The 80's: my Decade of Yes
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| Me and Randy in the 80's |
I spent the 80's in San Diego, CA, living and working in the Hillcrest area and training as a dancer/singer/actor. I wanted two things from life: to be a movie star; and to be in love, not necessarily in that order, but definitely connected. Those two goals motivated everything I did in those days, but little did I realize these goals were formed from my interrupted emotional development. While I am glad that I did not descend into drugs or alcohol to fill the gaps, I could have done without some of the heartbreak I experienced. And yet, forty years later, I can look upon who I was at that time with compassion, as well as nostalgia for the boy I was and the man I was to become.
Why should this be of interest to you? It shouldn't! But in writing about it, my hope is to do more than walk down Memory Lane. I hope to inspire deeper looks into how our life choices pan out over time--what part of you today was first ignited in your youth? Who were the people and places that shifted your trajectory forever? How can you think about that process, if you are older, knowing that your development is nearly complete?
Here is some of what I remember from those days...
The picture above is of me and Randy T., a cook I dated for a couple of heady weeks in the mid '80's. He was everything I wanted to be, I mean just look at him, jeezus. Everything appeared to work so easily for him, so I thought: his hair, his clothes, his body, his dick. He was perfect, while I was an evolving mess with a bad haircut, over-trimmed eyebrows, and an even worse moustache. I actually remember going to a holiday party once with Randy, and I wore tap shoes because I did not have any dress shoes. Can you fucking imagine? I did not realize the dilemma I had put myself in until we got to the party and I discovered, to my horror, that the flooring in the home was not carpet, but tile! I spent the evening walking around sounding like a cat wearing a bell. I am sure that there were guests who wondered if I were the entertainment, or crazy, or both.
But that was the 80's. It was a time when I was trying out versions of myself when there were so many to choose from. It was a time when I was exploring my sexuality while also trying not to die from having sex. It was a time when I wrestled with being a man and an artist, not knowing what that combo would look like for me. It was a time, like so many iconic decades, that will never happen again. It was a time that didn't used to be so long ago, but now feels ancient.
Some key memories:
- I remember I was not sure how to think about Boy George because he was a boy who looked like a girl, sort of. Or maybe he was a boy who looked girlish. That was new to me in the 80's. I am still not sure how to think about George. Perhaps he is not sure either.
- I remember the rumors, when Madonna first started making noise in the music world, that she was a man in drag. This was because her unflinching confidence, as a woman, was unprecedented. The gays got it faster than the straights, though. This was no Judy Garland-style victim-heroine. (Neither was Garland, by the way.) Madonna was a mean bitch who wouldn't hesitate to wield her pussy, if that's what it took, to get what she wanted.
- I remember blow-drying my hair to create "height and volume", a requirement in the 80's. My whole life I have yearned for a head of hair that did not require blow-drying for height and volume; a head of hair that had natural height and volume. I would have known what to do with that head of hair, had I had it. Currently, I have none. Randy, in the pic above, had great hair, though he still spent time blow-drying it for even more height and volume!
- I remember that Randy's sister, whose name I cannot recall, was a hostess at the café where we all worked. She was beautiful, and dressed, as we all did, like Madonna, but unlike many of us who dressed like Madonna, she actually did it well. She nearly out-Madonna-ed Madonna! She would pile her dark hair up on her head, letting it drift down with carefree purpose onto the layers of necklaces around her neck. She was a lesbian, and when I hung out with her, her girlfriend, and her hot gay brother Randy, I felt that I had entered 80's Gay Heaven. I remember thinking, "Who are these people? Where did they come from? Have they always been beautiful and cool?"
- I remember, speaking of hanging out, being with friends in person, and talking to one another, mostly about love and sex. We didn't have too many distractions then, other than love and sex, and we were happy being with one another. The kids these days don't know what they are missing out on, texting conversations from separate locations. The thing is, when you don't know what you are missing, you are usually not missing it.
- I remember how smooth and gorgeous my skin was. My arms and hands today, after years of sun exposure, are becoming my mother's: veined, spotty, and blotchy. This elicits both warm loving nostalgia for my mother's hands, and a sense of terrifying helplessness and paralyzing anxiety for my hands. You can imagine the fun bouncing back and forth! These days I stay in the shade, but every once in a while I will "sneak" just a minute of sunshine, reveling in guilty pleasure like someone smoking a forbidden cigarette in back of the garage.
- I remember being absolutely terrified of AIDS in the 80's. I turned 20 in 1982, right at the time I started to hear rumors of a "gay cancer" going around. I thought to myself, "I won't get it, I'm one of the "good" ones." But I still refrained from having sex for two whole years from 1983-1985. I remember swearing off anal sex, and not blowing another man until the late-90's. Perhaps I was not fully convinced of my "goodness". Today, I am grateful for having survived, especially since I now know that AIDS killed anyone, not just "bad" people. And I did resume anal and oral sex at one point, just in case you are wondering.
- I remember how exciting music was in the 80's. If you were not there, you have no idea. New wave started in the late 70's with The Cars, Devo, and others, but really took over rock and pop music in 1983, as I recall. The first time I discovered radio station KROQ on a drive to Los Angeles I thought I was imagining things. There was no way this music was being played on the radio, I thought to myself. The last time I was excited by new music was when I first heard Billie Eilish a couple of years ago.
- I remember working as a busboy at the Crest Cafe in San Diego, where I fell for the bad boy fry cook, Randy, pictured above, and where his gorgeous sister worked as hostess. Randy wooed me by insisting on being the only one to make me lemonade on my break, which was sweet in a way (both him and the lemonade). We got together hot and fast and were an item for a grand total of two weeks before he returned to his physically abusive ex. When we "broke up" I sobbed for an entire night. Today, I am happy to have figured out what love really is, but I am also happy to have known Randy. He died of AIDS, I heard. He was beautiful, and changed my life. And he made a damn good lemonade.
- I remember driving up to Los Angeles from San Diego with a car full of fellow dancers to take jazz dance classes at 3rd St. Dance or Debbie Reynolds Studio or Joe Tremaine's, all of which no longer exist. How we never died in the car continues to be a mystery to me, since we were a bunch of hyperactive young people acting like hyperactive young people. Those days were thrilling and vital and we all thought we would be stars. I don't think any of us became stars. But we were amazing dancers.
- I remember my young body, able to do my bidding at a moment's notice, whether that was in the dance studio or in bed with a lover. Everything worked, and everything looked good while doing it--remember those days? The future at that time was a romantic dream of love and success and great music. How do we adjust to a future that is no longer a beginning, but a descent?
