March 20th, 1976

Yesterday Bobby picked me up at work at 1:00 PM and we went to Mr. Henry’s in Georgetown, ostensibly for lunch. His friend Dan was there and I sat until 2:00 drinking with them. I was having such a good time that I promised them I would go back to the office, make an excuse and leave for the day. As it happened, a fairly good excuse materialized. As I was getting out of the taxi at Woodies a bicycle was passing on the right of the car and as I opened my door it hit the man on the bike. No one was hurt, but the man claimed his bicycle was damaged. The taxi driver became very defensive and seemed to assume responsibility. They stopped a police car and the police said that if the damage was under $100 that it was not a police matter.

Anyway, I went roaring back into the office with this high drama– knowing that Bobby would be calling me at 3:30. When he did call, I pretended as though it was a call from the police station and that they wanted me to come in to sign a report. And I left.

It’s amazing to be out with Bobby. He seems to know everyone in the bars, on the streets. Bobby was lovers for three years with the manager and co-owner of the Lost and Found. During that time he worked as a bartender there at nights. Consequently, he is on a first-name basis with thousands of people and knows a little gossip about each of them it seems.

I met Bobby a week ago at the baths. Sex was nice and we’ve been together practically this entire week. Several things are happening. Mainly, Bobby is probably the most affectionate, loving, generous, attentive people I have ever been with. And he likes me. He seems to adore me. He is always looking at me, touching me, waiting on me– it is good emotionally to be around him.

Also, Bobby is a very gregarious, social person. His lifestyle is so opposite to my own. But I realize in many ways that it is precisely what I am seeking in my own life. Bobby is always cheerful and active and moving and doing. He is at the bar every night and if he doesn’t show up everyone wonders where Bobby is.

I remember the first time I walked into a gay bar after I left Richard. The Georgetown Grill. I got off the bus with my little suede briefcase and paced back and forth on the sidewalk trying to muster up the courage to go in. I was afraid. I was nervous. I felt like a cretin. I dreaded the agony of walking through the door and having everyone look up and see how ill at ease and awkward I was.

I finally made myself go in and sit at the bar and drink beer. It was sad, really. I watched young men my age looking good and seeming happy. As I sat at the bar, a shrinking flower.

I remember one guy in particular, whose face now is not clear. But I remember he had a beard, was genuinely good looking– wearing a leather jacket. He was self-confident, cocky, assertive. I saw so clearly at that moment how I had to change my life. How I had to become.