My very first Rick in a Series of Many

When I was 13 years old my best friend was as smart as a doorhandle. Her name was Debbie and she was very pretty. All the boys liked her. I hung out with her because - she was a pretty dorky stupid girl and I could easily make her laugh. And I got to hang with the boys.

She had a party one night - her parents were out and we played Styx over and over and over again.

"Babe I'm leaving, must be on my way...."

It was at that party that Debbie made out with THE most gorgeous guy I'd ever seen - at the time anyway - Rick. Ohhh he had dark thick wavy hair that was just a bit too long. He wore braces -which was V sexy for the time and he had a tall lanky swimmers body. So cute. So nice. So into Debbie. So what? I just sat on the couch ate chips and talked to his friend Mike. Mike was uglier, fatter, shorter and just seemed annoyed by Rick.

Soon after this party, they stopped being friends. Stuff like that happens easily when you are 13. Soon after that party Debbie dumped Rick too. She found an older boy - 17 - who filled her make-out needs more completely. And soon after, Rick and I became friends, and I dumped Debbie. She was way too slow on the uptake for me. Even then I had an intollerance for those who are slow of wit.

So Rick and I started to hang out. First I used the family pool to invite him over to my house. Then he and I would hang out in his family's attic. We did 13 year old stuff - wrote poetry, shared it - listened to music - read parts of novels out loud to one another. What do you mean that's not what 13 year old girls do with their 13 year old male best friends? It was normal to us.

Rick was gay. Obviously. But he was my first gay best friend. He was sarcastic and funny and mean. He was fashionable and critical and girly. Upon reflection 25 years later, it was as if he read the manual on "gay 101" and followed the rules right from the get go.

We finished grade 8 together like siamese twins. And when we started grade 9 we were in the same class and always together...until *insert ominous dandandunnnnnn here* the twins came along!

Mark and Mike were twins. Adorable fraternal twins. Kind of awkward. Kind of goofy. The kind of guys that everyone liked. They wanted to hang with Rick and I. At first it was both. Then Mark. Then Mike. It didn't bother me, because personality wise they were just like Rick. And they liked the same things that we did. And hey.....maybe they were gay too? Of course they were.

Now, by that time I was 14 and I knew what gay was. It was boys who liked boys. Gheesh - everyone knew that. And Rick was, well, gay - like on Three's Company when Jack pretended to be gay. I was a woman of the world and accepting of all others. I was liberalism personified at an exceptionally young age. I had a gay best friend.

Until I saw it. I saw Rick and Mark making out. Kissing and groping and hands down each others pants. They stopped. Looked at me. And laughed. And then they went right back at it.

I wasn't fine. I was far from fine. What the flaming Jesis was that? I mean sure I knew - I mean I thought I knew - I'm sure I knew that boys made out with boys - and If there were no girl parts to deal with of course they would deal with boy parts - oh of course they would. Shit. Shit Shit shit shit shit.

I left the attic and sat on the front porch. Mike said - did you catch them at it again? And, having recovered my senses by that point I said "sheesh - again!" and acted like nothing happened. Cause I was a woman of the world with a gay best friend and this was just something that wasn't going to freak me out. Nope. Not me.

Then Rick and Mike started seeing each other behind Mark's back. And I had to play interloper and the whole threesome took on a life of its own. I enjoyed the intrigue - the theatre and the mayhem that ensued! Nothing is quite so fun as a bunch of boys having hissy fit girl fights about who loves who more!

And each time I saw them kissing or making out it got a little easier. Acceptance doesn't come without thought - its something that you have to work at sometimes. I saw a lot. I'm to a point now where NOTHING shocks or bothers me. I think at this point, I've seen it all.

So, Rick was my first. My first gay best friend. My first boy on boy kiss. But he wasn't the best best friend by a long shot. As a matter of fact, he turned out to be quite an asshole. He and his boyfriend told me that my first real boyfriend was gay. They insisted that he couldn't possibly be with me - big homo queer that he was. And the fuckers were right - he was. I hate that.

His boyfriend (that same one) died of AIDS in the late 90s - the two of them were together for almost 20 years. It was terribly sad. When he and I met up many years later, he hypothesized that an entire generation of people had lost their soul mates to a disease. And I was very sad for him.

We tried hanging out again - like old times - but then I discovered something. He's not very nice and I don't like him. You live you learn.

The long and winding road

When I was a kid my parents used to force my brother and I to go for endless long car rides all over hell's half acre. They just loved nothing more to sit in the damn GMC Suburban for hours on end and just "look at the colours". I hated it more than life itself.
As a matter of fact, I still hate to drive anywhere and look eagerly ahead to the star trek teleportation phase of the future.
On this particular weekend we were headed somewhere US bound - more than likely Port Huron Michigan as this was my Mom's favourite place for shopping at Target and going to the Sweden House all you can eat buffet (but I think we covered that one in an earlier blog!)
My parents piled our suitcases into the back of the giant ass 1970s suburban - this must have been about 1976 - and hurried us in to the car.
Brush your teeth! Comb your hair! Put your coat on! Tie your shoes! Get in the bloody buggery car!!!!
So we got in the car - didn't fasten our seatbelts because there were none - and headed off on the St. Clair family road trip.
When we hit London, the car had heated up to boiling and my sullen 7 year old brother was still sitting there with his coat on. I remember that coat - it was plaid with a corduroy beige collar - what a weird thing to remember.
"Take off your coat" my Mom said.
"No." my brother said.
"Take off the damned coat"
"No - I'm cold"
"You are not. Take off that coat NOW!"
And off came the coat.
Under the coat, my brother wore no shirt.
He cried and cried and insisted that my mother had told him to put his coat on but mentioned nothing about a shirt.
We ended up stopping in London at Kmart that day. And my brother got a nice new shirt. A cowboy shirt as I remember it.
Rewarded for being just that little bit dumb. But funny. Oh so funny.

Let's hear it for the boys

Tonight I was having a nice soccer-mom-type chat with one of my son's friend's Mom's and making arrangements to get my son to her son's birthday party. As we discussed the massiveness of the party, I said that my husband would drop him off because I was going away for the weekend. She said - "Are you going for work or with the girls? I go away twice a year with the girls - once skiing and once to play golf!"
My answer was slightly more complicated. So I told a version of the truth. I'm going away to visit friends in Windsor.
Truth be told, I have no "girls". As a general rule, girls don't like me and I don't like them.
From the time I was 8 years old I have almost always had friends that were boys. I tried and tried to have girlfriends but it just never stuck.
When I was around 9 I tried and tried to hang out with Lisa and Maria. But, they went to the catholic school around the corner and it just never seemed to work out. Okay - they really didn't seem to like me much and only wanted me around when they were fighting with each other or looking for a scapegoat or someone to mistreat. But, why not blame religious differences!
I then tried Debbie. While she did teach me how to melt eyeliner on the lightbulb in the bathroom so that it went on hot and stayed on - which i definitely appreciated, she was a sharp as a pillow. I couldn't then and I can't now abide by people who can't keep up.
However, I did meet Rick through Debbie. Ironically, they were dating. When they broke up, I inherited Rick and Debbie found God.
Rick and I did everything together and went everywhere in each others pockets. He was my first gay boyfriend. I found out that he was gay when he started dating the twins, Mark and Mike.
After Rick I found a plethera of boys. I seemed to trip over them everywhere I went - school, work, home - everywhere. Soon came, in no particular order: Jamie, Lindsay, Doug (I lost my virginity to Doug - LONG story for another day!), Joey, Victor, Rick, Bill, Dan, Rob, George, Steve&Levi, Dave, David, Mike, Steven, Cameron & Sandy another Rick and another Dan and looks like another Dan.
When I got married, I had a terrible time. There was a lot of pressure to have bridesmaids. My mother insisted on 4. I have my cousin Amy who I dearly love. I fought my mom something fierce. She let me have a best man instead of a maid of honour - and of course it was my bff Rick. But I had to come up with 2 girls I could tolerate.
Michelle and Denise. From work. I swear they fought with each other through the whole thing. If it hadn't been for them jockeying for Rick's attention (pick me I'm ever so much prettier!)and him refereeing, I would have killed them both.
One weekend they had to share a room and they both came to me and confided that they hadn't slept at all. Denise said she couldn't sleep for Michelle's snoring. Michelle said she didn't get a wink of sleep because Denise snored too much. Which one was asleep enough to snore?????
See now, boys are much less complicated. I stayed at Bill's place one weekend in the basement. Rick and I shared one bed and Dave stayed in the other. Dave snores so loud he wakes the dead. So, the trick is to fall asleep before Dave does then the next day mock him mercilessly. Not bitch behind his back and definitely not whine. That, my friends, is the difference between girls and boys. Bitching and whining. Its really THAT simple.
I've tried other times, with no great success to hang with girls. It never seems to work. I'm either irritated by them or bored or ostracized. Its unnnatural for me.
Michelle came to stay with me last spring for a weekend and I said something about Rick. Her response was that I had to "give up the fag hag thing" because it wasn't "working for me". What?
I've been a lot of things in my life but I don't think I ever consider myself a fag hag. Okay well I've been a date to a million weddings and Christmas parties but that was just hanging with a friend to me. I did have a gay boyfriend once. And a gay prom date. But, where do you draw the line? What makes you a hag? Self definition?
Sure, 99% of my friends are gay. All of them also have brown hair. About half are adopted and only one has living parents. Really the only other thing they have in common is me. Perhaps I am the common thread.
So, I started this blog with a purpose - but unfortunately, I am left with only a question. What's odd? - the fact that all of my friends are gay men or the theory that girls don't like me and I don't like girls? Hmmmm. And I suppose, what does it really matter?