Monday, December 19, 2011

Ces't La Vie

Page 57


Who Knows, Who Cares for me...

“Dianne, it’s over, we cannot see each other anymore”
I begged, cried. I was devastated. But the worst was when she said she wanted to be with Anna. I tried to make her see how irresponsible this all was. Her bringing me blindly into a lifestyle that I could not manage. I know, I know, I was 33 and she was 6 years younger, but she had lived this way ALL her life. She destroyed four families and countless friendships as well as forcing me to give up my company. She was very cavalier about the whole thing.

“You need to go to my parents house and pick up the kids.“ As she turned to head for the door, me sobbing behind her.

I got in my car shaking, crying, barely able to turn the ignition, and the roads were slick as it was raining.

When I got to her parents house, my children were standing in the middle of the street!. Her mother had actually, put them on the street and locked the door. I was furious. And that was the end of the affair. You can do a lot to me, but my kids Oh NOO000oooo.

I was devastated and could not think - rationality and structure were no longer omnipresent But Debra did not give up. For years after this she would leave roses on the hood of my car, put little gifts inside when accessible, and the prerequisite love letters.

James Fowler from Curtain call Magazine could not have been happier
He moved me into one of the ARTS owned apartment as far away from Debra possible. I had a room mate, Tracy Rubio, a dancer, lesbian, and shockingly funny. She shared a room with Devo.
I worked for a while at The Houston Grande Opera. It was a different sort of boiler room. A little pompous in that we were better than the others, or we were to think, because we sold Opera. My second day there, I was seated next to a beautiful and magnetically powerful woman, Maggie. And she spied me as well. I offered to drive her home that night, and another whole new world opened for me. We jumped in my mustang, grabbed a couple of beers and drove all through the city laughing screaming and being obnoxious ending up at her house.

To this day I can see the shadows and lights, palm trees reflecting on the wall and having someone so unlike anyone I had been with. We lay hypnotized by each other’s eyes. It was so slow and calming, tender. Her fingertips dancing ever so lightly along my silhouette, as my hands held on to her arm. I was shaking.
This wasn’t Debra. A far cry.

No this was an honest sincere person. I can see her standing in her doorway, naked. Long and lean, one leg crossed over the other. She was a magical sight. And we loved each other after a time. How could we not? She and I would tear out of our room at the Wortham during the break. Construction was still going on in the theatre, and that is where we went. We knew the best places, we had a map given to us while selling to refrain from selling blind spots. One such occurrence, one of us, I don’t know which one, we seemed to both be of one voice, sang out echoing the main hall and into the lobby as we made love in the loge boxes. We also christened the marble halls and couches of the ladies powder room.

But we couldn’t quite get a meeting of the mind. We are friends to this day, I miss her up there in Canada.
But whomever she is with is a very lucky person.

Our first Friday night, Tracy and I hired a baby sitter and went to Kindred spirits. My first gay outing and I was a wreck before we even got out the door, but Tracy was wonderfully reassuring. Within 15 minutes we were in KS I mentioned to a group of women we had made friends with, that my feet were tired. The tables were more like little individual bars, most having barstools, but it was Friday and gay clubs are packed.

It is a good business to be in. Since I have returned from NH, I was surprised to find a thriving gay male club industry doing better than ever, while the very few gay women’s bars were gone. I know, why not just call them gay clubs open to men and women (which they are), but the women still want to have their own haven.

Before I could end the sentence “Oh my God, my feet are killing me…” a woman appeared with a barstool.
Her name was Cheryl Chevalier. Ironies of ironies, she went to North Shore High School with Debra. They knew each other and every time we would see Debra, (usually at clubs with Anna), Debra and Cheryl acted like Meerkats from different tribes. Circling sneering, silently threatening. Debra made it clear, she hated Cheryl and Cheryl had nothing but contempt for Debra. When she took possession of the chair, she almost started a fight because she pulled the chair out from someone else, but she paid the woman off after explaining why she needed to do this.

It is said that the Gay community on Houston is incestous as one will interplay before many mutual partners in the private community family.

There is a joke in the lesbian community

Q. What does a lesbian bring to her first date” A: a U-Haul

It’s not a joke, it’s a fact.



To be continued






Music: ELP/ C'est La Vie
If It Seems Too Goo To Be True On YouTube

Some of the names and characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an acount of actual events.  For the few who have given me permission, I thank you.   © Truth has witnesses ©DSL


©   This material is the copyright of  Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author.    All rights reserved

No comments:

Post a Comment