Maybe the cold makes people want to hug, but I've found the wintertime to be good for starting a new romance: I started dating Fred the Ministerial Student in December, Verne the Preacher's Son in January, and my Celebrity Boyfriend in January. Christmas is particularly erotic: kissing Brian under the mistletoe, meeting the bully in the gay bar, catching Cousin Joe in the act.
But you have to be careful if you're already in a relationship. The last two weeks of December are a mine field, especially if you go back to the Midwest.
In the fall of 1985, shortly after I moved to Los Angeles, I liked Alan, one of the two ministerial students at All Saints Metropolitan Community Church (the gay church). I'm a clergy groupie, and his former job as a porn actor sweetened the deal.
But it took a long time to incite his interest -- I was tall and rather muscular, and he liked small, slim guys -- so we didn't start dating until early November.
I assumed that we would be monogamous. And we were.
For about six weeks.
On December 15th, a guy named Kristian appeared at church. Small, slim, passive, smiling, handsome, early 20s. I could see Alan's face light up.
After the service, Alan practically knocked me over in a mad dash to get to him at the coffee hour. I followed and heard his story. It didn't quite add up, like that of my first West Hollywood boyfriend, Ivo the Bulgarian Bodybuilder who was insanely jealous of Michael J. Fox. But I didn't question him:
2. He graduated from UCLA's Film School and was now working as a production assistant at Paramount.
3. He had totalled his car in an accident that wasn't his fault, so now he was taking the bus everywhere.
4. He had just broken up with his lover, and needed a place to stay until January 1st, when his new apartment would be ready.
"You can stay with me!" Alan exclaimed. "I have two roommates, but you can...um... camp out on our couch."
I know what you're thinking -- hand over my apartment key to some guy I just met? But I thought: Kristian has no car, and Alan lives 5 miles away. It will be impossible for them to get together!
It never occurred to me that Alan could easily drive over and pick him up.
When I returned to Los Angeles on January 2nd, Kristian had moved out of my apartment and into Alan's bed. "Um...um...we didn't plan on it...it just happened," Alan told me. "Can we still be friends?"
During the few days he spent at my apartment, Kristian stole a pair of jeans, pawned my grandmother's silverware, and ran up $200 in phone calls to Norway. Fortunately, Alan got my silverware back and wrote me a check for the $200, explaining that it was "a misunderstanding." Kristian thought my grandmother's silverware was part of the deal?
By the end of January, Kristian had taken Alan for all he could and gone on to the other ministerial student at the church, and a month or so later he moved on to West Hollywood Presbyterian. I don't know if he was a clergy groupie, or thought a minister would be a soft touch.
I did some checking: nobody with Kristian's name had graduated from UCLA Film School, or was working at Paramount. I'll bet he wasn't even Norwegian. He just let his soft, small, passive frame and killer smile work for him.
See also: Dating a Pentecostal Porn Star