angel
if angels had kiwis
Matt Marks ( kiwi59 ) served me my first beer in a leather / bear bar sometime in the early 1990's.
I was out on one of my once-a-year outings into the gay-scene.
I'd go out... Feel completely out of place and uncomfortable - then retreat back into my shell for another year..... this was a cycle that persisted starting around the age 19 or 20... (*it was easy to slip into homo haunts in those days without an ID).
One of those nights while sitting at the end of a drag bar, the bartender came up and struck up a conversation.... "You don't look like you're having a lot of fun."
I confided that I wasn't and felt terribly out of place... and I wasn't a big fan of drag either... I mean - the Donna Summer tunes were fine - but I just really wasn't out to see guys in dresses.
The bartender told me to wait, grabbed the local rag and opened it up to the bar-guide in the back.
"Let's see - where would you like... ... (running his hands down the column of newsprint). .. ... oh here.. there's this newer place in town."
I looked down... His finger stopped on a name "The Outpost".
"sounds scary"... I said.
"It is... they play Pearl Jam..... You'll fit right in."
I smirked.. finished my beer and headed out with a hand-drawn map scribbled on a cocktail napkin in my pocket.
I found the tiny corner bar and mustered up the courage to go in.
There was all of 5 people in the place including a sawed off, putto-shaped man with blond hair and kind eyes behind the bar.
He chatted with me citing that his boyfriend was also a Webster photo major... introduced me to the lumber-jackish patrons and told me I could put some quarters in the jukebox.
I played a Pearl Jam song.
My self-identity as a gay man changed from that night forward.
Quite possibly for the first time in my life,... in ANY context... I felt like I "fit in".
I know - that seems completely contrary to my M.O. - but when you're a wee pup wrestling with your very identity - that kind of adolescent need to feel accepted is so...
christ.. it's so important.
I'd wait probably close to another year before going out again... but I knew where to go... And I'd never forget the beer keg of a guy that comforted me... within a few years I'd be an honorary lifetime member of the local bear club and damn near a bar fixture at The Outpost's happy hour.... at last... a happy self-realized homo.
I believe in guardian angels.... not the winged hybrids that float around in the ether - but full physical manifestations which by chance or supernatural design are thrown into your life path.
The first of my friends to come calling after I got news about my dad's condition was... of course... Matt. He showed up that night with a few fistfulls of hyper-dark pissy chocolate bars.... (my favorite).
Prior to him waddling through my door I was literally sitting at the kitchen table on the emotional brink contemplating the challenges ahead.
Matt just does that... he - at times seemingly from thin-air - appears when you're in trouble or need.... he's been doing it for years.
I'm so lucky and grateful for all of you... but especially my angel.
and who wouldn't be?
Who would you rather have watching your back? :
The androgens harp-playing fllutter-butt in a nightgown?
....or the little dude that looks like he can bench-press a VW.
thanks kiwi - I love you.