing that picture twenty years later brought back feelings of wonder and a time when we needed a beautiful world.
I grew up feeling awkward and unlikeable. It never occurred to me that someone so untouchable would become my friend. Yet at 66 he writes me every day. Fate plays with us; sometimes I’m the lucky one.