My First Pride

Ah  - June - the month when rainbow flags are more prominent that ever and "Happy Pride" rolls of the tongue to everyone you meet in West Hollywood. While I think it's a wonderful thing to be out and proud - for me, I was more than happy to spend the weekend away from the festivities taking place at the bottom of the hill. Years ago, I remember my very first pride parade - I was a closeted young man working at Mrs. Fields' Cookies on Charles Street in Beacon Hill. Back then, the parade followed a different route and, alone as the manager of the world-famous cookie store, I watched as hundreds of gay men and women marched by the store. I was overwhelmed with customers and with one in particular.

I never knew his name, but to this day, I can remember, above anything else - his lips. Full and unbelievably sexy, I could never stop staring at him each time he came into the store. I'd give him a free cookie or even a carton of milk. I never knew his name and to this day, I wonder what he thought of this shy (yes, I was shy back then) cookie maker. I bumbled my way across the store each time he came in and my heart leaped each time without my ever knowing why.

At my first pride, he was among the crowd who stopped in the store and I watched as the throngs marched by twirling their batons and shouting out their refrains. In the end, that was the last time I saw him. I left Mrs. Fields, attended my first parade a few years later and never once ran into him again.

Flash forward to my years in San Francisco - the mother of all mammoth parades - I suppose New Yorkers would care to differ, but for over four hours, I sat on the edge of the sidewalk and watched every marcher and "act." I wouldn't miss a parade - a party - it was all new and exciting. Year after year, pride after pride - it was all exciting, until one day, it just wasn't.

Today, after years of being out, I find it amusing to watch how excited people get about pride. Maybe I'm just too jaded or maybe I've just had my fill of crowds and drunken revelry. I enjoy being away from the madness. Or maybe it's because I know I won't find my full lips boy among that crowd - and, I wonder what it would be like if it were just the two of us, prideful in a quiet setting. And, that always makes me a little bit nostalgic and, not in a bad way, just a little bit sad.