Harvey Milk Died Today

When I was 3 years old, I made some comment about boys marrying boys, and my mother corrected me, and said that wasn't allowed, that boys had to marry girls.

I thought it was terribly unfair. I guess I was already gay.

On this day when I was 8, in far away in a place I didn't know about, Harvey Milk was murdered as he was beginning his term as the Castro's first gay representative. And the man who shot him got off on the so-called "Twinkie Defense".

According to my mother, the reason the ERA failed to pass was because it would have made gay marriage legal. I thought that maybe in another 50 years, gay men would be allowed to marry each other. But certainly not in my lifetime.

When I was 11 I began to read about a terrible illness that 35 gay men in New York and San Francisco had died of, in Discover Magazine. They called it "AID", for Acquired Immune Deficiency. Soon, my issue of Science '81 arrived (it was way "smarter" than Discover, but not impenetrable like Scientific American), and the nightmare began to unfold. The message was clear: If I acted on my feelings, I would die horribly.

For the first time, I saw gay men on TV. They were sick. They were scared. Then they were angry. And they became powerful, even as hundreds, then thousands of them died. They would NOT be ignored.

Today, I am 42. I have HIV, yet I enjoy a normal, healthy, active life. I am legally married to the man I love most in all the world, and soon (fingers crossed) every other gay man in California will have that right restored. I cannot possibly understand the sacrifices others have made, and the work that others have done, to allow me to have this life. I am ungrateful, and I always will be, compared to the gratitude I should feel.

No human heart can feel that much gratitude. So thank you. Thank you a million times over, for your sacrifices. For your work. And for the hope and vision of a future where I can take so much for granted. And just be happy.

Happy birthday to me!

I really enjoy my birthday, and I think I'm very blessed that it's the day AFTER Valentine's day. Because all the places I'd like to go on my birthday, restaurants, bars, whatnot, are pretty much quiet the day AFTER Valentine's Day, and everyone, single AND coupled, is breathing a collective sigh of relief. Valentine's Day is just too stressful to too many people, as are most holidays. And since Valentine's Day doesn't typically involve travelling to be with family, the collective sigh of relief is immediate.

I was unable to make it to the stores yesterday until 10pm. By then, the looting of the half-price Valentin

e's Day chocolate was nearly complete. The stuffed animals were in disarray, but still there. It's as if people get caught up in the frenzy for the chocolate, grab a little stuffed gorilla, and then think "Wait. I can't eat this. What the hell do I want this for, even if it IS half price?" and toss it back into the pile. And really, who wants a little stuffed gorilla for Valentine's Day anyway? Although I suppose it COULD remind me of a few of my favorite gay porn stars.

It's not JUST the greeting card and candy companies that push this. We push it on ourselves. Driving to work I listen to the radio, and I begin to wonder why nearly EVERY SINGLE song on the radio is about romance. Lost romance, angry breakups, longing for romance... all of the the MOST STRESSFUL parts of courtship and partner selection. I've been through all that, and now I'm settled into a positive, healthy relationship where I don't feel the need to prove anything and neither does he. "Taking each other for granted" doesn't SOUND like a good thing, but I guess if you toss in the appropriate gratitude it becomes "Knowing we can count on each other". It's not full of angst. It's not as "exciting" as when we were first dating, and I'd swing from the rafters showing off my sexual prowess in order to win his heart. The truth is I didn't have to do that to win his heart, and he didn't have to impress me to win mine. We're married. We know the punchlines to each other's jokes. We know the same punchlines to life's jokes. The world around us has become in large part one giant inside joke between us. You don't hear many songs on the radio about this, maybe "She's Always a Woman to Me" by Billy Joel. But I'm dating myself.

The best relationship is one where each of you feel inspired to become a better person, and do so. It's not about fixing each other, it's about improving yourself because you want to be the man he sees when he looks at you with love. That's a tall order. And it's not romance. It's real love, the kind that makes you work hard to be better. And they don't sing about it on the radio. Which is one reason why I listen to NPR so much of the time.

I'm not dead.

It's good to be back! My birthday is tomorrow and I've decided to start some new good habits. Like shining my boots on Saturdays. And flossing. And blogging.

I think I like Groundhog Day and Valentine's Day so much because as a child, they were mini-holidays leading up to my Birthday. My mother must have done a great job of making my birthdays special, because I've be
en waiting for a lavish surprise party for the past 30 years.

My mother used to always make me a pink strawberry heart-shaped birthday cake. And she wondered why I prefer the company of men? Actually she was quick to point out that she made that for me eac

he Quik Chocolate.
h year because I ASKED her to. I had this thing for pink and sugary I guess. I loved Quik Strawberry milk. And it's recently come to my attention that it is a DIFFERENT rabbit than t
Since Quik Strawberry milk seems to be a part of MANY of my fellow sodomite's childhood, I can only conclude that the strawberry bunny was a clever weapon created by the homosexual agenda to recruit young minds. Or maybe we were just a bunch of Nancys that liked pink.

But, on a more masculine note, Daddy and I are going to the LAS VEGAS SMOKEOUT in April, not to be confused with the Great American Smokeout that has an entirely different agenda. Daddy has discovered that smoking a pipe is sexier and less expensive than smoking cigarettes. And I've always loved the smell of pipe smoke.

Las Vegas Smokeout 2012: