Meant To Be in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write
- Nov. 22, 2016, 1:07 a.m.
I’ve been meaning to write, but the holidays mean that I have much less time and even less inclination. Things were kind of crawling along like they have for much of this past year. The difference is, I’m much more aware of my depression. I see the edges of it. It’s like an ocean current that crackles at the edges and I wade into the water just a little, but if I go too far I get swept into this great, dark tide.
As I was contemplating this, I noticed that Richard was in San Francisco. I thought it was really odd that he fled LA because just days before, he was sending me pictures of his fun weekend in Palm Springs. If you don’t remember too much about Richard, the last time I saw him was almost two years ago when I wrote The History Of Us. I never really wrote about the aftermath of that situation, but his boyfriend left him shortly after our tryst, and there was a certain level of distance between us that seemed much further than the 500 miles that physically separated us.
We’d never had an estranged period where we didn’t really communicate but that had suddenly happened. He had gotten a boyfriend, his first white boyfriend who was much older than him, and all I knew was that there was some tension between them almost a year ago which stemmed from a disagreement about whether or not a firearm should be present in their house. Richard was very anti-gun and seemed to be incredibly anxious about the situation. He called me one night, desperate to talk about it, which I did, but I never heard the resolution about it. Our cordial silence and disengagement resumed.
We’d send each other smily faces, like each other’s pictures on Facebook and write curt text messages to one another. It was completely unlike any other period in our long history.
But he was in San Francisco, just a few hours away.
I called him up, he was housesitting for his friend while he went away for a long weekend with his boyfriend. But that’s not all, Richard’s boyfriend dumped him the minute they got back from Palm Springs and admitted that he’d been cheating on him during the relationship. When I heard him and his story, I realized that Richard has always been like my own personal Julia Roberts or Meg Ryan. He’s the perfect hysterical rom-com heroine. I decided right then and there to go and visit him.
RJ, Richard’s friend that was going out of town, said it was okay if I stayed at the house, and even said I could emcee the club night that he usually did on the weekend (which was part of what I used to do when I was a comedian). So it was set… I was going to face my fear and go to San Francisco, not just go… I was going to DRIVE.
It took me forever and I was terrified the entire time. I hate driving, especially long distances (although, strangely, I never was bothered by driving to or around LA). When I arrived, Richard was finishing up dinner with his last ex from SF, Brien. I always liked Brien. He was a well-spoken, deeply intelligent school teacher with just enough Southern charm and wit to mean that we got along well. Out of all of Richard’s exes, he was my favorite. I figured I was interrupting a quiet moment so I left to get a drink (besides, I needed one after navigating that fucking traffic).
When I returned, Richard and I laid perpendicular to one another on the couch watching some comedy special from someone I used to know. I just felt so comfortable, so light. It was low tide.
Then we just burst. It was like a rocket. We pawed at each other and kissed hungrily. It was like I’d been kissing strangers these last two years. We went to bed together and, when we did sleep, it was the softest, warmest sleep I’ve had in years, wrapped up with him.
We got brunch, and I didn’t care that it cost me a fortune. We held hands, we kissed, we were affectionate in a way that made it seem like we were always this way. At one point, he asked, “Why did we wait so long for this?” I thought for a moment and replied, “I think we had to become who we are now while also knowing who we were then to know that we were right where we should be.” He rolled his eyes and laughed, “No, I just needed to fuck a lot of black guys to work myself up to that cock!” Then he elbowed me and ran across the street.
We got home and laid in bed all night. I missed the club night, but I really didn’t care. We made love over and over again… I never really understood the distinction between fucking and the other kind of sex, but I do now. I took a video of Richard giving me head, it was the first time I’d ever done that. He had me send it to him last night and he just replied, “I look so cute!”
The last morning, I was up early (as I always am, let the tide pull me) and snuck back in the room and took a picture of him. I think it’s possibly the most beautiful picture I’ve ever taken. I was so proud of it that I posted it on Facebook. But then, Richard’s phone started blowing up. It was the ex from LA. He was demanding to know what was happening. Apparently, since he dumped Richard and let him run off to SF, he’s been sending him apologies in the form of flowers and pizza (food is the way to Richard’s good graces). He was apparently under the impression that he and Richard were back together, and it made him embarrassed that I posted such an intimate picture.
But he started ranting and raving and saying things that were both inappropriate and nonsensical. He called the photograph pornographic (which it’s not… thank God he didn’t see the video), he called me a pedophile, and Richard bipolar for being friends with me. When Richard told me that, he expected me to get angry, but I didn’t get angry, I got incredibly sad because I saw what kind of life Richard has had for these last couple of years.
I weekend calmed down, and I left with a heavy heart, but I felt more full than I’ve felt in a long time. Richard has vowed to return to San Francisco to get away from the things that have hurt him in LA, and I have vowed to return to LA to get away from the things that have hurt me in NorCal. We’re always two ships passing in the night, but I have faith that one day it’ll work out because I just feel like we’re meant to be.
Isn’t he beautiful?
Fawkes Gal ⋅ November 22, 2016
He is. What a lovely moment you captured.