htoruary 1.2002
wasn’t looking for love. Having a fling was
fine, but nothing long-term for me, thanks.
I
My “Forever" relationships had always
ended in ugly scenes and late-night door
slamming. Who would want that to
the end of time?
My real “Love Forever” came
disguised as your run-of-the-mill,
crotch-throbbing attraction. We’d
known each other socially for years,
hut no sparks.
Exactly one month before our
first night together, the future love
of my life interviewed me about my
trip to Gay Lobby Day on her radio
shew. 1 was nervous; she was cool,
competent, a woman in charge.
I couldn’t take my eyes off those
chubby little fingers diddling the
console knobs. During a break she
took off her headphones. “You’re
shy aren’t you?” Wonga-wonga!
Something about her seeing the
tender inner self behind my out ’n’
proud persona really got me. 1
drove away from the radio station
vowing she’d he my next fling.
Only for the sex, of course.
1 invited her to stuff envelopes at the non
profit where 1 volunteered. She had a meeting.
I asked her if she wanted to go to the Pride
rally. She was fixing her sink.
A movie? She had a dentist appointment.
Finally, one night at a potluck she
announced: “I’ve got a free pair of concert tick
ets. Anybody want to go?”
“I will!” I was too gaga to notice her
trepidation.
I tried to make a good impression in my
Spud love
H o w to Ig n o r e r e je c tio n a n d w i n t h a t v a le n t in e
last till
vintage Hawaiian shirt, a poor
choice for the chilly auditori
um’s metal seats. I scooted my
chair toward her, hoping for
some body heat. Was it my
imagination, or did she scoot
away?
I scooted again. So did she.
During the standing ovation
1 sidled closer. She stepped into
the aisle.
It was pouring rain when the
concert let out. We had to run
across the parking lot to her
truck.
I hoped she’d put her warm
arm around me or at least lay
one of those pudgy little paws
on my thigh. I wanted to con
nect, win her over, get in her
pants. When a huge RV passed Sally Sheklow
us I said, “Ah, that’s my fanta
sy—drive out to the boonies in a big camper
and have loud sex.”
Silence. She didn’t say a word for the whole
45-minute drive home.
1 made myself wait a week to call her up.
“Hi, I just harvested my potatoes. Want to
come over for dinner?”
“Sure, that sounds exciting.”
Potatoes? Exciting? This from the chair
scooter?
wouldn’t take no for an answer
Mayhe she finally ran out of excuses. Maybe
she had a thing for spuds.
We ate our haked potatoes. She was
relaxed, warm, funny. Why hadn’t I ever
noticed those huge blue eyes?
“Another potato?” 1 asked.
After dinner, we took a walk, held hands,
talked, laughed. We hugged goodnight at my
gate. Full-body press.
The next night we went to a GALA dance.
JOHN
. j
is a member of the comedy
troupe WYMPROV! and unites for Eugene
Weekly and Houston’s OutSmart magazirte
E-mail her at sally@rio.com.
S a lly S h e k lo w
2-ND-STAGE
BACK AT LAST!
IT S WHAT YOU’VE BEEN
WAITING FORI
WATERS
We made out in the car and went home to my
place.
We shared a whole year of sleepovers before
I started using the word “Love.” Even longer
before “Forever” passed my lips.
On our first six-month-a-versary, she gave
me a card asking,
“Wanna try for another
six months?” I hit the
roof. “Quit future trip
ping. Don’t lay any
expectations on me!”
The moment I
changed is hard to pin
point. Maybe it was
when my old dog died
and my sweetie stepped
up to the No. 1 loyal
companion spot.
Maybe it was weather
ing tough times with
out turning on each
other that let me relax
into love. Or maybe it
just kept being good, so
1 stayed.
After 14 years, even
1 will admit this isn’t a
fling. And the love
keeps unfolding— like one of those party-
favor balls you unravel slowly so you don’t
miss any of the little prizes tucked between
the layers. W ho wouldn’t want it to last
forever? in
C rystal ' s
G ay <3 lESbifln
C lue . Dona
SATURDAY. FEB. 9. 2002
by LARRY PARR
directed by STEPHEN ALEXANDER
y
1 '
■
Sexuality, Gender, Skin color, Age.
A life full o f discrimination
without
refrain.
„ .
w tu iu u t ie
ne
' :'T-
t Ji
V.
Alberta Hunter,
a National Treasure.
9PM -2AM
AT THE PORTLAND METRO CLUB
naughty in d ie -ra p p e r
PEACHES
Sunday, February 17
CRYSTAL BALLROOM
Portland, OR
tickets available at
TICKETMASTER
(formerly PPAA)
618 SE ALDER STREET
DflllCE T O TOUP fflVOPITE HITS
fPOM THE PAST <5 PPESETIT
$5 COVER
fu n S epvice N p
non-SM OKinG DfincE A peh
(SMOKIHG flPEfl flVflILfl&LE)
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TERRI POPE JO Y 8 CEUA LYON
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THE A L B E R T A H UNT E R S T OR
Interstate Firehouse Cultural Center 5340 North Interstate Avenue Call A R T for directions 503 241 1 ART
17