It started on Friday. Seattle Gay Pride weekend 2008. The beginning for me was work, putting up flyers for random rock shows and Bend It, Seattle's awesome DIY Pride alternative. As usual anger erupted inside of me at the 15 dollar cover charge the only lesbian and dyke bar in Seattle was taking from people to be able to hang out there. I wanted to stand outside the fence with a picket sign protesting the alcohol fueled destruction wrought by the beer companies and their-"we support pride" banners. But instead I downed 4 shots of espresso at Cafe Vita and started a discussion with 2 lesbians sitting at a table about how pissed off I am about alcohol fueled pride and the cost of admission to the only girl bar in town.
"Alcohol is never good for any community!" I yelled as I walked off with my usual have a nice day attitude, but really inside I wanted to cry or tear down the fences of the Wold Rose's beer "garden" of self destruction and drunk girls grabbing at my cock.
On Saturday I was suppose to get a tattoo of FDR (Franklin Delano Roosevelt) on my ass but when I made the appointment I did not realize that it was pride weekend and if I got a tattoo on my ass I could not ride my bike in the parade because of the healing process. But I decided to use the appointment time anyway to get a tattoo I had always wanted to get-the name of my one true love. I had done a series of things in an attempt to get over it, many of them painful regrets including ripped up pictures, rings thrown off of cliffs and a painting destroyed. Nothing helped. Images of my artistic partner on the phone telling me she loved me more than him. Leaving me barren and alone 120 miles east of where we use to live alone but together every second in our hearts, in our minds and sometimes in our bed.
Almost 3 years of silence after that last phone call I find her one day in New York City only to come to the awful realization that now she hated me and blamed me for all the pain created after I left her in New York City. Although she was clean and sober, I could tell that she still suffered from my many regrets and the unrequited love between us. Even her husband realized this and tried to tell her to be happy that I was back and that she needed me. But the blame, pain and anger was all too deep and too much to bear. Things fell apart really quickly. I could not deal with the pain of her hate and the lost love between us. The last thing she said to me was "I hope you OD" as I was ejected from her life. Cut to 12 years later, she is now divorced and I am still in love with her. She sent me an email 6 months ago telling me that she still has parental issues. I knew exactly what she was talking about. I guess it is hard to be Jewish and queer even at 39. Her mom does not want her to be a lesbian and really she isn't. It is only my birth in female body that enhances her queer side. She told me straight out 15 years ago that she wished I was a guy, even though she is bi-sexual, sex with a woman and being in love with a woman is two different things. If her mom supported and respected her sexuality, I imagine things would be different. The lack of acceptance her mom gives her sexuality is silently tearing her apart and actually it is killing me. She told me many times in 1993 that we were going to be together when we were older and that it was the waiting that sucked. I still hang onto these words because it has been 15 years, I still love her and I cannot find someone else to love. It feels like our karma to be together but the bridge across forever sometimes takes a long time to bring you together with your soul twin.
So it was pride weekend and finally I got her name tattooed on my arm. The pain of the needles felt awesome on my arm as the name of the love of my existence was engraved in black for everyone to see. I am happy because I finally have gay pride. I am not ashamed to love who I love anymore. She is on my mind everyday. We were going to be famous with our little public access show that put us in Sassy Magazine and was 1 rated for 6 months on MNN cable out of New York City. Since then I have not met anyone that I connect with on a creative level and it tears me apart everyday.
With her name proudly written across my arm for all time, on Sunday I decided to ride my bike and be my own float for the parade. With my blue strap on sticking out of my pants I rode proud to be a gender rebel, proud to be who I am-queer and in love with an awesome girl even if she is afraid to love me back, even if she hates me, I cannot help but love her unconditionally. I finally felt complete gay pride and self love. It was a long time coming.
I felt a few demons being destroyed as I weaved in and out of the other floats on my bike, throwing out TCM (Turner Classic Movies) stickers to the crowd. No longer am I afraid to let everyone know this mask of pain I have worn for so long. As life goes on, I will be my own float through this parade we call life on the planet Earth. Even if she is not by my side, I will forever wear this tattoo with pride.
The End.
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