Pushing the Envelope

Last week was one of those weeks when everything went wrong.  Don’t we all know the feeling? Plus, it was the third anniversary of Lee’s death. So it was with some trepidation that I contemplated Sunday.  I’d had plans for some time to have lunch in the city and then attend one of the GLBT film festival films with old friends.  We picked out the Popp Twins anthology, which turned out to be marvelous. It was totally upbeat, which was exactly what I needed.

Should I take the truck or the new car?  Parking in the Castro is always challenging, but I decided to drive the new Miss Pearlie, and allow thirty minutes for parking, which is exactly what it took.  Yeah! My friends and I had a great lunch at the Bagdad café, and began ambling up Market to the Castro theatre, where the line already stretched a block.  I began to relax. The sunshine was mood lifting, and the whole atmosphere was entrancing, as we passed various shops, exuding exotic fragrances, and toting unusual goods, like crystals.  Gay Pride Week was starting the next day, and everywhere strollers seemed to be breathing deeper and calmer.  Just before passing Gold’s Gym, I looked up in wonderment to see three young gay men, strolling arm and arm.  Their skins were lightly tanned, and their smiles stretched from ear to ear.  They looked sweet. They were not being flamboyant or obnoxious in any way, so I did a double take as I glanced downward and observed that all three wore not a stitch, except sandals and penis rings. I stared, even as I tried not to, as they turned into the gym, still arm and arm.  My impulse was to follow them, but I squelched that.  No one seemed to be paying any attention.  I nudged my companions. “Only in San Francisco”, I quipped, and “only in the Castro.” Gay Pride Week doesn’t start till tomorrow, I observed. Isn’t this pushing the envelope? Something about the encounter felt wonderful, normal, and healing. A smiling memory for the end of my incredibly difficult week.