What my phone looked like in the wee hrs this AM, at the end of my date night. Text came in from a New Yorker chum at 7:53pm Pacific Standard Time (at which point my phone was off & in my pocket). Â He sent the same text to my beloved (his old old friend), and probably to everyone in his damn phone (hi, Joseph! I KNOW you’re dancing your ASS off RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE).
And here’s what my inbox looked like:
I’d have images of immediate elation to share, rather than elation media-ated, if our date night was in the Castro. (I know! shocking that we weren’t! That’s what decades of being out and nearly 17 years together will do for ya! Sometimes you just go to a Sondheim show your partner’s music director did in a refurbished movie house that you watched all those Erroll Flynn movies in as a kid, 4.5 whole miles from the Castro in a totally straight part of town! Go figure!)
No analysis or commentary here tonight, though. Just a big wide smile for all the hard work folks done did out there. You deserve all the relief and joy you’re feeling. Happy Pride.