Page 57 - Some Dance to Remember
P. 57

Some Dance to Remember                                      27

                  Ryan had waited his whole life for this night. In long ago summers in
               the Midwest, riding in the backseat of his family’s car, he had watched men
               not even knowing why he watched how they moved, looked, groomed,
               and carried themselves. His whole boyhood had been an indescribable
               ache for what he had not then known, other than the sight of some man
               made him say to himself: “I want to be like him when I grow up.” The
               thought of touching such men never crossed his mind; the thought of
               making love to such men never entered his head; the possibility of han-
               dling an athletes’ body, stroking his rock-hard muscles, breathing in the
               sweet sweat scent of his hair lay in the vague unseen distance for him like
               a far rainbow’s end.
                  He ached for the roar of the crowd and the smell of the Coppertone.
                  Flying back from El Lay, Ryan tried to capture something beyond
               words. He wrote on the only paper available. I transcribe these essential
               words here from the back, no kidding, of unused PSA airsick bags. I
               found them stuffed in the back of his Journal. There’s an innocence here
               like Love: Round 1.

                                            10

                      Pacific Southwest Airline. Seat 5A. Window
                      8 PM Sunday, August 21, 1977
                      PSA Fit 101: HOLLYWOOD/BURBANK TO SFO

                      Kick’s red Corvette pulled into Dan’s drive. Dan met him at
                  the door. Kick entered. He was better than any man I had ever
                  seen. And I’ve seen stunners. His face alone, his body yet unseen,
                  was perfect. Desire filled me. Everything I ever wanted to do with
                  a man, to a man, or have a man do with or to me, flushed through
                  my body. My eyes, and I’m not lying to exaggerate, came, look-
                  ing at him. Never have I ever seen anyone who looked so noble,
                  handsome, classic. The light in his blue eyes showed something
                  more sensitive than I could ever have hoped for in a man of such
                  physical beauty. He had no vanity. No Attitude. He was what he
                  was. He simply walked into the room and controlled the furni-
                  ture, the radio, the breeze from the windows, everything, with
                  his Command Presence.
                      I shook his hand and sat down, knocked out by his beauty,
                  afraid I might turn him off by being taller. He and Dan stood
                  in the center of the room and talked. I sat silent. Speechless. He

                        ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
                    HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK
   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62