I said that love can make you stupid. Sex can make you even more stupid. There’s no question about that. I was going along my merry way, thoroughly enjoying my coming out party (it went on for three years, I have to tell you), and then something happened. It started at a gay bar called Darts, as I recall. I know the original Darts was, of course, on Dartmouth Street in Boston, and I believe it was in the site that Paparazzi eventually took.

I met Greg there after work one night. I can’t remember for sure who else came. I’m sure Joe must have come after work, maybe Steve, but I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that two of Greg’s lesbian friends, we’ll call them Lucia and Sal, were there. Yes, they were a couple. I can’t remember exactly how Greg met them. Maybe it was from work. Not sure. Anyway, we were sitting at a table having drinks when Lucia started running her foot up my leg. Of course, at first, I’m thinking it was unintentional and the result of shifting positions.

No such luck. When I moved my leg away, she looked at me as if to tell me she was disappointed. Greg and Sal were busy talking away about something (that’s why I think Greg knew Sal from work), so I obliged Lucia. Lucia was older than me, and I’m not sure by how many years. I think I must have been about 25 or 26 at the time. She was from Honduras, very sexy and very mysterious. While she was rubbing her foot up my leg, we were making small talk. This remained a flirting situation until the night I went to a party at Greg’s place in Allston.

On that fateful night, I chose to bring a bottle of Pernod. Looking back, I have absolutely no idea why I chose to drink that vile greenish liquid on that particular night. Now, this is not the new Pernod Absinthe that is coming out. This was the Pernod anise liqueur. A couple of shots would have sufficed, but it turned into a party of shots with three or four people participating (someone even went so far as to suggest someone go down the end of the street for another bottle). As I recall, we were drinking something else in between the Pernod shots. That’s not a good situation for me. I’m always up for the challenge. So, here’s where we ended up with this one:

The last thing I remember is swallowing a shot. The next thing I remember is waking up the next morning — at Jehova only knows what time — in one of Greg’s bedrooms with Lucia in bed next to me. She was smiling. It must have been fun. I don’t remember what sound must have come out of my mouth, but I am sure it was a real W-T-F moment. Because did Sal come to the party? Was she there? Do you know that I have no freakin’ idea to this day. Can’t remember. But I do know that the liaison did not end there.

I’m going to interject here because Greg was just so funny. I cannot put this incident in at the precise moment it happened but at some point, he got himself involved in this thing I was having. Greg was younger than me, but he was like a big brother. He was worried that I was becoming ‘emotionally involved’ with Lucia and it was just a fling for her. So, I remember that he asked Lucia just what her intentions were with me. I do not know what she said to him, but I remember that the fling continued on.

Let’s fast forward to the next snippet. We were sitting in someone’s apartment. I know it was not Greg and Jack’s apartment, because I can picture the room we were sitting in. It was on a second or third floor and it had all white walls with big windows minus curtains. It was beautifully sunny outside and the sun was just pouring into the room. I believe we were in Coolidge Corner, and I have a feeling it was probably Lucia and Sal’s place. I was on the sofa and I was on the end. There were two people next to me. Jack was on my immediate right, Sal was next to him and then Lucia was on the other end of the sofa.  Greg was on the other side of the room in a chair. That I can remember.

I can’t remember what the subject was. I can’t remember who was talking, but we were all having drinks and talking away. I had my right arm spread out across the back of the sofa so that it went behind Jack and part of the way behind Val. That’s when Lucia decided to put her arm across the back of the sofa and start playing with my hand. Okay, so here I am, with my hand right behind Sal, and Lucia — her lover — is diddling with my fingers. I froze. I wanted to move my arm away, but I froze. Then, I looked at Greg. I mean he was looking at it and he was freaking out. Quietly, of course. It was at the moment I saw his face that I just wanted to burst out laughing, but I managed to control myself.

At the beginning, I figured Sal had no clue what was going on. However, by the time I got to the arm across the sofa incident, I had to believe that she knew. She was absolutely not a stupid person. Far from it. I’m thinking that this was probably a pattern for Lucia, and Sal had been subjected to this stuff before. Greg had also been working on me, not from a guilt perspective, but because he thought I was getting involved and he knew Lucia wasn’t about to leave Sal to be with me. That, combined with how bad I suddenly felt for Sal, was one of the reasons it ended.

I know that I spent one day with Lucia somewhere in this mix. I picked her up somewhere and we spent the day hanging out. I don’t think the opportunity for sex presented itself again. It certainly didn’t on that day, and I’m thinking that was the day we mutually ended it. Lucia and Sal stopped hanging out with us. I’m not sure if Greg stopped inviting them, or if Sal finally put her foot down. As I recall, our parties continued on unabated.

As one of my lesbian friends would put it, albeit most graphically, “We have places to go and people to…” Well, nevermind. You get the idea.