What kind of Guardian Dragon are you, Larkin? You say our friendship is an incredible godsend (with beloved enthusiasm, I might add), yet you otherwise ignore me, avoid me, tell me to get the fuk outta your face…and in many other ways, humiliate me in public, and bully me! I published a novel to honor your sweet friendship, and continue to write many tales which you inspire. I send them to you via snail-mail, yet not once have you ever said “thank you” for my kind letters and postcards. Nor have you sent me (via the USPS or other delivery option) any expression of friendship or appreciation of my steadfast devotion. But I admit:
You have also done and said many nice things for me, in addition to your “godsend” praise, over these same many months during which you’ve broken my heart so often I’ve lost count. I choose to respond for the most part, with patience, compassion and humor. Yet sometimes I deem it necessary to retaliate (as I did with those postcards sent to various gay bars), because I just don’t let anyone defame my character…and because I doubt you’d respect me if I did not take action now and then.
Yet I remain in complete faith that your egregious behavior serves a compassionate purpose in the long run. And which I believe is thus:
You are My Most Adored Soulmate, above and beyond even Randolph Louis Taylor. Which is nothing short of a miracle; thus your acknowledgment that our being brought together is a godsend. I thank you so much for speaking those divine words, which put wings to my troubled heart.
There are (or were, I hope with great pleading to Our Higher Self) certain end trials I must go through, before we are brought together for eternity. Some of which require you, My Exhilarating Zilla, to open old sores and rub salt in them, that they may finally heal in a proper fashion. Hence, you drop a hint now and then via a kind gesture or declaration, in between all the hurtful episodes.
And I love you for that. (More than words can truly tell, I assure you Luscious, Lovely Larkin!)
These trials are also part of a long term initiation that I foolishly presumed would end after three or four months from its inception…or at the most, five months. Boy was I in for disappointment…seeing as This Trial Of Love’s Labor has continued unto 22 months with no end in sight!
Yet I grasp your noble desire to drag me over this bed of nails as long as possible. For that is the only way to ensure eternal bliss with your chosen partner. You are My Guardian Dragon, who would not hesitate even one nanosecond to bring havoc and misery upon me, should Goddess inform you that is precisely what I need to experience in order for my soul to expand. And if you make things too easy, I’d never learn what important lessons are required to forge The Greatest Friendship Ever. A friendship that will expand well beyond our personal horizons, and eventually touch every sentient being on this wobbly little planet.
Which outcome, of course, will likewise expand respect and reverence for sexual minorities everywhere. Our tale is the greatest romance ever, and it is not between a male and a female (like Romeo & Juliet), but between two 100% gay men! And a real-live detective story to boot! So allow me to shower you now, with tremendous affection, and this promise:
I will always be here for you, Larkin, for that is Goddess’s blessing to us both. Our friendship, our being brought together, is indeed an incredible godsend!
So I saw you today, Oct. 21, approach Duboce Park around 2:30 PM as usual, walking that sweet smallish doggie that is mostly black, with a white tipped tail and one or two paws just as white. I was already awaiting you for more than 20 minutes, strutting up and down Duboce and scoring the occasional snipe. Just when I was about to give up on you, there you are with a red haversack that mimics mine, and canine in tow.
You seemed not disturbed over my presence as you crossed the street and entered the park. As for myself, I followed obliquely and settled on the grassy mound that occupied the “dogs-on-leash” section. You stood around 22 yards away, flinging the tennis ball to give your charge some exercise…and camaraderie I guess (which you’re very good at, and which I miss like a bear misses berries).
After several minutes had passed, I knew you were about to leave. Thus I stood up, brushed the newly cut grass off my Levi’s, and marched to the top of the mound. Whence I stood a distance, facing you and waiting for your sweet face to glance in my direction. And when it did, I spread my arms in a wide air hug, sending you rays of gratitude.
I did this two more times, after moving each time further away. Till I was situated at the inbound side of the Muni Metro stop.
Then the downtown-bound N Judah careened out of the tunnel to block any view of Duboce Park for a half minute or so before rumbling off. By that time, you were no longer present anywhere in the quadrangle…and which result I anticipated, knowing how clever you are in timing your disappearance from my passionate visions. You are a frustration-and-a-half, yet I comprehend the purpose of your tease, as described seven paragraphs above.
I am begging you, Larkin:
Please don’t leave me struggling alone on Christmas Day, thinking once more about Randolph, and how you don’t care enough to give me comfort on This Most Holy of Days. Bad enough that I must pass through Halloween and Thanksgiving without Your Gracious Presence!
Must Christmas also be just as dark a day?