His name was Bobby. He was a little waif in a bomber jacket and black boots, two days worth of beard concealing his boyish face. And he was a snotty little bastard. I asked him to dance and he said coolly, "I'm waiting for a Diana Ross song".
And then the DJ played "Chain Reaction". I looked over him and smiled. He flashed the most beautiful smile. I had him.
I remember so much about that night at La Cage in Milwaukee twenty one years ago. His ridiculous boots, the snow flurries outside, the tiny warm lobby of his twenties brownstone building, the rickety elevator, his bright red briefs, how wonderful it felt to hold him on a chilly fall night.
I was so crazy about him. We had a wonderful winter and spring. In reality, I guess he was my first real boyfriend. Wow, hadn't really thought of that.
Our lives took us in wildly different directions. I hadn't spoken with him since I moved to California in the mid-90's. On the internet, I read that he died on September 2nd, 2008, after a long battle with HIV.
Wherever you are, Bobby, thanks for the memory.