This is supposed to be good for the soul
Yes, it’s true. If you were at DTPM in London this morning then you probably saw me on the dance floor shaking it to Afro Medusa. Contrary to rumours I was not shirtless nor was I waving a light stick. I’m home now. My 55 year old ass is tired but I haven’t written anything in such a long time and I need to say a few things.
First, I have two handsome great nephews. It was great getting to hold the little guys. They are so small but healthy and thriving. My sister’s face turned positively sour when I told my niece those names, Hunter and Jake, sounded like gay porn star names ... God, I loved that! Made a quick trip to the cemetery to visit BC’s grave and then caught a flight a day early to Los Angeles instead of staying longer in Houston.
Second, if you want to really surprise your boyfriend don’t tell him you’re arriving home a day earlier than planned. That way you can find a strange guy looking way too comfortable sunning himself by your pool. The boyfriend wasn’t at home at the time I need to add, but the look on his face when he walked in the door spoke volumes. Don’t read too much here. No vows were broken but let’s say our relationship has been strained. If anyone wants to buy a beautiful home in Beverly Hills next door to Angie Dickinson and down the street from Jack Nicholson call my realtor.
Third, karma is a bitch and it’s time for a confession. While the boyfriend was guilty of bad judgement, not infidelity, the same can not be said of me. No, I haven’t cheated on him. I learned my lesson years ago. You see, I was unfaithful to BC. It’s a sordid little tale but I need to tell it and the boyfriend needs to read it.
So here goes ... there are no innocents to protect except BC but the innocent and the guilty are both dead so I don’t need to change names. I alone am left to tell the story. In my garden of good and evil there has never been a more beautiful or incidious flower than Bonnie Weeks. I met Bonnie while in high school in Houston. We were both active in UIL drama competitions and later studied under Cecil Pickett. Friends of ours told each of us separately that we had to meet each other, we were made for each other. Our first meeting was electric. Never in my life have I had such a strong sense of kindred spirit. All those things you revel in discovering with a new love were just automatically understood in the first 15 minutes. In two days we were lovers and besotted with each other. When I left for the University of Texas in 1969 she stayed in Houston to go to the U of H and we decided our relationship wasn’t strong enough to survive the separation so we decided to end things.
One year later I ran into Bonnie at the Palace gay bar. She had come out of the closet and so had I. I introduced her to BC. Things seemed cordial enough. They got along. But there was still this lingering attraction between us and it did create a tension. A year later her mother died at the age of 42 of ovarian cancer. I was at her side during the whole ordeal. Later that year all of us moved to New York. I saw less and less of her after that. Bonnie started to move in bigger circles. Then in 1980 out of the blue I got a call from her.
At that time she had been a theatrical agent for a few years. I had started my first company and was enjoying a measure of success. She called to ask me to back a play she wanted to produce off Broadway, A Couple White Chicks Sitting Around Talking. She was the agent for Dorothy Lyman who had just won a daytime Emmy playing Opal Gardiner on All My Children. Lyman was to direct. I talked it over with BC and decided to do it. The play ran for over a year and was a minor hit. It opened with Susan Sarandan and Eileen Brennan in the leads. Anne Archer and Geraldine Page followed. Sarandan was even nominated for a Drama Desk Award.
During the rehearsals and the run of the show I flew to New York practically every weekend to hold hands, offer advice, and look after my investment. It was during that time Bonnie and I rekindled our romance. It was a heady time. We would leave rehearsals or the show, walk down the street and watch rehearsals of other shows like Dreamgirls. Bonnie was in a relationship with another girl at the time and I was with BC. We operated like thieves in the night. Neither one of us was honest with our partners. We hid it. I must tell you it didn’t feel good. Both of us developed an ulcer. The show ended and so did the romance. During that time I learned about Bonnie’s cocaine problem. Her share of the profits from the show went up her nose and it took threats of legal action to get my original investment returned. We didn’t talk for nearly a decade.
Then in 1989 I got another call from Bonnie. She had moved back to Houston from Los Angeles and was down on her luck. She spent the prior few years working as a gardener. Even so, she had still moved in famous circles doing the gardens of Annie Lennox and Polly Bergen among others. In the intervening years I learned many things about Bonnie. She hurt many people and caused a lot of damage. Despite this information and our bitter parting I agreed to meet her. She was never more beautiful and I am ashamed to say in just a few days we were back in bed again. It didn’t last long. But before our final break I moved her into an apartment in a building BC and I owned. I had her utilities and phone service opened in my name with the understanding she would pay the bills. In two months she moved out leaving me with several thousand dollars of bills. It was nothing new for her. It was a pattern she repeated many times with many people. It was a small price to pay to have her out of my life. She left me the book Portrait of a Marriage chronicling the marriage of bisexuals, Vita Sackville West and Harold Nicolson during that time. She had called us Vita and Harold and said we had to visit Sissinghurst Gardens at their home in England someday. How in the world you might ask was I able to do this to BC not once but twice. I don’t have a good answer. It was a serious flaw in my character that I feel utter shame admitting. I keep hearing that line from Dangerous Liaisons, “It was beyond my control … “. But that is no excuse. There is none. Five years later Bonnie died at the age of 42 of ovarian cancer just like her mother.
One spring day in London in 2001 BC and I were reading the Sunday newspapers. In the garden section of the Telegraph was a picture spread of the famous Sissinghurst Gardens. I read the article and mused out loud that he and I should go there sometime. In a second he screamed at me, “Fuck you! Fuck Sissinghurst Gardens! … And fuck her! You go there alone!” Although he had never confronted me with my infidelity he knew about it all along. Later that night he told me he had forgiven me years before but he had never forgotten. My idle mention of those gardens had hurt him enough to finally lash out. Many tears were shed that night but that was the last time we ever discussed it. I was partnered with an extraordinary man for 32 years. I did not deserve him.
I’m partnered with another good man today. He’s not perfect, I'm certainly not, but we're still together.
posted by Ray @ 5:03 AM
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