Two Worlds Back and One Forward

For a bit of background, I need to take you back, two worlds ago back in fact - to the first world before 9/11 - when the only phones that existed were landlines and being social wasn't attached to the words media or distance. It was also the world in which I came out. Where bars and gay bookstores along with some less than desirable locations were the only way you could meet another boy. HIV/AIDS was reaching its peak, (without a nationwide lockdown) and despite that unknown virus and its cause, I had to find a way to not only thrive but to excel. 

Now, having been bombarded with countless video platforms -  Zoom, FaceTime, Microsoft Teams, the list goes on - I can't remember a time when I've enjoyed technology less and yearned more for a world that no longer exists. For someone who still clings to the fact that he was the epitome of social, I've never despised social media more. It's now the age of corona, which will leave all of us living in yet another world, and being single in this in-between world has been perhaps the most gut wrenching yet strongest aspect of the whole mess. 

I never really gave being by myself a second thought. I'd made countless friends over the course of my life. Some are still with me, and some are sadly and quite unfairly, no longer here. During the height of the AIDS crisis, when the government did nothing as countless men died every day, I learned all too quickly life can be taken away. One lesson that still stings and will forever resonate was a boy named Michael whom I'd met in the first world. One day, just like that, he was gone. And, then there was the day I got a phone call from his mother. 

"Can you tell me about my son?" she asked with her voice cracking, explaining she had found my number in Michael's address book. The ache in her voice was palpable and I tried my best to describe the wonderful boy I'd come to know simply from the two of us being social every weekend. Michael and I were never destined to be boyfriends, but I'd like to think he would have been a friend to last a lifetime. I think when his mother hung up, she left with a sense of comfort from a stranger she would never meet. 

I never looked at friendships quite the same way after that. I held tight to the ones I made before and the ones following have shaped my entire life. They changed how I look at dating and what makes a friend. They showed me the world, and I've made sure that my mother has never been left in the dark. As I cautiously maneuvered those years in Boston, the virus was all around, and with the country and the state doing nothing to ease my fears, I had to find my way alone. I had no where to turn for answers, there were no web sites to google, no heads of state run departments giving you the right information. What was there were the LGBT health clinics, the Glad Day Bookstore and the people you met at the bars. All these places where people like me gathered. It was the people you surrounded yourself with who knew people that could provide the answers. 

I never consciously chose to be single, but my years before I moved to San Francisco and the time I spent in the city by the bay certainly prepared me for it. When I look back, I did everything in my power to not be alone. I was always on a date, always swept off my feet, and without fail, when one attempt came crashing down, I was back up and trying again. Perhaps if I'd succeeded, I would be just like the gays you can’t escape from in this interim world. Quarantined with their boyfriends, husbands, lovers, or whatever their labels, the posts usually consist of pictures of them hiking, making dinner, snuggling on the couch, or laughing at each other’s attempts at baking - all accompanied by such captions as: “So lucky I get to lockdown with this man,”; “No one I’d rather be quarantined with.”; and “This man makes me laugh through these trying times.”  Usually I read them with a grain of kosher salt, but as the lockdown drags on, they’re becoming increasingly hard to swallow.

I suppose I could have posted a picture of the time I cried on my couch, mourning a world that will never fully return with the caption, "so lucky to be locked down with my favorite guy. Couldn't do it without him." Somehow, the comments on that one would have been quite different. There's been no one to fall asleep with; no one to say good morning to; no one to take a walk with; no one to watch TV with; no one to...well, you get the idea. But over the course of my life's adventures, I've always had myself to fall back on, and most assuredly, that has helped me pick myself up during the low times. And, trust me, there are many days now with many lows. I knew I would survive in the old worlds, what was the choice really? To give up? That's never been in my DNA, but this stretch of time has been unlike any of the other punches to the gut. To get me through, I've been able to pull from all those times before - all those memories of the non social distancing past and the hopes that exist in the new world to come.

What's also helped has been the non-Zoom Friday night happy hours with my neighbor. They've been a bridge to the new world, and the fact that we are both gay has been an added bonus. There's no computer screen between us, we don't have to put on fake smiles. We sit on the porch, armed with very strong margaritas and enjoy a slice of the old world. She's single as well, and during a pandemic, it's freeing to talk to someone who understands exactly what that means. Our stories of our time sitting at bars are at times comforting, while at the same time sad when we realize that may never be part of the new world.

But what has to be part of the new world, at least for me, is real social interaction. I'm done with Webex and Zoom, and I'll take my chances on talking with people face to face. It's what I did in the old world. Did I trust the boy I recently met? Did I think he answered my questions truthfully? I'm as much in the game as the next person. If my gut tells me to not trust them, then that's what I'll listen to. For me, there's no other way to live. Life isn't about social media - it's about talking, flirting, or using your smile to put someone else at ease. It's showing your interest in how you hold yourself, not by spouting a laundry list of what you're into on an app profile. I mean really, phrases like "gingers to the front of the line?" What line do you see on your computer screen?  If you never leave your house, you'll never wait in line and I'm quite sure there's no line at your bedroom door. If there is, then you are in a completely different line of work than I care to fathom.

In this new world, I will, in all probability, be an even more intense version of the person I was in the old. I will, once again, find a way to thrive, and though I may have to find my way  alone, at least I'll continue to spend time with the person who's gotten me through these last few months. And in this new world, I am going to smile brighter than ever before. I'm going to cut every line and have a drink with a stranger and friend alike.

In this new world, my hope for everyone is that if someone ever asks you to tell them about their son, then you'll know exactly what to say because you've made the effort to truly know them.

And in the end, that will leave everyone with just a touch of comfort.