03-31-02 - 4:27 p.m.
patrick and i went to hollywood yesterday. we held hands. we kissed in public. we shocked people who instantly assumed we are father and daughter. we took a bus tour of beverly hills and saw ozzy osborne's house. the star struck tour guide kept calling us 'guys'. guys, the fire hydrants are silver. guys, aaron spelling's house has 126 rooms. look guys, there's the store where they snubbed julia roberts in pretty woman. river phoenix died there, guys, right in front of the viper room. afterward, we ate at the hamburger hamlet across from the chinese theater. patrick bought me a cheezy souvenir; a plastic academy award that says 'lover of the year.' then we drove, up into the mountains, through snow, then down into the central valley. it was perfect but bittersweet; like always, the man who violated his moral code for me anquished over his daily phone call to g. his guilt was contagious; we had a moment where i wanted to bolt from the car and run. that is my m.o., you see; bolting when things get tough, and sometimes nothing is tougher than loving this man who is capable of loving two women with all his heart. parked on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, i had nowhere to go. we started for home but all i wanted to do was be with him, off the clock, without shame, for an entire night. so when a motel sign loomed up in the dark, i ordered him to stop. it was a bonnie and clyde tourist court; we registered with the bartender in the restaurant/bar. the room had cinderblock walls and creepy carpet. i didn't care. i pulled a candle from my suitcase and lit it. cut to crashing waves.
when patrick and i first planned this rondevous, he wondered what we'd learn about each other. we're the best of friends, the best of lovers, but the demands of our tangled life have never allowed us the luxury of sleeping together. did we sleep? of course. what did he learn about me? i need fifteen minutes alone in the morning. what did i learn about him? he doesn't snore. like that would matter.