Love At First Sight
This was written 02-07-04, but my “Precious” just got out of the hospital today. Thank God!!!

Well my “friend” and I are sadly no longer friends. It hurts, but you know about it already. We exchanged a few rude emails yesterday. He said that he owed me an “explanation”. Whatever! It almost makes me feel like we were never “friends”. Maybe we just reminded each other of our lost youth. I guess that good feeling can only last so long. Though I meant it when I thought we were “friends”, hell, I thought we were “good friends”. Honestly this hurts because I did/do genuinely care about him and his well being. Maybe he just couldn’t handle it. I don’t know. I don’t know what makes people just up and change the way he did. (Not without being locked up 24hrs later!) Ha!

But damn I’m going to miss the hell out of him. O.K. No more about him. He hates me. It really sucks, but I have drugs to keep my mind off of “it”. Do you? One thing that I will miss is that he truly inspired me. My God, look how much I’ve written in the past few months. (Though I will say I write A LOT anyway.)

I must say that I don’t think that my little blog is half bad. I actually find it funny at times. (Not as funny as PS, but how could I possibly compete with that?) To Wong Foo was just on Bravo. It reminded me of how wonderful PS is. (Not just because he’s gay/queer/a fag/butt pirate/sissy/whatever!) I know this because he’s truly my friend. He doesn’t ask anything in return, but my friendship and that’s all I ask of him. Well, the occasional beauty/fashion tips from each other and, of course, whomever has money pays the bar tab. No questions asked. The drunken bitches must look out for each other. I’m very pleased with him for finally blogging. PS has such wonderfully outrageous thoughts going on in that sarcastic, yet sexy, head of his that it would be wrong for him not to share them with the world. (He’s always shared with me, but I’m his best friend or at least I better be. You got that PS. don’t make me come to Deliverance country and kidnap your “toys”. You know I’ll do it ‘cause I’m CRAZY!!)

If you venture over to PS blog, you’ll get to know him. You’ll find that he is a 22yr old man living with the “hiv”. I’ve wanted to talk about it here, but felt that it was not my place to start the topic of conversation on my blog. Now that he’s talked about “it”, I feel that I can talk about “it” too.

PS and I met 3yrs ago when we were both drug dealers at STD hospital which was ran by the female version of Hitler. (I think that she was his great, great, great granddaughter or something.) Needless to say, the job sucked. I knew no one there and felt like an idiot because I’d never dealt drugs before. It wasn’t a place where I expected to make any life long friends, yet, any friends at all.

The first time I met PS, I knew that he was gay. (Don’t call me a fag hag. I hate that dumb ass expression.) I’ve just been fortunate enough to have been around all sorts of people my entire life. He was not wearing a hot pink tank top with a matching feathered boa while running, no skipping, around the hospital telling everyone just how FAB-OOO-LUS that they were.

He was quite the opposite. He was quiet, shy, and not the cutest dresser. (I later found out that you don’t wear your cute clothes to make IV’s.) I don’t think that he said more than five words to me in the first two weeks that I was there. It wasn’t love at first sight.

The fair/carnival/whatever was in town and a few of us from work had all decided to get together and go since we’d never gotten together after work before. (PS and I both have the mentality that we could sit and observe the redneck in his natural habitat. Another southern perk!) Let’s see, if I remember correctly, it was PS, D (your typical blonde), two or three of the of the sassiest bootylicious black girls you’ve evah met, and little ole me. We went to the late night thing because we didn’t get off from the night shift until like 10 or 11pm. I saw this as my opportunity to let PS know that I know, I’m cool with it, I liked him, and wanted us to be friends. I worked it out where PS would ride with me. (I’m lucky he’s still my friend. My driving tends to frighten people for some reason. People that don’t usually wear seatbelts click 'em and even click me in when they ride with me. “Hey, people, I’ve never been in a “real” wreck. Chill out! I’m very observant. I would nevah let you get hurt. I just like to drive my little car very fast!”)

We got there and headed straight for the beer tent. (It’s the only form of alcohol that’s available at the fair, unfortunately, but I can’t imagine a carnie handing me a dirty martini in a Dixie cup. My God!) The only problem with the beer tent was that you couldn’t leave with your beer and you had to drink up because they stopped serving at like 12 or 1am. PS, D, and I sat there for like two hours drinking as fast as we could. That’s right, drink lots of beer then go hop on the Twister. Obviously, we weren’t thinking, but it was fun. Well, we were thinking, we just had to get our drunk on.

We were leaving one of the most memorable restrooms that I’ve ever had the pleasure to stand up and pee in when we had a little encounter with one of our local rednecks. As PS, D, and I were walking around the fair, PS was in the middle holding our hands. (He was pimping considering he was with the two hottest girls there. By looking at the nasty hookas that were there, it really wasn’t saying much.) Anyway, as we walked by, some little shit that was smaller than me yells out, “Silly faggot, dicks are for chicks!” (DING! Round one!) That was what I heard in my head. I turned around to confront the little shit and PS tried to stop me. He said something like, “I get shit like that all of the time.” (Something like that?) “Not when you’re with me, you don’t!” I ran over there to this little uneducated fucker and quickly addressed his stupidity. “Are you jealous that he’s here with two good looking hotties and you’re just sitting here making fun of people as they walk by? With a bunch of guys, by the way. I don’t see ANY women around you. Maybe you’re gay. You fucking bastard!” The guy squirmed around the subject, mumbled something, he may have even apologized. I personally think he wet his pants. Oh, and his friends, they just laughed at him because they knew that he was stupid. I’m 5ft 90lbs, but if you piss me off; I’m about 10ft 300lbs and ain’t afraid of anyone or anything. (I also love to let stupid people know when they are being stupid. For some reason, it made me feel like I had balls, big ‘ens!) PS said that it was at that particular moment that he fell in love with me.

We left the fair at about 1am, I think. D needed to get home so we took her back to STD to get her car. PS and I were just not ready to call it a night. We decided to meet at a little “gay friendly” bar around the corner and have a real drink out of actual glass.

After several visits to “our little bar” after work one evening; we had “the talk”. PS ordered us another cocktail while looking more serious than usual. If you know PS, he always (well, 99% of the time) looks serious. (Unless he’s stinking drunk, but that’s another entry for another day) PS started to tell me just how glad he were that we were becoming such good friends. Of course, I was in total agreement, but concerned about where this conversation was headed. He told me that if our “friendship” were to continue that there was something that I should know about him. (Oh! My! God! He’s straight AND in love with me. No! How could you?) He then looked at me with those deep eyes that can see through you as serious as anyone has ever looked at me before. PS then told me that he was HIV positive and would totally understand if I didn’t want to be his friend anymore. (While thinking, “You little, shit; do you really think that I’m that shallow?”) I quickly grabbed him, gave him a hug, and told him that I loved him for the first time. (Now we tell each other we love each other every time we talk.) I loved him before he told me, but knowing this, him trusting me with this only made me love him more. (I could go on about PS for hours, and have, I’m a slow typist.)

That night when he told me about the “hiv”; that’s when I fell in love, real love, with him. I’ve often been told that I was like a little dog, with strong opinions, that didn’t know she was little. Maybe like a Pomeranian with the mentality of a pit bull. (A sweet one)

I’m not afraid of that shit, the “hiv”. If anything, it only made me love him more because that took guts to tell me that. It meant that he trusted me and thought enough of me to share this with me. I’m glad he did. That, my “friend”, is friendship and PS is one person that has been there and to this day is still my “friend”. Others have come and gone and that, I’m sure will continue, but I know our friendship, no, our love will never go anywhere.


*PS, I know you’re reading. You’re probably the only one that made it this far. (I didn’t realize how long it was.) I love you. I adore you. I treasure our friendship. I will never leave you. Just do the same for me, o.k.

“You and I, our love will never die.” Bee Gees

To anyone interested: I’m doing some “easy” research on HIV/AIDS to educate as many as I can, so if you’re interested, it will soon be an entry. (I don’t want to say soon because that’s like a guarantee and that pressures me and makes me feel like I HAVE to do it and I get stressed and turn into Woody Allen, but much cuter.) Just be on the look out
  ¶ 7:59 PM