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Nightmare

Nightmare

Back when I was in my twenties, Nightmare was one of the words I used when I went through one of my many word phases. You know, when for some odd reason you latch on to a word and use it ad nauseum. It was usually preceded by an expletive.

I finally came out to my parents as gay in the Summer of ’79. Like they didn’t already know from the time I was 2. It wasn’t really my decision. I had left a flyer that was an ad for an upcoming drag show on the dashboard of my car. My mom saw it. So, I had to provide an explanation. It was a nightmare.

AIDS was just coming to the forefront and there was all that inchoate information and hysteria about it. My mom cried for a few days. Then, there were the where did I go wrong questions. Then after about a week it was well, let’s just not talk about it. My stepfather, Carl, suggested that I move to San Francisco. My sister was basically like, “Well, duhhhhhhh”!

So, after suspicions were finally confirmed, and everyone knew for sure – with the exception of my grandparents (because according to my mom it would just kill them) and a few other relatives – I began living a little bit more out of the closet.

That’s when the nightmare phase began.

How was work?
oh my god girlfriend it was a f*#king nightmare!

How was traffic?
oh my god girlfriend it was a f*#king nightmare!

How was your date?
oh my god girlfriend it was a f*#king nightmare!

My nightmare phase pretty much coincided with my girlfriend phase

After a while I stopped using nightmare in every other sentence (the girlfriend phase lasted for another 7 or 8 years, and ocassionally pops up in stressful, or overly-dramatic situations).

Girlfriend, that car came out of NOWHERE!

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