I woke up today and came to the computer. Doug was sleeping soundly and I saw no reason to wake him up just because it’s Valentine’s Day. Since I came home a few days ago, things have been OK; although he didn’t give me diamonds, write me a sonnet or even give me an “I’m sorry.” However, we’ve been talking more- more about things that really matter instead of just the day to day chatter that gets you by- Did you pick up the Rx? The car needs an oil change, etc.. We’ve actually been talking about something we’re working on to sell on ETSY, and from time to time even “feelings.” Since Doug was raised by emotionally constipated parents this is a big thing.

I made sure the first talk we had was at a restaurant. I did that to ensure that the conversation stayed low-key. (When I finally get upset about something I can get wound up when discussing it.) But we sat,  ate pizza and talked.  Since then we’ve had more talks. It’s been a good thing. It amazes me how the expectations in a relationship change over time; at least how my expectations have changed over time. When I was much younger, I always assumed that I’d need a grand gesture after a fight. Not anymore. (I guess I was just more superficial then.) Things come and go; it’s what’s there in between that matters.

A few minutes ago, Doug opened the door and came in with a Valentine’s Day trifecta- balloons, yellow tulips and a dozen Valentine cupcakes.  He definitely knows the way to my heart! I am such a foodie. (Sad but true.) FYI-  those cupcakes will be shared and eaten over the span of a few days.

I think we’re about to go to lunch then coming back to clean the house, then mop all the tile. How could anything else be more romantic than that?

Yesterday I spoke to friend in San Fransisco. I’ve known him for almost 30 years. I knew him before I met Doug. When I met Billy I had never known a gay person before. The Houston area 30 years ago wasn’t the most progressive and openly accepting of the gay lifestyle. I really didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know if he’d open the door wearing a turban and dangly earrings or what. It’s amazing how idiotic your expectations can be. When he opened the door he was just a “regular” looking guy, no fake eyelashes or exaggerated movements. He was wearing a caftan, which on him didn’t seem altogether odd. It did seem odd though that he was introduced to me as “Wanda Lamont.”

I later realized that he used that name in the phone book. If his phone rang and someone left a message for Miss Lamont he knew it was a telemarketer. If he answered the phone and they asked for her he’d come out with this horribly affected high-pitched voice and say that they had the wrong number, she didn’t have this number any more. It was actually pretty smart I decided. Over the years though he’s still Wanda to me. That’s still how he’s in my cell phone.

I met Wanda after I had just gotten out of a long-term relationship. My self-esteem was zero. We became fast friends and spent quite a lot of time together. He worked at his dad’s steel company which had a 4 day work week. I was an art director so I pretty much set my own schedule. Our partying would begin Thursday and go until Sunday afternoon. Although I had been a bartender while at UT, I never really drank much back then. Wanda liked to drink scotch and dance. It was 1978. Disco was king. I was self-conscious and needed to drink to loosen up back then before I could dance. I never really liked the taste of booze so I wanted to drink as little as possible and still get a buzz. So I drank 151 proof daiquiris on the rocks. It gets you very loose, very quickly.

There used to be a place in Houston called the OP. It stayed open until 4 am and was packed every weekend. Songs by Donna Summer, Gloria Gaynor, the Bee Gees or others would blare out at a decibel level that I’m sure I could no longer tolerate today. (Did you say something?) We’d dance and he’d spin me. We were actually quite good or so it seemed to us anyway. I was so soaked after dancing my clothes would be plastered to me with sweat. Last call was at 2am so if you stayed and danced until 4am you were in much better shape to drive home.

For Halloween that year the OP was having a costume contest. I was having trouble coming up with something creative. I saw a movie listing for the Red Bluff Drive In in Pasadena. The Red Bluff was the X-rated drive-in back then. (I never went, however I heard lots of interesting stories from their patrons.) Anyway, I saw the title of their main feature that weekend and knew what I would be- The Suburban Lust Queen. In all fairness to the producers of what I am sure is a film classic, I never saw the movie. Instead I did my own interpretation. I had an old blue satin baby- doll pj gown. I bought some fishnet stockings and put a few rips in them prior to wearing them that night. On  my head I wore a rhinestone tiara. Across my chest I wore a sash that said Suburban Lust Queen. I looked fabulous. To this day I don’t know why I didn’t win. (Perhaps it was because I wasn’t gay.)

At any rate, I still have fond memories of that night and many others with my friend Billy. He was a good friend to me and helped get me through a difficult time. I rediscovered my self-esteem that had been hiding. We traveled together on many trips and shared lots of experiences. Some I will tell you about, some not. Right after Doug and I married,  Billy moved to San Fransisco. I still see him though not as much as I’d like. We seem to get together every few years. (Of course now adventures are much more sedate.) Remembering the past can sure be fun though. More on our journeys another day…