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by Cliff Bostock
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May 24, 2013 00:00 |
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The infamous Atlanta heat and humidity were finally on their way. Except for the eye-clogging, car-covering pollen that turned the city yellow, it was hard to remember exactly when winter and spring changed places. For now, on the cusp of summer, the evenings remained mild and the air clear.
In Atlanta, that meant the city’s diners flooded restaurant patios to see and be seen. Robert remembered a time, 30 years ago, when it was nearly impossible to find patio and sidewalk dining in Atlanta.
“Our beloved city council made even that difficult, as I recall,” he said to Lee and Janet, who were dining with him at Zocalo on Tenth Street.
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by Cliff Bostock
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May 10, 2013 00:00 |
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Lee lifted the pitcher of margaritas over his head with both hands and shouted, “Feliz Cinco de Mayo!” He was slightly drunk. The server at Mezcalito’s Cocina, a new Mexican restaurant in Grant Park, didn’t blink as she swept the pitcher out of his wobbling hands and returned it to the table.
Robert, only a little less inebriated, was singing “Besame Mucho,” which mariachi bands often perform tableside, repeating the lyrics until diners tip them enough to go away. Lee pushed two $5 bills in Robert’s shirt, drag-queen-style, to silence him.
The two were dining alone. As the weeks passed, their infatuation had turned into love. Both men, almost 50, had been single over a decade — two conditions that make new love at once intoxicating and nauseating.
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by Cliff Bostock
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April 26, 2013 00:00 |
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“There’s little as sensual and disgusting as eating pasta,” Robert said.
He and his boyfriend, Lee, were dining at the new BoccaLupo with friends. It was their way of announcing that they had become boyfriends after several months of dating.
“What do you mean?” Janet asked, as she reached for a chunk of tender grilled octopus, one of the restaurant’s best antipasti.
“Pasta,” Robert replied, “stimulates the lips. It’s a sloppy vehicle for spicy or buttery sauces. But it’s not so sexy to watch and listen to someone sucking noodles into their piehole.”
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by Cliff Bostock
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April 12, 2013 00:00 |
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The time had come. Robert was feeling afflicted with what he described to his therapist as “the mental disorder of falling in love.” He and Lee had been seeing one another for several months now, but Lee was still mysterious.
They’d never had sex, even though the romantic vibe had turned into a drumbeat, at least for Robert. It was time to have the discussion about where they were headed.
He dreaded it and picked Canton House on Buford Highway for the discussion. He made an excuse to meet in separate cars, in case things went badly. While waiting, Robert absorbed himself in a 15-year-old book he was re-reading, Michael Warner’s “The Trouble with Normal.”
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by Cliff Bostock
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March 29, 2013 00:00 |
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Janet and Robert settled into their folding chairs under the tent of the House of Gay Human Oddities on Cheshire Bridge Road. It was late Saturday night, after midnight, and many gay men and a few women stopped to check it out on their way home from the clubs. Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence collected the $5 entry fee.
A couple of carnival-style food stands were in front of the yellow tent, which glowed like a full moon on a foggy night. These weren’t the usual food trucks. Instead they sold take-out food from Robert’s favorite cheapies, like Arepa Mia, Bell Street Burritos, and Miss D’s New Orleans Pralines — all inside the Sweet Auburn Curb Market.
Across the street, 11 mostly gay members of the Clean-up Cheshire Bridge Brigade (CCBB) demonstrated in support of gay City Council member Alex Wan. He would soon be introducing legislation to purge the road of “nonconforming” businesses — meaning sex venues — to make way for gentrification.
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