to know where he was and for how many
days. It wasn’t long before I learned he was a regular at the bath houses in San Francisco.
I could tell when such a visit would occur, because he would become sullen and
withdrawn. He apologized profusely and promised to change, but his urges got the better
of him. As a married man, he was now tattered by his guilt. Thankfully, AIDS was not
yet prevalent, and I never had to deal with that concern. As his guilt grew, however, so
did his tendency to judge and critique me. Praise for anything about me became scarce,
despite what I did to support his business endeavors, the compliments given by family,
friends and Sausalito neighbors on our home, my murals . . . whatever.
When our easy laughter had dried up and we began avoiding each other’s eyes, we
decided to see a marriage counselor; the counselor advised Alan to stop picking on me
and accept me for exactly who I was. There would be more promises and more setbacks
and more apologies. With the erosion of our marriage, I lost my appetite. Any excess
weight I had left melted off my body, but despite looking as glamorous as Alan had
dreamed of my becoming, he was now afraid I would put the weight back on and
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish