My sweet friend John
Reading Trickytwink's post just reminded me of what was of vital importance today: Remembering.
His name was John Souza, a beautiful petite man,very proud to be of Portugese descent and resolutely proud to be gay. I used to call him Souzie. He was a wonderful friend and a deliciously wicked dance partner. He took me to my first (of many) gay bars. He opened his home to me when I moved to the Bay Area and knew no one. On the day I turned 30 and was so depressed he was the one to tell me to get over myself and consider the alternative. I did. The irony of it all is that he is the one who never lived to see 35. He was such a joy and always and everyday so much fun, even when he was in a bad mood, he was fun. I'd like to think he is dancing his little sexy ass off up in heaven. I miss him so.
His name was John Souza, a beautiful petite man,very proud to be of Portugese descent and resolutely proud to be gay. I used to call him Souzie. He was a wonderful friend and a deliciously wicked dance partner. He took me to my first (of many) gay bars. He opened his home to me when I moved to the Bay Area and knew no one. On the day I turned 30 and was so depressed he was the one to tell me to get over myself and consider the alternative. I did. The irony of it all is that he is the one who never lived to see 35. He was such a joy and always and everyday so much fun, even when he was in a bad mood, he was fun. I'd like to think he is dancing his little sexy ass off up in heaven. I miss him so.