"Do not accuse fate. Do not speak of injustice. He belonged to the solemn race of men whose lives unfold too quickly to their close." - Jean Cocteau
A personal one today.
Fifty years ago on this date, a man I loved was born. His name was Garry, and we spent almost six wonderful years together.
We met in 1991 as I was recovering from an abusive relationship that had left me emotionally scarred. He lifted me out of it with a combination of sex, travel, compassion and joie de vivre. The latter was manifest, as we knew from the outset this was not destined to be forever. The time-bomb that had cut a huge swathe through the 80s gay world was there, lurking. But we didn't let it stop us!
During those all-too-brief years, we travelled, we partied, we enjoyed. Even when all that was visibly left was a six-stone shell where a gorgeous man had been, he was indefatigable, demanding I bring brochures for far-off lands to his (hospital) bedside for our "next trip". There was to be no "next trip".
Sixteen years down the line since his death, and fourteen and a half happy years into a fabulous relationship with Tony ("Madam Arcati"), the memories always remain - not as prevalent, obviously, given time and distance. However, we always toast "absent friends" every New Year. Garry will always have a major place in my heart, and the hearts of those who met him. Happy birthday, darling.
Of course, by now the man himself would have yelled at me for being so fucking maudlin. He'd want me to carry on the party. And so, in the company of one of his favourite Hi-NRG artistes, we shall!
On this Tacky Music Monday, here's the fantabulosa Miss Marsha Raven and Catch Me (I'm Falling In Love):
It doesn't get much tackier...
