Last night I attended a lovely dinner party at the home of some new gay friends. They live in an amazingly beautiful historic Arts & Crafts home they've been restoring here in the CoD. It is one of those places that exist noplace else in the area, grand scale in the rooms, amazing architectural details ... I almost needed a private moment when they showed me the fabulous ceramic landscape in their Rookwood tile fireplace.
The dinner was an occasion to entertain a friend of theirs visiting from Cincinnati. It was a lovely group - frankly, much classier than I am. I had to make every effort to keep my lip zipped and not embarrass myself, which is harder than you could possibly imagine. Cocktails were delicious and scintillating conversation ensued as I became acquainted with the group.
Rather than drag this all out with irrelevant details, it turns out their visiting friend looked familiar. Like, very familiar. He stepped out of the room to help in the kitchen so I asked my host where he was from ... born in Dominican Republic ... raised in Puerto Rico ... college in Boston ... ding ding ding! We have a winner!
Soooooo, it turns out ... he's the first guy I ever hooked up with, sophomore year in college.
Now I know it's a small world. And this isn't even the first completely unbelievable small world thing that's happened to me. But I guess I thought maybe I'd be immune from that sort of stuff here in Detroit: Gay population 10.
Funny, and not unwelcome, but it just puts stuff in perspective a little bit. The older I get, the smaller my gay world gets. It's comforting and disturbing, all at once.