We Were So Gay

Timing is everything. By the time I started going to Johnny Angel's again, Michael had set up house with Mark. I knew Mark, too, and was happy for them. They were obviously very happy together and rarely came out.

When Jay moved out of the Lamplighter Apartment shortly after we met, Steve moved in to take his place. Steve was a Bryan Station graduate--pretty, very easy going, and dumber than a rock. All were important traits for anyone living with Paul.

Jeff moved out of Lamplighter Apartments and into a downtown apartment with his new boyfriend. Jamie had moved from Louisville to Lexington to attend UK. Everyone thought Jamie looked like Robbie Benson and believed Jeff had hogtied him before anyone else even had a chance to meet him.

According to Jeff, they were deeply in love and excited about building a future together. Jeff sure gave it 100 percent. He was bound and determined to have the best relationship in the history of the world.

His idea of working on the relationship revolved around fixing Jamie. No problem, imperfection or perceived slight escaped comment. For the sake of the relationship he needled, prodded and nagged Jamie every waking hour.

Jamie drank a lot. Except for Jeff, we all did. Jeff was convinced Jamie was a raging alcoholic. The rest of us felt the constant scrutiny that came with being the object of Jeff's affection was enough to drive anyone to drink and sided with Jamie.

After Jeff moved out of Lamplighter, Paul and Steve moved to The Cloisters, too. Our gay friends came over on weekends to lay-out at the pool with us. We even had enough guys to play volleyball, gays against the straights.

We were so gay. I laugh now thinking about it. The competition was always friendly, if not intense--especially when we were winning. The teasing was good-natured and often hilarious.

We went out six nights a week. Before going out we gathered at Paul's apartment because it was closer to the laundry room and he had the best music collection. We sat around in gym shorts with our shirts on hangers and our jeans in the dryer listening to disco albums, watching MTV with the sound off, polishing our cowboy boots and getting primed for a night on the town.

It was the 80s. We took turns in the bathroom beating our hair back into fierce looks with a blow dryer and a vent brush. When you got it just right, you sprayed like crazy to laminate every hair in place. Outside you faced the wind at all times to avoid the dreaded back-draft.

At a specified time someone would run to the laundry room to fetch all the jeans from the dryer. We'd pull on piping hot jeans (Levi's, red tag, 501s though 505s were also very popular). To keep them from stretching out, we wouldn't zip or fasten them until after we'd parked and were walking to the bar.

We thought we hung the moon and that gay Lexington revolved around us. OK so we were deluded. Even so, the truth never got in the way of us having a good time.